Sunday, August 2, 2026

Gen Z Has Won Round One. Can It Handle Round Two - Power?

Gen Z, who generally move at a glacial pace from one room to the other, are suddenly toppling governments and ministries across the subcontinent. What comes as a rude shock to non-Gen Zs is that Gen Z even had it in them. The widespread stereotype was that this generation had little in it beyond a fervent passion for K-pop, online games and Instagram. How did a generation dismissed as politically unserious suddenly become the face of political mobilisation?

Young people are, by instinct, anti-establishment—whether at the family or within larger institutions. Any setting that does not allow them to sleep late and rise late is, by definition, antithetical to their worldview. Against this backdrop, the protests at Jantar Mantar, especially between July 18 and 25, deserve to be studied. More remarkable than the protests themselves was the resolve to return after the lathi charges, tear gas and police brutality.

Some of this has been explained away as mob psychology - the courage that a collective provides, but which is individually absent. Yet that explanation feels inadequate. India has seen protests before, but not this kind of sustained resolve from so young a cohort. Somewhere along the way, it became a new normal that ministers in the Modi government simply do not resign. The last resignation under sustained public pressure was M.J. Akbar, and that now feels like a previous lifetime. Even that resignation was not for non-performance but for accountability all the same.

Cynics dismiss the protests as performative, designed for the 'gram. That may well be true for some. But even if social media amplified the movement, it does not diminish the courage required to walk into what had become a literal war zone. Pellet guns, nail-bearing lathis and an overwhelming police force are hardly props for a photoshoot. The same police personnel who, before and after the violence, were eating food brought for these very students, were also mercilessly lashing out at them. Facepalm MillennialsЁЯджЁЯП┐.

Now the question remains: what will Gen Z do after they assume power? 

Five or ten years from now, when this generation occupies positions of power, we shall discover what it truly stands for. It is easy to be idealistic when one has no power. It is easy to be socialist when one is a penniless student. Can those ideals survive when you are running a start-up on the verge of going public? Can they survive when you are a minister balancing party donors and the faceless voter sleeping on the sidewalks?

The movie Article 15 contains a seminal line: "Power ka alag hi jaat hai." Few dialogues define politics better. We often elect someone from the marginalised to represent us. The moment they attain power, however, they cease to be marginalised. Worse, they often cease to identify with the marginalised. The privileges of power have a seductive way of replacing the memory of powerlessness.

This is not unique to one generation. Every generation enters politics believing it will be different from the one before it. Recent examples, such as the Aam Aadmi Party, remind us how profoundly power can alter political behaviour.  Even the leaders of this protest could not resist providing interviews to the same channels that ignored and despised them. However much you deride and belittle the channels, even they believe that legitimacy comes only from appearing on TV that mom sees at home. Such is the allure of power. 

Will Gen Z may well have won Round One. For that, it deserves recognition. But Round Two - the exercise of power - is always the harder contest. Until then, the verdict on Gen Z must remain reserved.

Sunday, October 27, 2024

Vettaiyan - promises, delivers, educates

The world of OTT has spoiled the audience for choice and has resulted in a very low threshold for bullshit. Hence, travelling to a cinema hall, requires, multiple thoughts. Vettaiyan, was worth that travel. Although I watch movies rarely, when I do, I see a gradual shift in Tamil cinema. In Raayan, in the ponnu-paakura scene, the women were sitting on the chair, as against the floor. Very low bar, yes. Also Raayan, handled rape and rape survival differently with aigiri nandini thundering in the background.

In Vettaiyan, the damsel-in-distress trope has been abandoned. The women have their say, and find ways to come out of their misery, not waiting for the hero to arrive and swoop in. Girls with hijab as background dancers was interesting to note. Gnanavel, after Jai Bhim, has again managed to make human rights mainstream, which is no mean feat in a Rajini movie.
But some old habits die hard. It did feel like the fights were included begrudgingly. Helpless goons waiting for their turn to be bashed, has really become cringe, in 2024. But many seem to love it. One disturbing scene is repeated multiple times, for no real reason, which is a big downer, because this is a movie which everybody should see, including children.
At the age of 73, Rajini is still mesmerising on the screen. And I am not even a fan. Anirudh's BGM is Anirudh's BGM!! Everything else has been written and said about it. Fafa walks a slender line balancing comedy and intellect tactfully. AB does not seem to be mouthing his dialogues in Tamil, so was less convincing to me. But seeing two stalwarts together on screen may evoke nostalgia for some.
I have long been intrigued by encounters. The movie does traverse the opposite ends of the debate. Breaking the worship of extrajudicial killings, created by this same industry, could not be done hastily. And it takes time, which an impatient watcher may not be willing to concede. In a patriarchal, misogynistic Tamil cinematic universe, creators like Pa. Ranjith, Maari Selvaraj and Gnanavel are taking one step at a time, in making human rights, evocative, appealing and entertaining. To that end, they deserve all credits.

