I M GETH

The title, while true, has absolutely nothing to do with this post. In fact, I have no idea what I am gonna write about now anyway.  Probably about what the world and myself have been upto in the past few months.

Firstly, I wanna talk about my disappointment over the response to my previous post. It was actually one of my most intimate post. I mean real intimate. Not the kind where you randomly crib about your failing relationships seeking sympathy from people who absolutely don’t give a fuck. This was more like a desire to see if we shared something in common. When I was younger, it was an absolute revelation for me to learn that all guys did the wiggle at the end of a long and comforting session of urinating. Through the last post, I was wanting to see if others too experienced similar feelings.

You see, every now and then (say once in a few months), I keep experiencing these wierd out-of-body feelings. Now don’t go “has the motherfucker finally gone crazy??” on me now. I don’t mean out-of-body in the same sense as these random lunatics do. Its just that, I continue with my day-to-day stuff, and then suddenly I look at my body and become all Descartesque going “that body may be something, but it definitely ain’t me”. I mean, you think about it and you realize how you are actually made up of a whole bunch of independently living cells that use you (“you” here can best be described as your mind) to feed and nourish themselves. You start to think how strange the notion of swallowing and digesting food really is with random organs like the stomach and liver producing random substances that work on the food to convert and store it in the form of another random chemical substance. You start wondering if you could have evolved to have a completely different digestive mechanism and still evolved to have a mind like you do. You start wondering how the fuck 2 things that essentially digest food and then die, could ever share something called relationships. Then you start looking at the people around you and go “God damn! These food digesting machines can actually move and talk and contort their faces! Weird!”. Anyway, at present, I am not exactly having one of these “out-of-body” moments and so, won’t ramble on any further. The point is, the last post was meant to guage if anyone else felt the same about their bodies. And with the response it has received, I can only say I am disappointed. Also, it was most certainly not a post against women or anything. I did not want to write about myself and hence chose another person. And since I cannot write about a fellow’s body (er it would be awkward to say the least), I wrote about a girl. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. Let bygones be bygones. Don’t dwell on the past. Live for today. And fill in any other thathuvams you like.

I have been temporarily working in India, specifically Bangalore, for the past few months and this seems to be a good time to be in India. What with me getting to celebrate my first Diwali in 3 years in Chennai, and getting to see the rains in Chennai and then working in an extremely geth company during the weekdays in Bangalore. My thoughts on Bangalore. I actually like the place a lot. It is greener, cleaner (not much better though) and cooler than Chennai. On the flipside, it is too darn expensive and even really substandard stuff becomes unaffordable. For instance living spaces and restaurants. You can’t have anything satisfying in Bangalore even in the most shady places for anything less than 80 bucks. Also, the roads here suck. There are  absolutely no trunk roads and the network is pathetic. Travel within the city is a major sore point. Also, there are too many people here who don’t give  a fuck about the place. There is hardly a sense of belonging, especially among techie people like my coworkers with whom I interact mostly. Another thing I was worried about was the language barrier. I am tamil+english speaker. And most of the co-workers in my immediate group communicate in hindi. I was hoping I wouldn’t meet one of those “Hindi is national language. So you must pammify to it” kind of folks. Thankfully, I didn’t. My coworkers asked me if I spoke hindi. I said no. They got pissed, but soon forgot about it. I too don’t expect them to talk in english in my presence (which is something I have noticed a lot of people expect, not only for hindi, but for any other language). So we get along fine.

 

However, one thing I noticed is the amount of language debates that take place in office. I personally think of it as an issue that has been settled in all but law. Southies learn english and southie language and are happy. Northies learn hindi and english if required and are happy as well. And within their places, they stick to their language (I suppose I ignored the northeast here). This system works like a song. I think we don’t need such a thing as national language or a link language. I suppose we will need interpreters wherever we go, but that is vastly less inconvenient than making millions of people learn a completely alien language. Anyway, with the advent of technologies in our day-to-day lives, I’m sure technology can be used to sort out this language issue easily. For instance by a translation service available on call or something.

 

Unfortunately, language continues to be a hot-potato during lunch hours at my work place. Even the most innocuous comments, like for eg. someone saying they saw a death procession in some random place, can be steered into a protracted debate on the language issue. Its quite funny actually. And sometime during the middle of my internship, MNS struck. Ever since Raj Thackeray commenced his activities, I have constantly felt vulnerable during lunch as the only tamilian of the group (the other tamils stick with each other). If there is any talk on the language issue, you can be sure Tamil Nadu is going to be dragged in.

Another thing that I wanted to talk about is Pakistan and Afghanistan. The situation seems quite hopeless from the outside at least. I suppose it has got to do with the values of the population. I think the population is stupid (stupid enough to be unable to judge what in the modern world benefits them and what is detrimental to their lives), over-focussed on religion and too proud of their so called bravery, courage and independence.  It is but a short step from bravery to barbarianism.

I am someone who has always disregarded religion. I suppose the biggest function of religion is in disciplining people, who if not for the fear of religious retribution, would have probably gone wild. However it must be remembered that religion is not you or your life. In fact, you can have a value system that is completely unrelated to any religion and still, profess faith in a religion. I think it is essential for people to realize at least this, that religion is but a small part of their lives. I personally feel that stuff like “winning hearts and minds” isn’t going to work for the US as long as the value systems of the people remain the same. And to change this value system, you need to do something more than just win hearts and minds, and start imposing some of your own values onto them.

Finally, onto the reason for my absence so far.. Actually, this blog was started when my life was at its nadir point (Who knows? It could turn out to be a local minima after all..) and at its depth of despondency. The primary reason was that I was in college, not giving a fuck about my studies, wasting time and having absolutely no aim in life. At least in school, you could work towards getting into a good college. But once you are in college, there are so many options that you find it really difficult to make a choice.  This complete frustration with life made me take up blogging as an avenue to vent out my thoughts (which I couldn’t possibly do with friends, as they mostly don’t care.) However, after careful deliberation, I managed to choose something to my liking and something  am completely happy about. And this total happiness with my current state of affairs have lead me to consider blogging as a futile waste of time that could be spent in other better ways. And hence no blogging.

Anyway, I am slightly sokkifying. Maybe I’ll catch you guys on some other post. Maybe I won’t write any more. We shall see how. Ciao for now.

 

 

 

 

Some Kind of Monster

He (Mr V) was walking along a lonely street, in a forlorn neighbourhood. The roads were ill-maintained and the houses were slowly crumbling into junk. He was suddenly accosted by a shady trio of young men who had very obviously loaded themselves with alcohol. They walked along for a few yards and suddenly started shoving him and pushing him about. He had no option but to continue walking trying to avoid meeting their eyes. Soon, one of the guys went ahead of him, walked along a while and suddenly applied the brakes. Mr V rammed straight into him. He heard a sickening thud. He realized it was his own stomach making contact with another of the street youths’ fist. He looked up to see the fellow’s face. It wasn’t there. In fact, there was no street or houses even. Just darkness.

With an effort he made his eyes open. He blinked a few times. The dream seemed to have exhausted him. Then he realized it was not the dream as he could still feel the pain. He looked around. There was some dim light. He realized he was on the floor. He looked to his right. He could make out something. A vague outline. And as his eyes got accustomed to the dim lights, he saw more. A lot more.

The “thing” seemed misshapen with a twisted and contorted torso. There was something like a deformed spherical block at one of the ends spherical block. Some soft material, dark as the night and rather woolly, enveloped this block. The large mass was further distorted by strange and approximately mushroom shaped lumps all over. There were some strange appendages (4, to be precise) of no known geometrical shape. The end of these appendages further separated into vile looking protrusions. And the ugliest part was the crevices and holes in the small part of the end that had the woolly fibres, which was left exposed and un-covered by the black material. It looked positively ugly. Two of the holes seemed to have tiny ball-like things stuffed inside underneath the hole covering. And he would have almost retched when he saw that the one of the 4 appendages were actually pressing on his stomach.

All this information, Mr V’s brain processed in about 0.382 seconds, whose functioning was vastly sped up by the large dose of adrenalin it received from his body. In about 0.523 seconds, Mr V realized that this absolutely alien looking object was actually familiar to him. In about 0.701 seconds, he realized that the object had a thaali kayar around her neck, and in about .713 seconds, remembered that he was the one who had tied it. Tied it in that godforsaken ceremony they called a wedding. In about 0.924 seconds, another one of the 4 appendages, Mrs V’s arm ie., was brought over from the other side of the bed in a graceful arc and with a truly great moment of inertia, whacked him across his original face (the whack changed the contours of his face here and there) and knocked him back into the world of his dreams.

Lanka

This is a pretty strong post, not for people with weak stomachs. If you aren’t up for it, please don’t read it. I shall resume normal posts shortly.

The Necessary (Albeit Bugging) Preliminaries

I have never liked to hold on to identities. Why?  Because, an identity is always touted as something that defines you. But the funny thing is your identity is not defined by the people who are like you, but by people who are unlike you. For instance, if everyone around you ate pure vegetarian food, then it would be simply meaningless to go on about calling yourself a vegetarian. So, while admittedly convoluted logic, I am sure you can see that what defines you or sets you apart  is not so much your identities, but (“everything you are” – “your identities”).

But on the other hand, I can of course absolutely see the need for identities. In today’s world, where all the peoples are considered to have the same set of personal rights and theoretically suffer no need to make way for people with alternate beliefs (be they richer or stronger), it has become absolutely essential to maintain and stick on to your identities, religious, linguistic or whatever else matters to you the most.

This being the case, the identity that I most closely hold on to is “Tamil”.  Because that one word suitably describes the food I eat, the clothes I wear, the language I speak, my cultural upbringing, my social values, my very approximate appearance, my religious habits, my tolerance to heat and so on.

Also, I am not exactly proud to call myself Tamil. It is but an identity that helps others get a picture of the kind of things that I hold as an unchangeable part of me. If nobody challenges any aspect of this identity, “Tamil” then merely serves as a showcase identity. I also do not go overboard with my sense of ownership over a Tamil identity. I always keep reminding myself of this story I read about a particular Nazi Aryan Supremacist who discovered that he had been adopted of Jewish parents and unable to cope with the shock, responded by cross-dressing (you read right, cross-dressing.).

Another identity of course is Indian. This is not something I am comfortable calling myself. Because, apart from nationality, Gods, cricket and curry, there is little else the term Indian offers as clue to outsiders regarding my practices. The primary use is because, considering the few outsiders who can actually identify India on a map, it serves as a general simplification to aid the uninformed. And needless to say, I am not proud to call myself an Indian.