Sunday, October 8, 2023

рооாройாройродு роиீро░ோроЯைропை Maanaanadhu neerodaiyai ( lyrics

I was surprised that the lyrics of this beautiful song was not found on the internet. So decided to contribute. 

 рооாройாройродு роиீро░ோроЯைропை ро╡ாроЮ்роЪிрод்родு роХродро▒ுрооாрок் рокோро▓ 

родேро╡ройே роОрой் роЖрод்родுрооா роЙроо் рооேро▓் ро╡ாроЮ்роЪைропாроп் роЗро░ுроХ்роХிрой்ро▒родு 

 - рооாройாройродு роиீро░ோроЯைропை 


роЙрой் родேро╡рой் роОроЩ்роХே роОрой்ро▒ு роОрой் роЪрод்ро░ுроХ்роХро│் ро╡ிро│роо்рокுроХிро▒ாро░் (2)

роОрой் роХрог்рогீро░ே роОройроХ்роХு роЙрогро╡ாропிро▒்ро▒ு (2 ) - рооாройாройродு 


роОрой் роЖрод்родுрооாро╡ே роиீ роОрой் роЙройроХ்роХுро│் родிропроЩ்роХுроХிро▒ாроп் (2 ) 

роОрой் роЗро░роЯ்роЪிрок்рокிрой் родேро╡рой் роОройроХ்роХிро▓்ро▓ைропோ (2 )  - рооாройாройродு 


рокроХро▒்роХாро▓род்родிро▓ே роЙроо் роХிро░ுрокைропை рокொро┤ிро╡родிройாро▓் (2)

роЗро░ாроХ்роХாро▓род்родிро▓் роиாрой் рокாроЯுроХிро▒ேрой்(2 ) - рооாройாройродு


Transliteration in English

Maanaanadhu neerodaiyai vaanjithu kadharuma pola

Dhevane en aathuma um mel vaanjaiayi irukkinrdhu

 - Maanaanadhu neerodaiyai 


Un dhevan enge endru en sathrukkal viLambugiraar(2)

en kannerae enakku unvaayitru(2) - Maanaanadhu


En aathumaave nee yen enakkul thiyangugiraai(2)

en iratchippin dhevan enakkillaiyo(2) - Maanaanadhu


Pagarkaalaththile um kirubaiyai pozhivathinaal (2)

raakkaalaththil naan paadugiren(2) - Maanaanadhu


Tuesday, July 28, 2020

Dil Bechara - an overrated disappointment

This is my private blog. I am not even advertising it anywhere. If you came here by yourself, don't curse me.

Dil Bechara was released in the aftermath of Sushant's death by suicide. While the reasons for his suicide remain highly debated in TV newsrooms and made mincemeat of by opportunists, a rising wave of supporters for SSR just wouldn't allow any criticism about SSR at all.

I know very little about SSR. His only movie I ever saw was Dil Bechara because the music was by AR Rahman. Both the movie and the music was a disappointment. But this cannot be said out loud, so I had to return to my bunker for expressing it. One, this wretched tradition that you cannot say anything ill about the departed. Two, in the Indian tradition, the person immediately receives the title 'swargiya' (heavenly), irrespective of how lousy they would have been during their lifetime [even this cannot be said out loud because how dare a person with a Christian name, say anything critical about the Indian tradition]. Three, the sympathy wave for SSR has been turned into a binomial battle between those who support nepotism and those who don't - only in Bollywood, not necessarily in other spheres of life.

The film had a very predictable, dark storyline - whatever thin whiff that was presented as a plot. Full of imageries, dialogues and sceneries associated with death and its surrounding eerieness. I learnt about that fateful lung infection which causes you to carry an oxygen pump (Pushpinder) wherever you go.