Before I proceed, I want to make clear that I am not a very patriotic fellow. While I too have been taught to celebrate India and its unity in diversity and everything, and while I actually admire all of it, I can’t help but ask questions. For all its positives, India presents a bundle of contradictions in my eyes.

And for all the India worshipping buggers, I am not anti-Indian. I only consider myself loosely affiliated, considering India is really complex and difficult to understand. And even if I were someday, God forbid, to sever all ties with India internally, I will by no means turn a Tamil Nationalist. So please do not bombard me with comments of disappreciation, if you were indeed planning to do so.

For me personally, these two identities of “Tamil” and “Indian” have never presented a problem and have always existed in a happy union. Until recently, when the Civil War in Sri Lanka burst once again, onto the international scene.

My Qualifications

I grew up in a very protective family, where they went all out to try and make me a global (and slightly westernized) citizen and strictly shielded me from all the crap (politics and movies and  personalities and so on) that plagued Indian society. Also, an ultra-sanitized and highly pro-Indian education meant that my education with regards to problems in society and nation was insufficient. I thought caste only meant the 4 varnas and was oblivious (until recently) to the real and persistent problems presented by the caste system. I was led to believe that Kashmir was an integral part of India and that Pakistan was a tribal, terrorist nation trying to steal it from under our noses. And with specific reference to this post, I wasn’t even given to understand that Tamils lived in Sri Lanka. In fact, there was this Sri Lankan origin (refugee) friend of mine who too believed that Sri Lanka was Sinhalese and Budhist and couldn’t even explain how he was a Hindu and they spoke Tamil at his home!

However, with the internet and laptop and the idle hours to while away blogging, it was not long before I rectified this chink in my armor and educated myself not only about SL tamils, but about literally everything else of note in this world (thanks to Mr Jimmy Wales). The past 3 years of my college life have left my brain cells feeling they could teach Bangalore a thing or two about handling explosive growth. And this has allowed me to form balanced (imho) opinions on a wide variety of subjects.

(The above 2 paras were only written to suggest that despite being born an always-politically-correct and avoid-trouble-at-all-costs, true-bleu Chennaite, I believe I am qualified enough to actually give an opinion on the subject, for I have spent many days reading about the conflict right from its genesis.)

Anticipating Trouble

Regarding the recent conflict, I had a slight inkling (note: very slight inkling) that the LTTE may be nearing its end around 3 years ago. It was around that time when the Sri Lankan Government absolutely crippled the LTTE by having it branded as a terrorist organization by all the western powers. It followed this up with a visit to China in a huge entourage, with even an elephant thrown in amongst the  courtesy presents. It was an absolute win-win trip. Sri Lanka got the huge amount of weaponry needed to wipe out the Tigers whilst China was allowed to secure its ties with Sri Lanka, which figures as an important player in the former’s String of Pearls strategy to secure a safe oil transport route right from the Straits of Hormuz to the Eastern Chinese waters. And most importantly, it made full use of the split in ranks of the LTTE offering Col. Karuna security and comfort and left the LTTE pretty much crippled.

Then came news reports of successive SL Govt victories in battle with the rebels. The news reports on Google became really frequent and all my Sinhalese friends sounded upbeat everytime I asked them how the war was progressing.

Indian Media and Sri Lanka

(a gross misuse of terminology, but its difficult to describe ‘media’ and ‘fool’ in one succinct term)

Somewhere in the middle of Sri Lanka’s victorious march, news reports of the Sri Lankan war erupted in the Tamil media and took us all by surprise. It was no doubt signalled off by requests coming in from LTTE and reaching their sympathizers on the mainland, who are not insiginificant in number. And once this happened, it took little time for the national media to catch up on the news. And once this happened, I have been feeling nothing but disgust. Disgust for the national media and the tamil and national politicos of our land in that order.

Firstly, let us look at what is wrong with the national media. It is as meaningless as trying to point out  what is wrong about wrongness, or what is soft about softness, but I’ll give it a shot. Now, there is a new coterie of news channels that have established themselves on the national circus (I do not deny they are an improvement on DD). These organizations consist of people who are of the kind I went to school with: stupid, crass, needlessly cynical, bubbling over with patriotism whenever they come across terms like “India” or “Pakistan”, but nevertheless, wannabe Americans. Some of my complaints against them which I shall care to list (and only regarding the topic at hand) are:-

1. They keep saying Prabhakaran is a terrorist and the LTTE is a terrorist organization as if to emphasize to all who care to read their views that there is absolutely no difference between Prabhakaran and Osama Bin Laden.

2. They keep saying Prabhakaran is a terrorist because: “The LTTE have committed many dastardly acts of terror, including the killing of Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi and the Sri Lankan President Premadasa”. Ask the fucker who wrote this line to name one more incident and I’m sure he’ll probably fumble about for a computer with an internet connection so that he can google something relevant. If he cannot manage it, resourceful as he is, he’ll probably say – “I don’t think I need to. Killing our beloved Prime Minister is enough to declare Prabhakaran a terrorist. End of questions.”

3. They seem to have taken up the cause of Nation building and self-censor their reports (ie. modify the reports of other worthy international organizations suitably) so that the Tamilians reading their reports understand the terrorist nature of LTTE and see that it is in the interest of all, especially tamils, to get rid of this scourge. And they make the general Indian public understand that if there is a separate Eelam formed, Tamil nationalist sentiments will also rise and pose problems to the unity of India. So the Indian public must oppose LTTE and Eelam at all costs. Wow! Although I am prone to think that the stupidity of the media and the weak Indian response has created a lot more dissent in TN than the formation of an Eelam would ever have.

4. In the pathetic excuses for debates that they organize, they bring in two standard debaters always: Cho and Subramanian Swamy. These two, they self-declare as the moderate tamil voice. On the other side, they get in people, who in my opinion are the actual moderate tamil voices, and then try to teach these people why their views are wrong and shameful. I can only writhe in horror as I watch this orgasm of stupidity.

5. What do you get when you make stupid people listen to the views of cynics? You get the folks who work at IBN Live and Times Now (prime accused) and NDTV (to a much lesser extent).

Whatever I may have against Vaiko, I won’t at any point deny that he has genuine concern for SL Tamils. He may be fanatical and going overboard, but he does not do it simply for the sake of gaining votes (unlike Karunanidhi and Jayalalitha). However, if one were to believe these national news reports (!), one might get the impression that Vaiko is simply a random dipshit fanatic who keeps raising the Sri Lankan issue in order to inspire “regionalist sentiments” and milk it for votes. Talk about cynicism.

And NDTV sent a reporter to Sri Lanka (I think Nitin Gokhale). He was interviewing the SL Def Scy, Gotabhaya Rajapakse. He asked GR whether China was leveraging on India’s inability to supply Sri Lanka weapons because of concerns from its own Tamil population, and equipping the SL army with sophisticated machinery and training in return for strategic benefits (such as the Hambantota project). A marvelous conspiracy theory indeed.

If I could have spoken to him, as God had spoken to Moses, I would have probably told him: Fool. We are talking about living people here. Not plastic pieces that you used as a boy while playing games like Risk. In the very least, respect their sentiments and try to put in your head that stuff like morality is a bit more important than diplomacy here. Or at least restrict such stuff to print. What the fuck did you imagine GR would say? – “Yeah yeah! China worked out a brilliant strategy to outflank India in its own neighbourhood and we are proud to be a part of it!”??!?

I am not a staunch pro-LTTE fellow or something, and its not like I cannot stand any criticism of the organization. But I do expect stuff like objectivity, intelligence, educated opinion etc… in the news reports. All 3 of which the Indian media lack. But the real funny thing is, much like voting for a party, I’ll still have to keep visiting these news channels’ website to get my daily dose. However, if the news is even mildly important, I prefer reports from BBC, Al-Jazeera or the Associated Press. These international organizations are miles above the Indian media in terms of professionalism and I really commend their effort to provide objective views in face of the immense pressure that has been exerted against them while reporting the Sri Lankan Civil War.

To give you an idea of the stupidity of the news organizations, take a look at this video. It shows how the Tiger supremo, who ought to have lead a life in ditches and struggling for basic amenities actually can afford luxuries for his kids like cakes, chocolates and toys. And here I was thinking they were rich enough to buy Aircraft and Armored Personnel Carriers. Must have been a figment of my imagination I suppose. And yes, Charles Anthony even got an education from abroad and pursuing a comfortable MBA life abroad. I suppose the Charles Anthony who got killed in the conflict must have been a dupe. Just like the body of Prabhakaran. Just to convince people that their leaders were still with them. How diabolical! And so we have Mr Arnab Goswami (aka amoeba-brain man amongst me and my friends), sitting in a random Mumbai/Delhi studio living of American money questioning the commitment of Prabhakaran to his so called “Eelam”. Funny!

Tamil Nadu and India’s Response

I have also observed this slight apathy from well-off Tamils towards the Sri Lankan conflict as if it is happening somewhere in Africa (which would be more understandable). Even the reservation issue seemed to attract a greater volume of opinion. Although it is difficult to say if this is right or wrong, I’d like to say I am a bit disappointed. You can ask why you ought to care, but if you were in the place of SL Tamils,  you would at least expect some concern from others who claim to share your identity. Unfortunately, when money comes into the picture, little else really seems to matter.

The only people who have actually managed to express an opinion and have it heard on the national scene are the pro-LTTE fanatics and the vehemently anti-LTTE idiots. The problem is the first lot is that since they are so unquestioningly and blindly pro-LTTE, no one will respect their opinion. The 2nd class, no one cares about, because they are idiots. The sad thing is there is no forum for the moderate/average Tamilian to express his views. Or indeed, no forum to guage what the moderate Tamil view is. With a highly manipulative state government that seems to have become increasingly concerned about not expressing an opinion that will disrupt its alliance with the Congress, it is really difficult to convey a concerted opinion to the nation and the world.

Personal Views

When it comes to my views on the LTTE, I suppose I always supported it, if only in the way the PMK supported the DMK government while it was in the alliance. I had a great deal of reservations, but I supported it. And I did not really care about people who opposed the LTTE, so long as their opinion was carefully considered. Which in a majority of the times, is not the case.

I get pissed when people say the LTTE is terrorist because it killed Rajiv Gandhi and hence, it does not deserve support. I get pissed when I hear people say that if Eelam is formed, TN will also wanna become independent and hence, LTTE does not deserve support. And I get pissed most of all, when people tell me they are Gandhians and believe in non-violence and cannot support any violent movement.

While I think the RG killing was a mistake, I view it as a vendetta killing. Which may not be a good thing. But I don’t think it is near enough to call an insurgency which is much bigger than any single man (Rajiv Gandhi included) a terrorist movement.

I generally laugh away the 2nd argument. Because if everyone acted for their self-interest alone without getting morality in the picture, there can really be nothing in the nature of a society. We’d all have remained cave-men. This argument is stupid and I hope you, the readers, think so too.

The 3rd argument generally gets my goat. I don’t like to quote famous personalities because I don’t like to appeal to authority and thus consider myself incapable of independent thought, but Mandela pretty much sums up what I want to say:- “I followed the Gandhian strategy for as long as I could, but then there came a point in our struggle when the brute force of the oppressor could no longer be countered through passive resistance alone.” So there you have it. Mandela, someone whose position as a messenger of peace, no Indian really questions (there isn’t an African community in India that could be inspired by him and turn nationalistic is there? Moreover, he did use the magic word “Gandhi” no.) justifying the use of violence. Saying essentially that the nature of the struggle depends more on the oppressor than the oppressed.

If people say LTTE kills anyone who expresses alternate opinion, then its a more valid point. But I’d like to brush it off as politics. If you are surprised by the previous statement, don’t be. You’ve been doing it all along. Haven’t you forgiven the Chinese Government for Tiananmen or Tibet or the Revolution itself? Haven’t you not bothered about India dealing with the Soviet Union, where talk of human rights itself would have been dangerous? It’s the same thing for LTTE, in my eyes.

Finally, coming to why I supported (for lack of a better word) the LTTE, I’d like to say that if I were in a situation wherein my home country denied me equal rights and treated me like a second class citizen (which thankfully is not the case) AND if people who share my identity were actually a majority population in the areas where they lived, I too would have considered such policies an affront to my dignity. And if peaceful efforts failed, I would have considered taking up arms as well. But this is generally acknowledged by everyone and the LTTE did enjoy a great deal of support even internationally in its initial years.

After the IPKF came and went, LTTE controlled vast swathes of territory towards the mid 90s. Even upto this point, I think I would have supported the LTTE (had I been capable of making a decision on such matters then). But after that, the LTTE became just a bit too demanding. Probably buoyed by its success, it kept arming itself as if to suggest that it did not even believe it could establish its goals without the use of further violence. It failed to realize that no matter how much arms it procured, it would always be in a back-foot as it was an underground organization while the Government was acknowledged by everyone. And this is probably when a lot of internal dissent started appearing within the organization and what was once a movement with understandable aims started becoming one of those greyish movements that it continued to remain till its death this year. And the SL government, at least with respect to the Tamil issue had pretty much been in the grey always. So towards the end, it became increasingly difficult to choose between the two.

I mentally sided with the LTTE only because of the following reasons:

1. I spoke to a Jaffna friend and he said the general SL Tamil populace (excluding hill country tamils and tamils in the south and the muslims), supported the LTTE. It was, after all, an organization fighting for them, and if they believed it represented them, I felt that counted a lot.

2. I have seen interviews of Tiger fighters and sympathizers. I really believe that these fighters believe in their cause and fight of their own independent calling. Without being forcibly conscripted or anything. Also, they really did not seem to hate the Sinhalese people just for being Sinhalese. This was another important thing for me.

3. The LTTE, as far as I know, has never conducted an attack that targets civilians alone. Considering the resources it commanded, it could have easily turned into a terrorist outfit. But I believe that they have a strong political ideology and this stopped them from descending into a terrorist organization.

4. Even my Sinhalese friends acknowledge that the Government is probably not going to provide the Tamil areas autonomy. So I suppose if the LTTE disappears, they will continue to be ruled by Colombo, which may (negligible chance) or may not (in all probability) treat the Tamils well. Anyways, I myself would much rather rule myself poorly than have someone else rule me, even if they do it better.

Conclusion

Now the LTTE has been defeated beyond redemption. So let me just ask what cards do the Tamils have on hand to counter the Government? – NONE. What is to stop the Government in continuing its pro-Sinhala policies? – Nothing. The UN is pretty much a lame duck when it comes to Sri Lanka as it has the veto of both China and Russia. So there is absolutely no possibility of UN instigated war crimes tribunal on Sri Lanka. There can be no UN monitored implementation of devolution to Northern and Eastern areas. There can be no sanctions on Sri Lanka from USA or the West. Ok, there can be. But it will be easily forgotten by the sands of time. Hasn’t the US given India a nuclear deal? Or hasn’t India purchased large-scale weaponry from Israel? In fact, a recent interview by Fonseka pretty much serves as validation – “I strongly believe that this country belongs to the Sinhalese but there are minority communities and we treat them like our people…We being the majority of the country, 75%, we will never give in and we have the right to protect this country…We are also a strong nation … They can live in this country with us. But they must not try to, under the pretext of being a minority, demand undue things.” (1)

However, I do see some hope. Rajapakse, despite being surrounded by zealots, did come across to me as a bit sincere in implementing his promises. Lasantha Wickrematunge, in his post-humously published editorial of his own death, said that Rajapakse was a man of sound principles himself. I myself can see that Rajapakse does not hate the Tamils as an ethnic group itself. I am quite sure he isn’t a “mass-murderer” indulging in a “genocide” of the Tamils. (The way words are being bandied about in this war!) For the sake of all those poor people, whose torturous period of independence was only exceeded by the suffering they had to endure in the latter stages of the war, I hope the current Government will prove sincere in its promises. If the Tamils live in peace and equality in a unified Lanka, then so be it. If they cannot, well what the fuck can I say?

For all those who have reached this far without knowing anything significant about the history of the conflict, I’d recommend that you read Neville Jayaweera’s work (I don’t want to link this):-

http://gandhiunity-progressparty.blogspot.com/2008/10/into-turbulance-of-jaffna.html

1. http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/peter_foster/blog/2008/12/03/behind_the_muzzled_voices_from_a_troubed_sri_lanka

Britain’s got a bunch of losers..

Ok. My exams are due in a few days, and I’ve been desperately hoping nothing newsworthy comes about that is worth blogging about. So that I can finally put in some preparation for my exams. I have tried my best and managed to keep myself from blogging about the madness in Sri Lanka. I have steadfastly avoided raising any issue about the election. But Susan Boyle, she got my goat… She made me wanna choke myself to death. Not because of anything she did. But because of others’ reaction to her.

In my previous post, I had talked about not treating someone as special simply because he or she is damn beautiful/handsome or not so fortunate. I made a plea to nobody in particular to treat people in a way that justifies their mental faculty, ignoring the actual physical being. (Except for pornstars of course.) However, I am aghast to see this kind of adulation being heaped on Susan Boyle. Only because she is not diva-like but can sing. Yes. We are totally taken by surprise to see such a contradiction is even possible.

I only watched the run up to her performance and a few seconds of her actual performance itself. After that, I simply couldn’t stand the torture of seeing ppl start to mass worship her. That Simon Cowell is a male cow. I can forgive the girl judges for the reactions they give. Girls are meant to be that way. But a barrel-chested middle aged bugger like Cowell?? Too much I tell you. Everything about his reaction was fake. From the initial non-chalance and going-through-the-motions kind of look to the eyebrows-raised-and-jaw-dropped-in-utter-surprise-look to the final celebratory speeches. It is all so fake and pre-programmed, and worse, has been repeated at least a hundred times on the show already. Does he still expect ppl to buy it? The answer is probably a yes, and I imagine he isn’t wrong in supposing so.

In fact, the Susan Boyle affair has also exonerated me regarding another thing. I get PISSED OFF when people start talking about a Hrithik Roshan or an Arjun Rampal’s or a Preity Zinta’s stellar acting performance in a film. Or a Britney Spear’s or a Avril Lavigne’s beautiful voice. These people are there on screen for one reason only. Because their looks can make you (the masses, the makkal, the junta) swoon over in adulation. So please don’t feckin talk to me about how well they act. And please please don’t go about giving them Padmashris and Padmablablas.. People who act/sing as well these bozos can be found in literally each and every home in this country. There is absolutely nothing special abouth their talents. And makkez, please remember the good actors don’t necessarily look good. In fact, the best actors look goddamn ugly. (I mean, of course, the politicos who run our country.)

At this juncture, I would like to thank my stars for having made me live my youth in Chennai. One place where looks hardly matter. Where the best singers often end up looking weird. Where the most popular actors possess charisma more than looks. And where it is openly acknowledged that the most popular actresses are popular because of their skin colour and ounces of flesh and ABSOLUTELY NOT because of their “acting skills”.

Will end with a plea – Vote for talent and not looks. But if you can find someone with both, marry him/her and don’t tell anyone about it.

PS: OK. I just vomitted out this post out after reading a news article about Susan Boyle on IBN (well, they’ve got tne best website at least). I can’t afford to bother about moderating my views and all because of the exam frenzy I am currently in.

Poverty, I am thy face!

This week was hectic. To say the least. Although I did manage around 3 hours of sleep everyday on an average. At one point, I was awake for 2 and a half days together.

And last week, I saw Bala’s Naan Kadavul. Two seemingly unrelated and incongruous topics.

But this is Sangu and Sangu can make oil and water mix if need be. (Using surfactants ofc, but I won’t go into technicalities.)

Where were we, aah yes. Naan Kadavul. The movie itself was worth the time I spent watching it. The time I ought to have spent mulling over some nanoscience related work. (With the aid of the previous line, I wanted to emphasize on the quality of the movie by suggesting how valuable those 2-3 hours were for me and how I still do not consider watching the movie a waste of time. Yes. I m 2 gud.)

But after watching the movie, I started discussing it in order to put mokka with friends. I was quite surprised to see that a lot of my friends who too had seen the movie, actually felt pity for the ugly ppls who were begging.