One expected that the film would break out of the cast of sad cancer-based movies and resonate with hope and humour. It did for a short while, but quickly returning to death and despair. His final word on-screen was 'Seri' a Tamil word. As a Tamil-speaking person, I was mildly enthused but was again disappointed that, that part of his background was not explored at all. In comparison to the multiple references to the Bengali background of Kizie Basu, his love interest.

The final scenes of the film show SSR grotesquely with phlegm and sputum and everything. When you look back, it is quite scary to think that SSR decided to end his life after doing this extremely dark movie. Most of the dialogues in hindsight seem very prescient and hence his fans would reminisce with shocking horror. As a non-fan, I wasn't impressed. The lead girl's (debutant) acting is praiseworthy.

SSR, I hear left his long-time girlfriend from his TV serial times when he shot to fanfare on the big screen. He seems to have more than a  million followers on social media. Some say, he has a property on the moon too. He seemed to have a line-up of movies which released even after his death. He was in no way on the downward curve of his career. All of this makes his end, more and more intriguing.

I have no personal beef against SSR. Dil Bechara will reach a cult-status with his fans, because he went too soon, after this. As a movie, it was not appealing in the least. And somebody had to say that, objectively!! These days it is very difficult to make that distinction in the public sphere. The assumption that if you like a person, you need to like their work. Alternately, if you do not like a person's work, it is construed to mean that you hate them. The world needs to break out of this idiotic thinking. A lot of acrimony would be spared!!

Sunday, September 15, 2019

The curious case of Hindi!

I have now lived for about 9 years in North India. One of the reasons I got my first job, as a Counsellor, in Bihar was because I knew Hindi. Hindi was compulsory in our school till Class 8. Like every other subject, I studied it with perseverance. Apart from adding to the weight of the school bag and the burden of another subject to study and write exams on, I am unable to recollect what 'harm' Hindi actually caused me.
Learning Hindi, helps me enjoy Hindi movies and programmes on TV and also helps with everyday conversations with those who don't speak English in North India. Having said this, I have seen through my own eyes, people who did not know a tittle of Hindi, come to North India and master the language in 'less than 6 months'. I know a Tamil friend who picked up Hindi enough to stand and preach among people who knew no other language than Hindi. I am yet to encounter people from TN, in my 9 years, who have 'suffered' as a result of not knowing Hindi. But even the ones who do, do not suffer any more than North Indians struggling for the first few weeks/months in Tamil Nadu.
In conclusion: I did not suffer from learning Hindi as a subject; I have not seen Tamil people suffering from not knowing Hindi too.
But the present discourse is not about my experience. But one of public policy. 'Including', and I use the word advisedly, Hindi in Tamil Nadu curriculum, I do not think will cause the kind of worry that it is perceived to be. The additional 'privilege' of knowing another language continues to be elitist in TN. And Hindi does have a wider currency in this country than any other language. On the other hand, spending a vast amount of tax resources in including Hindi as part of the curriculum (Government) seems to be fixing something that is NOT broken at all. There are several other pressing issues, TN and other non-Hindi states might spend their energy on. Add to this, the sinister political motives of Hindi being bandied about as the ONLY unifier and identifier (horrors!) of the country, defacing milestones with Hindi and the repetitive obnoxiousness repeated by even State governors about Hindi being the national language. All deplorable.
As a Tamil person living in Delhi, I speak Hindi when I go to restaurants and shops here. As a migrant labourer in Delhi, I try to speak the language of the masses here. I go to Chennai and again have to speak in Hindi. The migrant labourers there force me to talk in Hindi as they are no good with the language of the masses there. This is the Hindi hegemony I am against. Screwed both ways - we are. I guess the solution lies somewhere between a high handed #Imposition and a very paranoic #Resistance to Hindi.

Thursday, July 4, 2019

Article 15 - a proud page from the Constitution

#Article15 is one step next to #PariyerumPerumal and other movies in that genre. It is not necessarily the logical next step or even the next step in cinematic brilliance. It is the next step in the cinematic narrative that has evolved in the past few years in the realm of movies that have now boldly taken on the beast of caste. What was once spoken in hushed tones is now spoken loud and clear, on a large screen, with scintillating background music, a riveting screenplay and ounces of talent oozing from each department that takes to make a full-length movie. The interval break with the camera focusing on Article 15 of the constitution and Vande Mataram in the background raises goosebumps - in sharp contrast to the forced national anthem at the beginning of the movie. You really want to get up and salute the makers of this glorious Constitution. Talking of which, I wondered, how little I know of Dr Ambedkar. He is just a mention in my General Knowledge sphere, associated with the constitution. But in three movies now that touch upon caste, he is almost the Central Figure. He is not another historical character. He is an emotion, life and blood in these movies and perhaps the caste consciousness of this country. Ayan's candid conversations with Aditi are written to speak to the urban conscience of this country, which lives, as pointed out, in another country. Sometimes it's a soft prick, then it's a jab and in some moments it is a violent thrust.

I went to the movie, as it was recommended highly on social media. It did not disappoint. While movies like Pariyerum Perumal highlighted the caste oppression, Article 15 delves on what can be done next, and now. Which, to me personally, is hugely pertinent and critical. Ayan's struggle brilliantly elucidates why eradicating caste hierarchy is not a linear exercise.

But the end though is disappointing. That a Messianic, James Bond type, Brahmin Saviour is indeed needed to arrive at the answer - something the film had laboured to negate the rest of the 125 minutes. Having said that, it is making good money at the box office, is what I hear. All good news for quality cinema in this country. No unnecessary fight scenes. No songs. No dance. Just scripted poetry in motion. So much so that now Ayushmann Khurrana has made a name for himself for the scripts he chooses. 

Monday, March 11, 2019

The Politics of Compartments

The last five years have been epochal to my thought processes. I would have liked to imagine myself as a thinking person, but the last few years made me rethink if thought processes were water-tight compartments and if I ought to align myself to any. I had to Google and find what right wing and left wing meant and ponder where I actually fit [better]. Suddenly I realised that that world has been torn asunder by these political thought processes and we are ever tossed about between these two ideologies.

Some time ago, I listened to a few talks on the resurgence of the right wing. One of the reasons espoused was that the elitist of the left felt it condescending to engage with the common people whose sentiments the right-wing politicians were successful enough in whipping up and have consequently won one election after another in different parts of the world. If the left weren’t acting like these self-appointed sanctimonious pricks, we would not be in this situation to start with, they opined.

Meanwhile, why don’t we discuss these things more often? Our WhatsApp groups are often sanitized with ground rules not to discuss politics. But then, one friend interjected, "Why not"?  Politics now affects the way we dress, eat, walk and talk. If we are not informed and discuss it enough, politicians like to revel in this disinformation and discontentment which finds no way out. What we have lost in this divergence of the two worlds is the appreciation of the other side. We have lost the ability to see an opinion as divorced from the front that is propounding it. Hence, attacks become personal and then the scene gets ugly.

Today if I agree or disagree with a government programme I have to proclaim a disclaimer if I belong to the Congress or the BJP or none - so as to be treated accordingly. While the government of the day seems to have gone overboard and branded every criticism as ‘anti-national’, mature, non-partisan praise of the initiatives taken by the government have also become rare. I do not like this government’s obsession with the cow, but I do believe that the Swacch Bharat Mission is a good ideal. A few years ago, a sentence like this would have been considered normal. But now the fractured society does not want either part of the sentence to be in the same sentence. That is the really sorry state of our times.


This is what we need to break. Friends of the BJP would like to believe that India was born in May 2014. This country was NOTHING before that day and everything that it is today is because of the last 5 years, they reiterate. At the least, educated people should not fall for this. Even, by 2014 India was already a growing superpower, with its IITs and IIMs, with landmark acts like the NREGA, RTE and RTI. Could they have done better? Of course. Did the Congress capitalise on the many decades of absolute no-opposition,  in building a country that is not corrupt? No. By the end of 2014, they did become a gigantic, colossal, epitome of ineptitude. But, has the BJP capitalised on its unimagined overwhelming majority and windfall in crude oil prices? No. Do I believe the Congress to be the only alternative to BJP and vice-versa? No. We need to rise above these compartmentalised thinking – if we need better solutions to our age-old problems. 