Firstly, I will justify the word “ugly” which I am sure all of you would have noticed and would have consequently made a random instantaneous judgement about my character. You see, you know, I know, and most of all, Bala knows those people don’t look very good (I don’t mean in the supermodel sense, but a bit more generally.) The characters are the result of a 3 year search all across TN apparently. So when everyone knows they are ugly, why do people have problems admitting it?  There is a limit to being politically correct you know. OK. Toward the end of the previous line, you would probably have branded me a despotic narcissistic fuck who is insensitive to the sufferings of the downtrodden. I admit, some of these folks are in all probability, downtrodden. I hate to see downtrodden people also and I too have those fleeting desires to help them and relieve their suffering and be a hero and all, which I forget the moment something else crosses my mind. Just like most others. But still, why can’t I call them ugly? I mean, they may be the nicest people on earth and I can totally take that. They may be excellent company and I would love to be in their presence. But it would be idle to say they are not ugly. Note the point, a person can be ugly but can have a character otherwise.

What I am trying to say is:- Don’t judge a book by its cover and all. But at least be honest enough to admit the cover is bad. The moment you say stuff like “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, or “they are beautiful on the inside”, or simply act like they are the nicest people in the world simply because they are disabled/disfigured, you must understand you are actually insulting them. With your pity. And with your refusal to grant them anything like an individual character which you feel such people are incapable of having.

OK. I just put in the previous 2 paras to provide an alternate line of thinking. Even my ravaged conscience hurts from the exertion of the previous paras (for they did seem like genuinely fun people otherwise and I do not wish to insult them or anything) and henceforth I will stop calling them ugly, and will simply refer to them as beggars.

Anyway, as I was saying, I felt like laughing everytime I heard my friends feel pity toward these people. I couldn’t believe they did not see what was so obvious to me.

Let’s look at these people closer. They eat, metabolize, work off any excess (if at all) through their wanderings and then they sleep. Yes people, they sleep. Soundly. For hours. Without too many concerns. So that takes care of the physical being.

Now let’s focus on their mental being. These people are obviously low on aspirations. They know they have little to look forward to in this world and they are resigned to an existence wherein they live through the day hoping people will support their next meal, and if it does happen, derive happiness from it. They socialize to their own limited extent and seem to have little other desires in life. Something like what the Buddha said. Cut out on your desires and you will find peace. They have found it.

Now let’s take me for instance. Do I get enough food? No. Most of the time, I eat one+half meals a day only. One in the afternoon and the other half also in the afternoon. And thats all. My stomach keeps growling for the remaining day like it is now, but I am forced to ignore it being held up with other important things like facebook games (I only use it to play games. Right now hooked on Mindjolt.) Do I have a permanent shelter? No. Most of the time I am out days together trying to study and ending up playing facebook games instead. Do I get to socialize? No. For socializing, you need to meet like-minded people. And I have never met more than a handful in my lifetime. And also, bcos we are like-minded and all, one of the traits we share is being anti-social to the extent practical. So this completely rules out socializing as a means of recreation. Do I get enough sleep? HAHAHAHAHA

And now we come to my mental and emotional needs as a NRI student youth. First, I must worry about my inability to achieve that much desired status of being a chick magnet. I must consequently keep worrying about what an Archana, or a Samathmika or a Rachel or an Adel Mbangwa or a Josy Koo etc.. thinks about me. I must then get through my next few assignments for my modules in University. Then I must think of getting a good internship. Then I must think about planning my immediate career ahead and trying to evade the downturn. Then I must think in terms of what I want to be in the long term. For I don’t want to be doing something I am not interested in. Then I have to think about marriage. And then. Finally. A few months of what one hopes will be bliss (I am referring to the time when I will be married and hopefully enjoying sugam with wife and with an income in dollars and without kids). After which I shall have to get back to the grind of worrying about the pregnancies and kids. And once the kids are born, worrying about how I can live my life with as little interference from the family as possible. All this while, one must worry about trying to maintain your geth in the workplace. And then, eventually, the kezhabolt self will have to start worrying about which old age home the kids will pack you off to. And then start worrying about wasting money on a retirement package in order to avoid the prison like confines of an old age home. And then retire. And then find all that you own become worthless in a few years and yourself reduced to not even having money, which is actually the only thing you ever had. And then worry about all the time on your hands. And then go mad thinking about it. And after this, becoming a social wreck with not even your family visiting. And then in the last few days, when you are suffering from blood cancer or something, worry about what and all you could have done in your life but failed to do. And then, on death, possibly getting rebirthed/recycled and living life in the exact same sequence (adjusting for generational differences) once again.

And these bitches (my friends), who in all probability are also going to lead a life as described above, feel pity toward these beggars. Idhellam enga poi naa solluven?

Feminazis

Note: Depending on how the comments pan out, I think I will turn the post into a public debate kind of thing. Why? Because the comments are too bloody long and deal with too many issues to be just designated to the comments section.

And also, I am not trying to be nice to anyone here. I am just having an argument. It doesn’t mean that I have anything negative to say to you. I want to keep this purely as an argument. And yeah, I love arguing.

Updated 7 March:

Hi Aparna (for others, see comment by madcatfiles),

(And Mr Ramachandran, I shall hopefully get back to you by tonight, when I find more time. Although, I expect you can find rebuttals to your points here as well, if you look closely enough.)

I think pubs serve as a social place to get together in western and westernized countries, as you say. However, even here, I think they are symbols of lifestyles fraught with the moral issues i suggested. only, in their societies, such things aren’t really considered moral issues at all.

Now, let us come to the indian context. what you don’t seem to realize is pub-going is something that has only gained popularity in the recent few years. and why has it become so popular? i would say, largely due to influenced people buying heavily into the western way of life, as portrayed in television. for the people of this generation who go to pubs, they are adopting something alien and it is resulting in a change in their lifestyles. maybe it won’t be so for their children who will probably be more attuned to this. but for the current generation, it does represent a change. and i personally think (from what i have seen) the people who bought into this western lifestyle thing also bought into the other aspects of western lifestyle (as portrayed in tv) including their very liberal views on the matters of morality. that is what i meant when i said the “pub is a symbol”.

why do i say pub-going shouldn’t be considered a right per se? because alcohol is a mind-influencant and not just like any soft drink. if you claim people are mature enough to know what they are doing, then i suggest we legalize everything without having any scruples. simply because people are mature enough to take their own decisions. for instance, drugs and prostitution could be legalized as well.

and if you claim that if men can drink, so can women. yes, i see logic in that. but i repeat my own beliefs – “men and women are not equal”. i think indian children depend on their mothers for a sense of morality. i dont really expect my father to be an epitome of morality (tho i like him and all). my mother on the other hand, i do. not only me, even my sisters think the same way. and i think most of the indian kids also. so if say my mother was “loose, forward and pub-going”, i would have a very different sense of morality from what i have now, and i am not sure i will like it. BUT, these are wholly personal views and quite subject to debate, i admit.

and really, i am disappointed at you suggesting that by stopping the women visiting pubs, we are essentially not allowing them to socialize and mix. amean, i didn’t say anything about coffee bars or even malls and multiplexes. i am sure there are a multitude of ways to socialize even without these places.

note, i am not claiming everyone are like the people described above. maybe a significant portion of pub-goers are indeed average indian girls otherwise, as you say. maybe i shouldn’t have used the terms “majority of the women”. i am not claiming a lot of the people are not mature enough. i am claiming however, that a significant portion are not. and i speak from total experience (which i admit, may be unique.) you see, i studied in one of the richer schools (in terms of wealth of student population) in Chennai. And a majority of my classmates visit pubs and discos. They weren’t like this when they were young. however, they have fallen for this western lifestyle bait, hook, line and sinker. and i can
personally guarantee you at least 30-40% of these pub/club going classmates don’t have any scruples regarding alcohol or their virginity. drugs is somewhat rarer, but its only a matter of time.

and this brings us to the most important of all the views i present. you see, in a society, we very definitely need a code of social behavior to exist. with issues like globalization and all, what used to be a rigid order has now become totally loose and faulty. however, there is still a code. and this code is determined by what the general public holds true. i think you believe that you represent the average indian public. the truth is you don’t. there is a whole other india out there, hidden (possibly by ourselves) from the view of the middle/upper middle class city folks. and they, whether you like it or not, make up the numbers. and rightfully, they should be allowed to deem what is moral and amoral. i am sure they, men and women mind you, are opposed to this whole concept of pub and club going. not because you do it. but because they don’t want their children to do it as well. which is why, i believe, irrespective of what a jobless loafer Muthalik is, he does actually carry a message, even if he doesn’t realize it himself.

finally, although i admit that at heart, i would not like my close female friends and relatives to be very “loose, fwd, pub-going”, technically i have no real arguments against it. it matters even less to me when it comes to young women doing such stuff. in fact, i recognize that nothing, including prostitution, drugs, homosexuality, paedophilia or anything else can be considered morally incorrect. in fact, i am sure i can establish with rationality, how murder is something perfectly moral (i can do it if you want). this being the case, i dont really hold virginity as something paramount. i just recognize it is an issue of public debate. and ofc, i dont recognize women drinking as something “wrong” either. Whereas, you recognize women drinking as morally ok, while suggesting that having affairs is morally not ok. which means you too are holding on to some sense of morality that is irrationally developed. and this, i have to point out, is exactly what the muthalik-types are also doing.

Following is the original stuff

RukmaniRam // February 20, 2009 at 12:44 am (edit)

anti-feminist. huh. theres something id like to pick on.

me: anti-feminist indeed. in fact, anti is a very strong word for i don’t wish to give feminists so much respect. but still, it most aptly describes my position. and theres nothing i should like more than some ppl challenging this long established position. so if you wish to, go right ahead.
*

K.Ramachandran // February 20, 2009 at 2:29 pm (edit)

OK, this is jkust for starters, i cud write 25 volumes of 1000 pages each on this issue . Just for example:
1. Men driunking in pubs is Hindu Culture, but not women, no !!Criminal activities of the Mangalore Gorillas and other Gorilla Brigades.
2 . Sati : when a wife dies , the man remarries. when the husband dies, the wife is subjected to perhaps the most known severe pain of burning.
3. Women’s lib has back-slid in the West. Men are still supposed to propose first, and pay for the first date.
4. 30 yrs ago , b4 u were born , and when i was ur age, Indian ,men wore pants and shirts, yet made unprintable comments abt Indian women in Western dresss
5. FGM in Africa.
6. 50 yr old man marries 8 yr old in Saudi, Court is ( happily ) helpless , tommorrow the judge in that case may marry a 5 yr old.
7. “Honor killing” in Afghanistan and Afghan areas of Pakistan – most dishonorable.
8. Some men desire to rape a beautiful woman every few months. So make a law — for certain acts of a woman , the punishment shall be public rape — this happens in the above-mentioned region .
9 . Ad nauseum and infinitum
*

K.Ramachandran // February 20, 2009 at 2:32 pm (edit)

persecution of widows: if a woman is expected to be a “Sumangali” ( but not a man, no-no), should not the bride be at least 5 yrs older than the groom ? how stupid cud a society be ???