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Pariyerum Perumal - where it strikes and where it disappoints

I went to see Pariyerum Perumal entirely swayed by comments on Facebook. By the time I did go, the film had reached a cult status, the kind that you can't cast a stone on. But like every other thing approached with skyrocketing expectations, this one disappointed too. The movie is a powerful narrative piercing the conscience of an urban milieu which often sweeps caste under its carpet and brings it out at opportune moments. Anybody who has watched the movie cannot come away unmoved. But I did feel that the movie, having very clearly set the ground for elucidating the issue, should have gone towards a solution. Anybody who has been following the news channels closely in the recent past would readily agree with the opening line that caste and religion have often been against humanity. But if you ask, what next. What shall we do about it, the movie does not provide clear answers. The end to me was very insipid. The recurrent theme, that the oppressed are not going to take this anymore lying down is a worthy first step. But is that enough? Although in jest, the movie shows the protagonist using underhand methods to pass English papers in 10th and 12th board exams. I fear this might prove counter-productive. That it lends ammunition for others to believe that people who have risen up from the lower echelons would have used deceptive means on the way. On another note, for a movie so bold in its approach and theme, it still needed to have a fair-skinned heroine. That was another disappointment. Why is the Tamil film industry so obsessed with fair-skinned heroines when that is not the skin tone of the majority? I understand that creating a movie is an enormous exercise of pain and labour. But having set the stage, a fertile ground to strike a deathly blow, the director finishes with a pinch. That is the disappointment.

Monday, March 19, 2018

Learning from Stephen Hawking

Last week when Dr Stephen Hawking died, I was ranting about my lack of capacity to appreciate his contributions to Science and wondered why everybody was going so much gaga over him. A friend of mine asked me to read his book, 'A Brief History of time'. So, in the spirit of forming an informed opinion, I listened to the entire recording of the book on YouTube. All of 5 hours - spread across many days. And I should confess, even after such a laborious effort, his concepts are still too dense, and too far removed from my immediate level of understanding. But I gleaned a few learnings: i) We are infinitesimally insignificant in the larger cosmos of things. "That we live on a minor planet of a very average star". But that is what the Bible too said. In Tamil, it is so vividly captured in Psalm 8 verses 3 and 4. "роЙроородு ро╡ிро░ро▓்роХро│ிрой் роХிро░ிропைропாроХிроп роЙроо்рооுроЯைроп ро╡ாройроЩ்роХро│ைропுроо், роиீро░் ро╕்родாрокிрод்род роЪрои்родிро░ройைропுроо், роироЯ்роЪрод்родிро░роЩ்роХро│ைропுроо் роиாрой் рокாро░்роХ்роХுроо்рокோродு, рооройுро╖ройை роиீро░் роиிройைроХ்роХிро▒родро▒்роХுроо், рооройுро╖роХுрооாро░ройை роиீро░் ро╡ிроЪாро░ிроХ்роХிро▒родро▒்роХுроо் роЕро╡рой் роОроо்рооாрод்родிро░роо் роОрой்роХிро▒ேрой்". People like Hawking had the luxury of a Hubble telescope and studies from expensive Space programmes to arrive at this. David, the author of this Psalm was a shepherd boy with a lyre and a sling. ii) Science, however advanced, has repeatedly changed its narrative over the past few hundred years. What was celebrated a few years ago is now denounced with ridicule. And that, very aspect of the scientific temper is appreciated as the virtue of the empirical learning process. As a result what we today believe as 'scientific truth' could tomorrow be decimated as ancient naivety. Consequently, if we were to believe that Science has provided all the answers or if it's current answers are true, we only need to go as far as the various views on the black holes and how they have been changing constantly, sometimes one against the other. iii) Just because a Scientist has said something, it doesn't make it the truth. They are constantly researching and we never know at which point, they have finally arrived at the truth. There is hardly anything called 'independent' research and probably that gives away what I mean ЁЯШЙ. iv) That Stephen Hawking continued his research and talks and talk shows, appearances in sitcoms and family life with three children, in spite of his extremely debilitating condition is a universe of inspiration in and by itself. v) Lastly, this whole process has taught me a new appreciation for the word called 'Humility'. There is still a lot of things unknown. St. Paul says "Now, I know in part (like the reflection in a mirror!!). Then, I shall know fully". This is exactly true about what our brightest minds know about the origin of Universe and where it is heading towards. Till then, I think we should learn to respect each others' opinion with humility. To the prospect that even if the person sitting before me has a diagonally opposite opinion to mine, there is always a possibility that s/he could be true.

Friday, November 20, 2015

My most memorable trips

i) Without doubt, the first on the list has to be our maiden flight to Sri Lanka - International Study Tour in MSW. For somebody who had up to PG, not even been on the 'red train', a flight journey during those times was a dream stored up for some distant future. With the fresh whiff of passport pages and the ink that signed it not yet dried, we were standing on the ramp to board the flight, heart pounding and not even knowing what to expect. The plane made its long, slow detour on the Tiruchi runway and finally came to its mark to take-off. And then suddenly the engines seemed to rev up and shift gears and there was this loud, thunderous noise outside, building up a pulsating climax and then, like a tiger having spotted its prey, the plane seemed to scratch its legs and took on an earth-shattering speed and then up in the air, defying gravity for the very first time in my life. I have been on a flight many times since. Many other things associated with flight travel have become mundane now - except the last few (thrilling) seconds before take-off. Like the heart-beats of the first sex, the memory of this first take-off shall remain etched forever. 
*******
ii) It was a usual journey back from Chennai to Vellore. The only difference was Sriram's new Zen Estilo. We were listening to some lovely songs in it, reminiscing the memories associated with each song. And suddenly came 'Nenjiniley'. I had heard that song many times, in passing. That day, my wife pointed out its lyrics and unravelled its meaning, or rather its double meanings wink emoticon . Like a child slowly understanding a complex mathematical theorem, my eyes lit up - one bulb at a time. It was a particularly busy Sunday evening on the NH46 and we were crawling lazily at one of the toll plazas, with the cool A/C breeze protecting us from the furnace of the Vellore roads outside the car. When the line 'Dheebangal anaippathe, puthiya porul naan thedathaan' came up, all the adults in the car yelled rumbustiously, like in a rock concert and Theophy stared at us. That song and that trip remains - nenjiniley!!
*******
iii) Moonar - a million shades of green!! I was sitting at the back of the Tata Sumo, we hired. And I think I will advise that to anybody who travels to Moonar. Sitting at the back seat and looking at the sceneries from the back wind-shield, gives a unique experience. It kinda builds up the suspense of how the mountains unfold in all its glory. At one particular bend, the car slowly winded up the hill and the shoulder of the mountain, gradually grew up in sight and then finally stood up before like a giant. I have replayed that scene in my mind many, many times, with the song that was running in the background that day - the remix version of 'Netru illaatha maatram'. That is when I started developing a renewed appreciation for nature. Every time I veer towards atheism, I remember nature. I remember Moonar and say to myself, 'not yet'!
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iv) I had promised my wife that I will show her snowfall. After a failed attempt to Shimla, we decided to go to Kashmir during the last week of 2012. On the 1st of January 2013, after many, many years of waiting, we were blessed to travel 8 hours amidst pouring snowfall from Gulmarg to Pahalgam. As the car was not a 4x4, after some time, the journey started becoming scary as it began to skid on the ice. There is a narrow, precipitous strip just 1 km before Pahalgam. The car wouldnt move. We had come too far to even go back. Accelerating the car was moving it sidewards and not forward. That strip was about 50 feet above ground, overlooking a stream. The road had no side railings. A fall from there, would have been certain death. A kind family helped us push the car, and with perseverant maneuvering, the car cleared the snow beneath it and jumped to safety. This horrifying near-death experience was worth it, because of the beauty that waited for us, the next morning. That beauty continues to be our Facebook cover photo till today.
Some destinations are memorable. Other times, the journey itself is memorable. I guess, life's like that!!