Hi Ramachandran,

You asked a lot of questions. I had to think a lot of time before I could come up with an answer. Regarding whether to put the reply in the comments section itself or as a new post. I decided to make a new post as the answer is quite long and has gotten nothing to do with me itself, thereby warranting no place in the “about me” post.

Some background first. When I said I dabbled with the identities I listed, I really meant to use the word “dabbled”. For I don’t believe I am defined by the identities that I choose to keep. I think identities are more fluid and help in giving you an idea of what kind of a person you are dealing with. You can drop them as and when you please. For example, I claim a tamil identity. But my actual ethnical origins could be anywhere from peninsular India. Nobody knows. Then, I will be anti-materialist as long as I have no money and need an intellectual excuse to pass off my generally shabby appearance (kidding). And so on. By the above passage, what I am trying to say is, when I say something, it need not be true. In fact, what I say is generally meaningless. Neither here nor there. When I say something, please do not take me seriously. Please ignore me. In fact, I live and swear by the word mokka. Thats what I put and thats what I like people to put to me. I will be content.

Okay. Lengthy and pointless self-analyzing soliloquy is over and done with. So now, I can proceed to answering your question. I think the answer can be summarized in about 3 points:-

1. I said I am anti-feminist, but also claimed to be an environmentalist and an animal liker. Animal liker in the sense, I hate to exploit animals for any reason other than essential needs such as food. I don’t like to use products which are made of animal body parts even. (Though I do use leather, I use it if there is a lack of alternatives.) That being the case, you can understand I am quite opposed to stuff like sati and FGM and public rape and so on. Anti-feminists needn’t support such stuff.

2. When you say feminists, you surely don’t think they are people who voice out their opposition to such activities? Such people aren’t mostly just feminists. Pro-life and Humanists would better describe them. Coming to the feminists that I am talking about, a lot of the intellectual feminists (come the oxymoron) in today’s world fight to ensure there are no differences between men and women except in terms of who carries the babies. It is this that I find laughable. I shall elaborate on this point later. And needless to say, I find feminists such as “Loose and forward pub going women” extremely amusing. So I am not exactly anti-LFPGW as they do provide some entertainment value. But for the lack of a better word..

3. Somewhat related to point 2, I think the reason why hardcore feminists and I cannot see eye to eye (whatay poetry) is primarily because, while I don’t expect women to be enslaved, I certainly believe that men and women have different roles to fulfill in society. While they don’t.

Ok. Now I shall launch into another lengthy bunch of paragraphs, which this time however, carry some meaning. When I said I was anti-feminist, I was referring to the kind of people described below.

You see the feminists of today seem to spend their time making changes to the english language. They wanna get people to use Miss or Ms instead of Mrs. They want people to say actor instead of actress. Then they ask guys not to use words like chick and babe. And demanding there is absolutely no gender based discrimination in the workplace and at home. And other such highly amusing things.

Calling you a Mrs Gopi say, doesn’t really make you lose your independence or anything. It is a tradition that has been followed for ages and does not harm anyone in anyway. The hardcore feminists (HCFs) suggest that it is because it apparently gives them a feeling they aren’t equal partners in a marriage. I think this is stupid. I don’t think it will make Gopi overtly proud or anything to have his wife called Mrs Gopi. Similarly, calling Mrs Gopi Miss Hema won’t affect her status in her family in anyway. Sure I am okay with someone calling her Miss Hema and so are HCFs. But I am also ok with her being called Mrs Gopi, which is the convention, while HCFs are not.

Opposing anyone using words like chick or babe is about as stupid stupidity gets. There are things called hormones which prevent us from becoming logical machines with outputs as 1 or 0 when it comes to matters of sex. The most they can achieve is preventing people from using such phrases. Not thinking them. Men, even if they don’t say anything, will almost certainly objectify women in their minds. And women will do so to men as well. Opposing stuff like this is simply ludicrous.

Coming to more serious matters such as workplace and home, I am somewhat ok with the current state of affairs while HFCs are not. What I think should be the case is women who are focussed on their careers and show good results should not be witheld from advancing their careers. However, I think such an approach is applicable for only the services industries. Even here, I think employers should have some powers to consider the physical issues (primarily pregnancy issues)  and social issues (stuff like Indian women leaving work after marriage) women face as a criterion for employment if they can show this will significantly affect work output. In industries involving manual labour, there are obvious physical limitations coming in the way of women. So I think the employers of such labour must be at a complete freedom to hire as they deem suitable. And personally, I think the existing system whereby a lot of the women take up simpler tasks so that they are employed, sufficiently independent and can devote time to their homes is quite ideal.

Coming to the homefront, I think this is by far the most irritating thing about HCFs. In the western countries, HCFs want to see marriage as an institution whereby men and women both contribute equally monetarily to the house, both share all kinds of housework, both are involved in familial decisions etc.. etc.. As I always say, the only difference they see in familial roles is in terms of who gives birth. I really think this is bullshit. Amean, I can see sense in the women not wanting to depend on the man financially for even little things. Some amount of independence is good. But blurring of gender roles is not, I think.

I think a woman can best serve her family by spending time on the children, on cooking and maintaining order in the house. While the man can best serve it by being the main breadwinner, the majority decision maker and the go getter kind. I am not saying there shouldn’t be any sharing of responsibilities but not to the point of completely blurring the generally defined gender equations. While rationally it may appear difficult to justify the existence of these gender roles, I think nature has made us this way. For example, in bears, the mother bears care for their young while the males just roam about aimlessly fighting each other (and that is how gender roles in bears are defined. I am not implying parallels with human society). Men and women think differently and are made differently. This being the case, if both partners wanted to be equal stakes decision makers, it would lead to mutual irritation and vexation. Amean, you can’t have an army without sergeants and colonels.

And finally coming to the Mangalore Gorillaz you mentioned. First point. I think you  believe that men and women are equal in every way. I don’t but I do believe something along the lines. But men like Muthalik do not. Now you may suggest this is wrong. I do not. I do not think you can see right or wrong in these things. Certain things will have to be established first through rational argument, laws, and ultimately through force if people need to start believing them. Otherwise, there is no reason for people like Muthalik to believe men and women are equal. In fact, I am sure I could present a list of very rational arguments on Muthalik’s behalf if I were to spin (spin doctor kind) a case in his favor. But I won’t as I fear my readership would probably be halved instantaneously.

Second, Muthalik may even believe in a kind of equality similar to mine. As in while they should have reasonable freedom, women are not free to do whatever they feel like. And he may feel consuming alcohol is a vice among men which when it comes to women, becomes something more than a vice. Something like degradation of society. Now I do not exactly share his views but I can see how he thinks. He thinks irrespective of how men are, the purity of the house is maintained by the woman. And if her morals come into question, you can have a whole generation of spoilt families. Now while I can exactly see his pov, I reiterate, I don’t share it.

Third, I do not even think this is a man vs woman thing. I just want you to imagine what Muthalik’s wife (if he has one ofc) thinks about this whole issue. You think she believes her husband is doing wrong? I think the issue is more of anti-westernization than anti-women.

Fourth, projecting the right to go to pub as something of a fundamental right itself is a bit awkward. I think the pub is somewhat symbolic. Amean it is idle to deny that people who frequent these places are not exactly average Indian women with only an unusual craving for alcohol. They are hyper-westernized (more than a lot of westerners) people who invariably end up losing their virginity before marriage, consuming drugs, having affairs and the whole list of other morality related issues they are generally associated with. Now I am not saying what they do is right or wrong. However, as people in society, I think there are certainly limits as to what we can do and cannot. So such things, while seemingly perfectly ok, might just affect a lot of people in a lot of ways resulting in them being opposed to it. In fact, considering the Muthalik types are the majority in India, I wonder who actually gets to have a say in such matters of determining public morality. You or them?

Regarding Muthalik himself, ofc I also think he is an ass. I wouldn’t have been half as concerned if he and his goons broke up the pub itself. But using mass rowdyism to hurt people is not the way to go as far as I am concerned.

And finally, I am sure this post will offend a lot of people. If that is the case, please do take as much offense as you deem fit. The post expresses my opinion (note: I didn’t call it my humble opinion. I am not humble.) and while it may be fundamentally against what a lot of people think, I don’t really care so much. So long as I am not hating anyone or anything its fine already.

However there is atleast one other person who agrees with me. And by a curious coincidence, he is even less humble than I am. (For the noobs, we are talking about Maddox who is, to put it plainly, a famous blogger. I took the title from him)

Final note: I am pretty sick of this post. Its pathetic and low quality and intended to just get the point across. Just thinking about them feminists makes me froth in the mouth. So I am not even going to read or edit a word that I have written unless a blatant error is pointed out to me.

Fly away Gloree!

In a decrepit, dilapidated part of the city, in what could only be described as a stagnant cesspool of urine, polythene, faeces and rotting waste, a new life was emerging from the void of the unknown. It emerged slowly, at first barely managing to break through, and then, after repeated brutal convulsions, finally out in its entirety. Quite like the little nugget of gold found after days of panning the stream, the little cherub that had emerged through its violently fascinating journey into light was exquisite. Milk white and soft as cheese. In stark contrast to the dark, gloomy environment into which it was born. It was in fact something any entomologist would have been happy to see. A perfectly healthy maggot of the common housefly variety.

Unlike a great many of its brothers/sisters (flies suffer from sexual ambiguity/indeterminacy) who were condemned to death even before they were born, Our little larva (let’s call it Gloree from now) was born right inside a piece of shit. Or ta pien, as shit is known as in Chinese. What, you question, is the purpose of this clarification? T’is because the creator of the piece of shit, or ta pien, was a Chinese tourist who had spent the previous day gorging in Srikrishna Sweets. Why, you ask, is this significant? Well, that is because the Chinese have quite a rudimentary digestive system which digests little more than vitamins, minerals and proteins. (How else can you explain the omni-present 8 pack with 3% body fat in Chinese people despite them hogging like water buffaloes? And in case you are among those who did not know this fact, I am happy to have made you a bit wiser.) So the fat content in the food travels straight through unhindered in its journey through the Chinese man’s digestive tract. Which consequently meant that the piece of shit, amean ta pien, into which little Gloree was engorged was absolutely loaded with pure Srikrishna Sweets ghee’s fat content, which was now wholly for Gloree to consume and beef up on. In fact, one could quite confidently say that Gloree was a fly born with a silver spoon. A fly of blue blood. An upper sub-caste fly among the upper caste flies.

For the next six to seven days, it did little but eat. It was content. Quite like a human child’s days through its childhood and school, while enjoying itself, it too was preparing to take on the real world. It did such a good job at eating (it was efficient at its job, much like the A+ students in school) that it digested enough food to create a complex network of tunnels in the piece of shit in which it was engorged. In fact the tunnel system was so complex that the piece of shit, already hardened by days of decaying, was almost ready to collapse in on itself. Some natal instinct warned Gloree of the impending collapse of its temporary shelter and it encapsulated itself into a pupa and shut out itself from the outside world to go into a long hibernation. Much like the way Indian students go to IIT classes and tuitions in their last years of school as a final thrust to help them get ahead in life.

After about a week or so in total isolation, wherein it used up all the stored up energy in its belly to build up its body for the future, Gloree bored its way out of the metallic pupa into the open. Rather similar to a student finishing his IIT exams or other entrance exams or (for very weak students) their board exams. Gloree shrugged off his (he had become male in the pupal stage) week long period of inactivity (quite like the post-exam destressing rituals of the Indian humankind) in a few minutes and felt in his prime to take on the world.

Gloree was not wholly like the other flies. The other flies would have been content to remain in the cesspool for the rest of their lives. Gloree had a premonition that such a happy state of affairs would not last. He was eventually proved right, though that will not form a part of this fable. (The cesspool he lived in was eventually piped through metrowater pipes into the homes of people living in the happy commune of T.Nagar.)

Gloree, even in this young budding stage had an innate desire to travel and see the world. After some preening and breaking of fast, he flew out in a burst of energy to see the great outdoors. You might think him a bit materialistic for abandoning his home for greener, or rather, browner pastures. But the simple truth is there is little by the way of friendship between a piece of shit and a fly. Or in the words of the great gnani, Son of Gun (from the tamil movie Oram Po), “Ennale naathampudicha friendshippu ee pee friendshippu?? Pee kaanja ee parandhudapodhu!!” (“What stinking friendship, fly-shit friendship? The fly will fly away when the shit dries!” said in a Thirunelveli accent.)

Before I proceed any further, I would like to make a clarification. I can hear you all say – “A story about a fly?? Hmm.. OK.. But a story about a fly that thinks like a human being?? By the holy lotus feet of Venkatesaperumal! This is madness!” (No! THIS IS SPARTAA aa dagadagadandanagara….) I sympathize with you to an extent. I too don’t expect that flies can think like human beings, though there is little scientific evidence to show that it doesn’t mind you.

However I would like to diverge from your views right here, in the sense that I see no reason why the inability of the common housefly to contemplate should serve as an impediment to me attributing thoughts to it that it didn’t know about. So then, let us move on.

In its conquest to see the world, it was joined by a few partially like-minded comrades. So they took off together and went where the wind carried them. They flew for hours and hours together. They followed their sense of smell (or the elementary contraption that could be approximated thus). Along the way they had pitstops at various places. In what could be described as the flies’ equivalent of going to Tirupati, they visited a sweet stall, Purity Laddu Kadai, and followed their feelers to a place where a batch of laddus, just hours away from rotting, were kept and attacked it en masse, thereby reducing the hour count left for the rotting process to culminate. Here, they also encountered something that would form an important of their Survival 101 course. They saw a dazzling violet light source. They all flew toward it in mad rush as if they had found the pathway to nirvana. However, as they got nearer they could feel the heat of the thing and boy did it feel evil! Most of them managed to turn away in time, but some of them were caught up in it never to be seen again. The wiser among the flies learnt their lesson. They were never ensnared by purple lights again. They also learnt what it meant to lose loved ones (They realized it meant nothing).

Then they set off again following their feelers. This automatically led them to the Pazhani of all fly pilgrimages. A tea kadai (tea shop). They felt like Master Charlie in his chocolate factory and went absolutely wild. The huge lumps of sugar, the butter buiscuits, the verkadalai (peanut) barfis, the coconut oil in the hair of the custoers.. They didn’t leave out anything. Gloree, for his turn left “Gloree was here!” marks (in flyspeak ofc) all around the place.

Then suddenly they were almost blinded by a powerful light. “Lights, camera, action!!“. They did not hear it of course, but their feelers vibrated in resonance to the sound. Then in another direction they started sensing more sounds. They tuned their feelers to try and receive the feed. It went something like “Enna Aadi, tea saapidraya?” Their eyes turned in the direction of the source almost in unison. They were absolutely shocked to see what looked like a man radiating PURPLE light. (It was the camera lights bouncing off his purpill coloured jinguchaan clothes.) Gloree and company fled for their lives as the fear of the purple took over them.

(For the uninitiated, we are talking about Rajinikant’s famous tea kadai scene (forward to 7:00) in the movie Sivaji.)

Their journey then landed them in a famous slum in Chennai, aka Adyar. It was twilight and they had spotted a group of slum boys hanging out with their flashy cars and some slum babes and other associated paraphernalia. If you looked (really) closely enough, you might even have discerned this slum dog (who in later years would go on to become a millionaire, but ask Danny Boyle if you want the full story) among the racket of people. Gloree & Co were having a gala time feeding off the general filthiness of these slum boys, when one of the slum boys, who actually was a slum Machiavelli more like, pulled out what looked like a yellow squash racket from the inner recesses of his car. It was a battery powered fly swatter. As Mr Machiavelli (or Mr Chanakya for the more swadeshi kind) started swinging about the contraption, many flies fell to his evil designs. After a few of their comrades were literally stopped in their tracks, the other flies started to notice the effectiveness of this evil contraption and went into quick evasion mode. Even in their flight to sanctuary, some of the flies were mercilessly swatted down.

After a hellish flight to safety and security, Gloree was doing the fly equivalent of sweating profusely. In their flight to freedom, only the strongest flies had survived. Gloree was among them because he was the strongest, originally because of the fact that he was born with a silver spoon, ie. into the Chinese man’s ta pien. And here, in this little incident, we see ettanother proof of Darwin’s theory of natural selection, though I admit that is widely off topic.

After this real life nightmare, Gloree had all but completed his Survival 101 course, with an A+ one might add. It was like the human equivalent of a Harvard degree. Also, by this time, he had grown quite tired of this loose, directionless and carefree life. He really wanted to settle down to something more regular and respectable now. After convalescing from this torrid experience in a safe haven (a piece of shit that belonged to our slum dog, who eventually would go on to be a millionaire), he set out on a quest to find that perfect place to settle down for the remainder of his life. He again followed his feelers. He reached the place. He was surprised to see hundreds of thousands of his brethren also there. Apparently, a lot of others out of similar frustrations had also made their way into the promised land, or the land of opportunities, or Vaikuntam, or however you choose to call it. It was the majestic Cooum flowing through the very heart of Chennai city. Chennai’s answer to Varanasi’s Ganga.

Despite the large population of the place, the flies managed to live happily and harmoniously, largely owing to the huge natural and artificial resources available in the place. Gloree decided to stake out a territory for hisself in this vast Jannat. After some searching, he found the perfect place. The back of a pig. A male pig. A lot of people, especially females, called him Chauvinist (sometimes shortened to MCP) for some reason. It was a one stop shop for Gloree. Food, warmth, locomotion etc.. In fact MCP even provided Gloree entertainment as he had a predilection for mouthing off punch dialogs such as “Panningathan kootama varum. Singam singleaathan varum.” (Again from Sivaji for the uninitiated – “Pigs come in herds! Lions come alone!”). Gloree was now the sole owner of this prime piece of real estate. He was now a desirable fly, just like a dude with brains, looks, NASA job and a sportscar. He too had soththu, sogam (riches and comfort) and everything. The female flies considered him a hot catch and vied for his attention.

At this point in the tale, I think I must bring in some perspective of reality. Flies are not like humans. At least not like intelligent humans. The intelligent humans would want some intelligence, understanding, spirituality blah blah in their soul mate. Flies do not. Flies just want to have sex. You may label them materialist, but as I said, flies are simply not like us in this regard. In fact, they have this simple mechanism whereby the females emit some pheromones and this simply turns the male flies on with a capital O & N. You can’t really blame them. T’wud be meaningless.

So the girls came and Gloree humped. Dowree, Worree, Maree, Kusumpee, Sorree, Puree, Kuppathottilorree.. he did them all. He could be proud of the fact he would father a whole new generation of common houseflies. In fact, had he been a mutant, he would have started a whole new species. But he was not, and hence the problem does not arise.

He was the cynosure (in the case of females) and the envy (i.t.c.o. males) of all eyes. He was a fly on the move. A fly with a vision. A fly with nerves of steel (despite not having nerves). A fly of courage, valour and what not. In fact, if the flies of river Cooum had a system of democratic politics, he would have been their Obama (though who would have been McCain is an open question). If flies had parais, then some pariah fly would have beat his parai announcing to the world – “Rajadhiraja Rajagambeera Rajadeivamarthanda Rajakulathilaka Gloree Varaar Varaar Varaaaaaar”! (Sorry, no translation can be provided). If flies had… Ok never mind. I’m sure you get the picture.

He lived for a few days reveling in the attention and praise showered on him. He then died. No, not due to cardiac arrest, or AIDS or something. He died from old age. Died of natural causes. Died a perfectly normal death while asleep. The kind of death which will make young people relieved their old man left them without leaving behind hefty hospital bills.

He passed into the same oblivion he came from. And so will we, just like little Gloree.

We end with an ode composed by Albert E. Brumley for little Gloree’s soul passing over. The song is “Fly away O Gloree” and the video is from a wholly unrelated movie.

Chennai Kaadhal Kadhai

Skunk was late. He had finished his cricket training session in the morning. He was allowed to come late to school on days when there was training. Today however, he was really late and had arrived during the school short break only.

(Let me make clear at the very outset that Skunk did not stink. It was just a name given to him by his friends for no particular reason. He smelt very nice in fact. No let me take that back. He smelt neutral. Quite like any other fellow really. In fact, he was quite a popular fellow in a sloppy sense. He was perfectly within his limits to sight adichify a girl and similarly, she could continue to maintain perfect respectability in society even if she admitted feeling gratified at receiving Skunk’s attentions. Hope you get the picture.)

He had come back home from training all sore and tired. He dreaded having to go to school in this state and took his time preparing, convincing himself that he could make it sufficiently in time to use his training session as an excuse. He of course did not. Give a lazy fellow any leeway and he will always overshoot.

Also, while he was feeling extremely sloth, there was something drawing him to school. Avunukku oru ponnu mela oru Kannu (he had his eyes set on a particular girl). The picture of her doe eyes, beautiful mouth and delicious voice kept drawing him like a magnet to school.

He left his cycle in the parking lot and sauntered his way to the school. The idea was to get to class without rousing suspicion. For this he would have to meet two challenges. First, give the watchman the miss. This could be easily accomplished as the watchman himself was never prone to attentiveness and would almost certainly be asleep. The other part was to give the slip to the teachers while on the way to class. He used his usual strategy of walking brazenly in the open. His belief was that people only questioned you if you acted alert. If he continued to saunter looking as if trouble was the last thing he was expecting, then no one would notice him even if he had worn the girls’ uniform. There were of course some nighthawks among the teacher community who were always on the lookout for such serial offenders. However trouble from this quarters could be easily avoided by careful path planning back to the classroom.

He made it successfully past his obstacles. He entered class just as the previous teacher left, and before the next one could enter. He laid his bag down, rewrote the record books and set himself down in his bench. No one in the class noticed, for they were too used to his antics.

The teacher entered. She was called the Daaberman, as it most aptly described her looks and temperament. She taught physics and was also the class teacher. A small, bossy, gruff voiced woman. Basically a real life example of the evil-teacher variety oft depicted in fiction. The class rose listlessly to greet her. She immediately gave her standard dialog about how we were as enthusiastic as “goatherds taking the goats out to graze.” Had the class shown any liveliness, she would have commented about “the need to maintain the decorum of the class, considering we were approaching adulthood.” Yes yes. She was a control freak only.

She started the class. Her idea of teaching was basically to take the textbook and read out passages while trying to sound as much like a Britisher as possible. She must have felt the Britishish accent was the edge she had over other competing teachers that allowed her to get into one of the city’s top schools. Occasionally, she would look up from the book to make a headcount of the people still paying attention. She would then make a wisecrack (that did not sound very wise) about how people’s attention were drawn to different things these days. No one quite knew what she meant, including herself. She must have probably thought it sounded mysterious and vaguely risque and hence would do for a wisecrack.

It was a mildly hot Chennai morning, with the Sun revealing the vibrant colours of everything around. There was a latticework of sunrays, made visible by the dust particles floating in the air, streaming in through the class windows. The school was nestled in a quiet neighbourhood and the only sounds from outside that filtered into the classroom were the chirping of birds and the neighbourhood kovil mani (temple bells). And the classroom smelt of vibhoothi, sandalwood, incense, hamam soap and other such deiveegamana things. The only possibly malefic influence on the olfactory aura of the classroom was the Daaberman’s deodorant. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with it. Just that you wouldn’t associate it with one of those deiveegamana smells. Overlooking this particular transgression, it was one of those generally perfect Chennai morning that every Chennaite loves to see.

Skunk loved the morning too. Only, he would have liked to observe it while still in bed. He was starting to feel a tad too happy and content with his life. Besides, the sonorous voice of the teacher wasn’t in any way helping.

He tried hard to keep his focus. He kept reminding himself to keep his focus, consequently losing track of what the teacher was saying. What was the teacher saying anyway? Something about the moment of intertia of spherical bodies? Wunders if the formula can be applied to Daaberman herself.. She seems spherical enough. Damn. She seems to be heading this way. If she looks up from the book and sees my eyes closed, I am screwed. Screwed is indeed the word. Open your fucking eyes you bastaaard.. “Suppose a person is twirling a spherical body tied to a string around his head, and the string is obstructed by a rod, calculate the new angular velocity of the…” What the fuck is angular velocity. Damn. I think I missed the line of reasoning here. Was she saying something about twirling her moustache? Its not that big now is it? Oh of course it is. She has been growing it for the past one month has she not? Wait. Does that mean every woman can grow a moustache? Yes, of course they do. They like their moustaches as much as men do. Namma aalu (Our girl) also has one what? What the fuck really?? Eh, this is a mini-nightmare and must end now. Open your eeyeees.. Nooow.. “..problem. Here you have two balls of non-uniform size attached at the ends of a rod. This is hurled toward..” What the fuck does she mean balls of uneven size? Has she seen any in her life? Oh yes, she has a son. That pakathu class boy, Ravi. Wait a minute.. Are his balls, misshapen? Wow that must be the story of the month. Surely there’s a catch? No fuck! I am dozing again. Open man, open…

He saw the teacher still pacing up and down the classroom. He realized by now if he even attempted to listen to another single word emanating (barked out of, rather) from her mouth (snout), he would start snoring. He thought keeping awake was infinitely better as he could at least try and act like he was listening if he was pulled up. He decided to shift focus to HER.

Skunk’s object of focus was Priya. A mallu girl who lived up to mallu reputations. She was the class babe no. 2. Babe no. 1 was a bit better. But she was stupid and also had a very high estimation of her own looks. She was the perfect material to keep all the Saettu ppls, Andhra ppls and other low intelligence Tams of the class occupied. Which was good because the competition for the babe no. 2 was lower. And babe no. 2, unlike no. 1, had some amount of brains even. She was one of those non-pretentious kinds that just went about her work and life with a measure of honesty and sincerity. The kind of girl that sets an average Chennai paiyyan’s heart ablaze with emotions. The perfect homely figure. Skunk fell for her like a brick wall on water.

He started rasichifying her. Those large, bambi eyes. And the perfect shape of the nose with its slight turn northward at the very end. The absolutely luscious and kissable lips. All of which when taken together, still looked perfectly harmonious. He got up and went over to her in the middle of the class. The whole class was gasping in awe. He grabbed hold of her face. And started kissing her right then, while going through her body feeling its fuzzy warmth. A particularly loud bark from the teacher brought him back to his seat. Damn. I was dreaming again. Let me go and tell her what I dreamt. So he got up again, went over to her seat, and asked her – “Do you know what I just dreamt?” “What?” He lifted her face up and started kissing her violently again while going through her body feeling its fuzzy warmth.. Deja vu.. No. Fuck. Dreaming once more.

He woke up again. He realized he was still staring at her. Though no one seemed to have noticed (except Abhinaya in the back, who was fuming with jealousy. If anyone had given her an acid bottle just then..). His eyes automatically dropped down to below Priya’s neckline to her boobie traps. A place brimming and bursting at its seams with Mallu goodness. It was then that he heard his teacher bark out his name angrily. It was timed almost as if to suggest that Daaberman had no problems with him seeing Priya’s face, but when it came to her private parts, D would have to put her foot (paws) firmly down. He went through the same feeling one gets when one starts descending down a rollercoaster from equilibrium at its highest point. His stomach did twists, back turns, flip flops and what not.

He, the akisht, managed to standup without losing conciousness. “Enna da avalaya sight adichitrindhe?” (“Hey you. Were you paying your obeisance to that damsel over there?”). Daaberman tried to sound British and everything, but on the inside, she was an overflowing Cooum only. “No maam. I was seeing you only.” For one second, Daaberman was fighting an urge to ask him if he meant he was sight adichifying her (Daaberman). It would be nice to know if he was indeed doing so, though she wouldn’t let him have that impression ofc. She however chose not to ask.

She decided to test him with that oldest of devices the vicious among the teaching community used. She asked him to repeat what she had just said. Gabba fumbled about a while. Maam.. Miss!.. Maam.. But our young man was quite resourceful. He started nudging his partner and friend, Senkilimuthujagaveerapandyan, with his feet. Senkilimuthujagaveerapandyan placed his finger on a particular point in the page. Gabba picked up his book and started reading from that point on, slowly at first, then faster after noting and gaining confidence from the stunned expression on the Daaberman’s face. This round of battle was clearly won by Skunk. Which was a sweet-n-sour thing. For while the joy of victory would persist forever, it was also a sign of greater trouble to come. The Daabermans of the world do not give up on their prey that easily.

She then asked him a simple question. The 2nd oldest trick in the “Guide to adakkifying and madakkifying students – by Evil Bitchaiyappan”. Skunk was lost this time. He had run out of lifelines. His only potential answer was to suggest that while he did not know the answer, he was willing to wager a majority of the other students in the class wouldn’t know the answer either. He would have been right ofc. But he shuddered to even think of the consequences. He simply said “Sorry, I don’t know.”

“Jussthe….. Busthu… Grun splush fpssss….” sputtered Daaberman. “If you want to remain in my class and/or entertain hopes of passing your exams, you’d jolly well start paying attention you moron.” “Jolly well” indeed! Some of these kezhabolts! They can really get on your nerve using all these outdated British expressions thinking it will make them sound grand and commanding. Someone needs to tell them that Britain is but an invisible little island today, and people speak english these days only because of the Yanks. In fact, they seem be giving up english in London, the only globalized place in Britain, in favor of Punjabi. Ok. The time for mulling over the Daaberman’s words had passed. He had to come up with a response himself now. He chose to go with an “I’m sorry Miss.” Simple an’ keepin it real. “Now will you apologize to Miss Priya for ogling at her and make your exit from this class?” Daaberman had regained her composure and managed to contain the Cooum inside her this time. Skunk did not fight anymore. No one, including Priya, doubted that he had ogled at her, but they were just unhappy that he had resigned himself to an admittance of fault. They were hoping for more fireworks to light up a deathly passive Monday morning. “I’m sorry Priya! I’m sorry maam.” he said and walked out. He was rather glad that he could step out of class. At least he could resume his sleep without a worry. He would of course have to call his parents over, but that would be later. For now, he passed out.

He awoke to the sound of the students greeting the teacher in unison, quite exultantly, knowing they wouldn’t have to face her thollai again until the day after. He tried apologizing to her once again but to no avail. He was made to produce his diary, and a note was written to his parents summoning them for a meeting. After this, he stepped back into the class. Priya was standing there. Her face was a mask of anger and her lips were tightly sealed. The luscious lips were hidden from view. Though she looked even better this way. He was readying to place his hands on his cheeks even before she slapped him. She then lifted herself on her toes and planted a nice, petite kiss on his cheek. Not very risque, but nevertheless loaded with promises. At this point, Senkilimuthujagaveerapandyan jerked off in orey feelings. His sad tale of trying to wash the semen from his pants without others noticing deserves a whole other post. However we will end the story here (with strains of Sundari Neeyum playing in the background), as Skunka and Priya became a couple in this remarkable Chennai Kaadhal Kadhai. Remarkable because he could never have won her over with his charm and all because of the simple fact that he did not posess any. But for the forsaken folks, God has special plans. In Skunk’s case, they came in the form of the Daaberman.

K Club with Sangu Crooning

Right. There was this time when I went to Hong Kong with a bunch of Chinese friends. We had a whale of a time there. Super fun. The most regrettable incident however, was a visit to a K Club (Karaoke Bar). Being a pure Chennaite and all, stuff like Karaoke and Disco and all does not ettify with me (make sense).

My friends and I were out for the entire day and them fellas wanted to end their day with some dessert (HK is famous for its food) and then spend the remaining part of the night in a K Club and go back to our rooms in the morning. I was totally cool with the dessert thing. I was however, quite apprehensive about the K Club. Will I be made to sing in front of everyone there? Will I have to make a total fool of myself? Questions kept racking my mind.

We went into this dinghy place in Mong Kok (a people infested commercial district in HK). At least it looked dinghy from the outside. Inside, it had this really surrealist feel to it. Like any average disco or club.

We trooped into a room and set ourselves down. We got ourselves stuff to eat and some alcohol. This was all fine. I ate and had some beer and was in a state of mental peace. Then they started singing.

Chinese have this preference for really shitty english songs and Chinese songs (which are all uniformly shitty. Chinese songs sound like songs of say, Jessica Simpson, set to Chinese lyrics. They would consider a rock song with Chinese lyrics as innovative I suppose.) So this really turned me off. They took turns singing while I tried to keep myself occupied/distracted with a really shitty video game. After some time, I got really bored and put my head down to sleep. My friends somehow got this impression that I felt I was being neglected and started pestering me to sing one of those shitty english songs. Goddamn! I didn’t know what to do. I did not want to be seen as a bad sport. At the same time, I did not want to embarrass myself, especially because there were these 2 really reasonably (I am very critical) hot Hong Konger chicks who had tagged along with us. I refused. They asked again. They told me I could sing a really shitty (actually, a bit wacky also) song called Calcutta cos it had really simple lyrics and an Indian background to it. I refused. They asked again. I took a deep breath. I thought about it. I apprehensively took the mike. Their faces lit up at the prospect of seeing me humiliated. Then I refused. They gave up. And worse, my worth visibly diminished in front of the girls’ eyes. But I was too tired to care. With the effect of the beers setting in, I just put my head on my lap and slept, despite the noise pollution in the background.

You may ask why I refused and start to imagine that I ought to have sung along. There are many plausible reasons for me not singing. I think although singing is something natural, I believe it should come spontaneously ie. a person musn’t be forced to sing. Secondly, I only like to do things in public that I am good at. Thirdly, I think K Club, like disco, is a stupid way to waste your time and really see no point in it. Fourthly, I have this impression that I am a really mature fellow and mature people do not indulge in such frivolties. It simply goes against the general moodiness and seriousness and depth of my character. I was just suggesting possible, plausible reasons here. I do not know the real reason myself, but you can take your pick. (I myself prefer the last one as the explanation bcos it sounds very nice. Good excuse to give.)

But in the last 2 days, I thought about it. Amean, its not like I cannot sing. I am an accomplished bathroom singer. I sing quite loudly in the shower and don’t care if others hear. I am quite comfortable singing english songs really. This is because I was introduced to english songs early on by my father (even before MTV came) and was listening to the likes of The Beatles, Beegees, Boney M etc.. even as a pinju payal. And I used to sing along to a lot of these songs as a youngster in the confines of my bedroom, though the whole house could hear me at it.

Then why did I feel so opposed to it in the K Club? Was it because my voice had lost the vocal range and the ideal pitch that I had when I was a youngster? Was it because I had lost touch? Was it because I had lost interest in music? I feel the last reason is probably the most correct.

When I was introduced to The Beatles and all, I thought every song of theirs was supercool and would try to learn all of their songs by heart. As time passed, I got to realize that many of the songs were actually nothing great. There was no point in idly worshipping any group. I found myself surrounded by a sea of musical mediocrity and lost any little interest I had retained. After that, I started to look for specific songs that I liked and listened to exclusively those. So nowadays, I hardly listen to music. Suppose I come across something interesting in the radio or in a restaurant, then I look it up on youtube and listen. Or else, if the sounds are completely new (for instance this – totally amazing!), then I listen a while. Otherwise no.

UPDATE: The video link I gave, just in case people miss it is of traditional Tuvan throat singing. Part of Mongolian and Siberian culture. The mode of singing is something completely unique and absolutely gorgeous. The whistling sound that you hear is actually him singing. I have a penchant for such weird and wacky singing. Another example – the Australian Didgeridoo.

OK. I see you are getting pissed that such a simple matter is being given so much pointless analysis. You say: What a fucking waste of time!?! If you do not wish to sing, don’t. But don’t bother us with reasons and other such b.s. I agree. Thats why I decided: Fuck all my theories and everything! Let me just do it. Which is why I present to you this song I have sung. The song is “When you say nothing at all” by Ronan Keating. I understand this could very well be a song targetting girls. But I really like this particular song and the song ‘Words’ (originally sung by the Beegees.) Otherwise naa Ronan Keating kitte thalavechikooda padukamaten.

NOTE: Wait a while for the song to start. And please excuse the poor recording. This is about what an ad hoc recording on sound recorder will produce.

And so, finally, I can have a human audience hear me sing. I’m tired of having just the wall lizards and cockroaches listening to me in the bathroom and giving me feedback.

Feeling Downcast

Downcast. Thats how I’m feeling.

When I was young, I used to live in this old, large and lovely house, in which my own family occupied a small portion. I have nothing but fond memories of this house. So much so that I hated being at school and would eagerly await returning home again.

In those blossom days, both my parents were working and the only person to look after me when I came home was my great grandmother on my mother’s side. She was in her late seventies back then and notwithstanding her age, she used to travel all the way from Tambaram every week to take care of me. The daily routine (I still remember) was to come home with my father, spend some little time with him before he left for work (he was an entrepreneur and could afford to take a break off his work) and then have lunch and make conversation grandma (let’s ignore the great from now) or play in the open grounds the remaining time. 

I still remember how my great grandma used to force feed me back then. We had an Onida TV then. And the TV advertisements for Onida had that hideous devilish looking monster promoting their product (some mascot eh!). My grandma used to threaten me saying that horned bugger would apparate out of the TV set and would put me in dire straits if I did not swallow the food that very instant(!). And regrettably, the act worked like magic. In fact it worked so well (thanks to my extra-ordinary imagination and what not), I was 16 before I finally got over my fear of ghosts. Even now, I doubt if I could venture into any completely dark jungle on my own (I found myself incapable to the task when I was in Kerala). Looking back however, I only see it all as a bunch of treasured memories.

After the feeding frenzy was done with, a lot of the times, my great grandaunt (yeah, all those greats are because my family is pretty large) used to come to our house from my uncle’s house upstairs and talk some quality paati kadhais with my grandma. The paati kadhais were of the standard high-quality variety which made a youngster doze off or completely switch off his mind rendering him unable to recount the contents of the conversations to strangers in future years. Those 2 were almost the same age and took to each other like 2 mallus in a foreign land. Their friendship became the butt of family jokes. Over the years however, they hardly met each other. Many years later, I managed to personally arrange a reunion between the two and it made my family and myself happier than them to see them together even as they continued their paati kadhais as if all those intervening years had never happened.

When young, I used to be a rather emotionless fellow. I had not experienced significantly, feelings such as love, sadness, joy etc.. I was always in a state of indifference to my surroundings and society. However, towards the end of my school life, I did start to regard some of the people I knew as important and started attaching some value to my relationships with them. Among them was my grandmother.

Even when I was young I always had something for her inside of me. I can’t say I loved her. But I immensely liked her in the same way I liked my parents and my dog. I always respected her for the human being she was. She was from very humble roots and naive enough to make a fellow cry out of pity. She was simple to a fault, never had any worldly posessions, lived for the people she loved, never spoke an unkind word, and best of all, had only one or two teeth still left in her mouth. She was in fact the classical bokka vaai paati (we call her aaya ofc) who everyone loved to love. In fact, one could even call her a caricature of that character. A kind of lady hard to find in today’s society.

Having suddenly gained a sense of importance regarding my relationships with people, for the past 4-5 years, I made sure I visited her in far away Tambaram at least once each year. She stayed there with my grandpa’s brother, who was an army jawan kind of guy (I don’t know all these hindi terms now) ever since my grandpa died. I would devote a considerable amount of my time during the visit to her, holding her hands and talking and trying to decipher what she said. I would always part with a kiss to her bony cheeks and she would return in kind. This would be followed by a standard comment from my mother about how grandma couldn’t really kiss me because of her bokka vaai and a strong chin and nose ie. the lips never made contact. (I made that comment of a real feeling of indignation when I was a kid. My mother plagiarized it from me.) We would part after that with the day’s fond memories.

This year, I visited Chennai during my University holidays. I was there for about 20 days. I wasted my initial few days and did not visit my grandma then. Then, all of a sudden, I was diagnosed with a medical problem and had to undergo surgery. I spent the rest of my holidays convalescing and did not find the time to visit my grandma (when I did find the time, I or my family did not find the inclination). Finally it was down to the last day. The only option was to visit her in Tambaram before I left for the airport. I was all for it, but my father talked me out of it. So I left without seeing her. 

Last week, my mother called me from my grandma’s house. She told me my grandma was ill and that my grandma was desirous of speaking to me. DESIROUS OF SPEAKING TO ME when she was lying unwell. I choked. I tried to speak to her, but her hearing had gone bad recently and she was unable to hear me. I can’t imagine how she must have felt. Being so near yet so far. I myself did not know how to feel. I am not prone to emotions. I have not been in such situations before. I felt a tinge of grief. And a feeling of irritation with myself for not having visited her.

I spoke to my mother the next week (ie. this Saturday) and she told me my grandma’s condition had worsened and that she was now very ill and they were counting her days. I really don’t know what to say or feel. I will miss her. But I suppose I must get used to this feeling now. I am out of my teens and must start to get used to such things as they will only become more frequent. God I wish I could see her once before she moves on. However, I am happy that she lived a full, healthy life (of over 90 years) surrounded by people who loved her dearly.