Friday, November 6, 2015

My most memorable tastes

My most memorable tastes:
1) While in Bihar, we used to go out eating once every month. When we moved to Vellore, we were trying to do the same and friends introduced us to Darling rooftop. Having just arrived from North India, I liked to taste dosai, a bit differently. My eyes careened on to a dish which I still order in any restaurant in Tamil Nadu - Mutton Keema Dosai. Since then, I have had different versions of the mutton keema dosai at different places, but none beats Darling Rooftop of Vellore.
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2) In 2010, after about 6 months of bland English food, my tongue was craving for something hot and spicy. It was the last day of a workshop in Dar-es-salaam, Tanzania. As I was one of the organisers of the workshop, I was the last person to leave the venue. By now, the staff at the venue had become familiar with me - and it was owned by an Indian. While I came for breakfast that last morning, the person at the restaurant said, 'Sir, you wait, we'll make something for you'. These apparently, are some of the perks, if you are part of an organising team of a workshop in a hotel. Gazing at the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean warmed gently by the February sun, and the curved coconut trees, sitting in a red plastic chair, under the shade, miles and miles away from home, missing home-food like crazy, I saw food coming, finally. When I opened, it was poori-sabji and masala chai!! You never know how much something means to you, until you are deprived of it. Borrowing a Biblical metaphor, like water on a parched land, I let the poori, the sabji and chai sink into me. The memory is so fresh that it still feels like bliss. Against the lilting waves and the classic scenery, I got heaven summoned to my desk.
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3) While staying with Jordy's family, in Melbourne, she took me to a Malay restaurant. I ordered a soup, the name of which I cannot remember, because those are the types of names I order when I go to restaurants, especially when I am not paying!! It was a chilly night, and the restaurant was cosy. We had a long, winding chat about college and friends and friends' families and the soup arrived. As I tasted it, my eyes lit up and a zillion things were happening inside my mouth, like the taste buds were having a dance party. I was smelling with my eyes and seeing with my tongue. My senses got mixed up. It was orgasmic.
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4) In our office, we get treats or order treats or bulldoze somebody into treating for sometimes, the lamest of reasons. It was somebody's treat and the sweet ordered was Rasmalai. Evergreen's Rasmalai. THAT is a royal treat!! It is when you taste a dish like that you realise, how much joy, food can give!!
****************
5) But none of these even come close to the last dish. And that is my pondatti's meen kozhambu (wife's fish curry). Soon after I fell in love with Anitha, I also realised that she's an amazing cook. She's lived up to the promise, almost every single day of the last ten years. And her meen kozhambu, served with love, is epic. And it gets addictive as it ages. I say to God, that if you have food in heaven, please have non-veg in the menu and let my wife's fish curry be there.
That - will - make - it - everlasting.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

How the poor become poorer

This is not a paper on the theories of Economics. It’s not even a debate this time. It’s a true story, a painfully long story.

Often people wonder about this clich├йd phrase 'the rich become richer and the poor become poorer'. While the rich becoming richer is a very easy phenomenon to understand, 'the poor becoming poorer part' needs some thought.

Ropan is a cobbler in a Leprosy Hospital. He is supposed to help leprosy patients (ah yes Persons with Hansen's Disease) with their Micro Cellular Rubber (MCR) footwear. I say he is supposed to, because he hardly works. He is one of those 'typical' case study material. Defaulting at work, alcoholic, wife-beating, gambling and add upon it 7 children. Yes you read it right - seven!! I knew him when I used to work in Bihar. I was asked to counsel him. Like all well-meaning counselees, he would nod with a smile, with a mouthful of khaini and went back to his ways, ever so often. The hospital authorities did not want to take any 'action' against him as they saw, in cinematic language 'the seven small children' behind him. He used this shield and felt that he could walk around scot-free.

Not for long.

It’s been more than 5 years since I left the hospital and Bihar. Ropan, I heard had never changed his ways. The hospital authorities had had too much of him and finally gave him a choice of either transfer or termination. Ropan opted the transfer - to a non-descript place called Salur in Andhra Pradesh, where they speak as much Hindi as the number of test victories the Indian cricket team manages to achieve overseas - close to NIL. Of the seven children only 1, the eldest (girl) had managed to complete schooling during their time in Bihar. The rest are yet to complete school education. 5 of those children have not gone beyond class 6. The youngest is 8 years and the eldest is 18 years. Government education in AP means Telugu, of which they cannot fathom a syllable. Their education now stands still. During their one month of stay in AP, the parents fought incessantly and with schooling not helping, the mother and the 7 children decided to come to Delhi to find 'their ways' in this wild city.

They tried to find houses near relatives, but the children didn’t like the experience. They now live in a truly Dickensian neighbourhood, in a run-down dilapidated shack with no 'eyes on the future'. The girl is a talented singer. But her mother doesn’t like her doing the rounds with the 'choir' party. She is on the verge of singing in a studio. The church they have been going have been very helpful in finding a job for the girl, but the mother is not very approving of the 'sir' who found her the job. To top it all the mother is an illiterate and still can’t get her grips with life in a big city. The elder children lament that her mother just doesnt seem to understand that they will not be safe with their 'safe' relatives. The naughtiest of the 7 children, is already careening on the edges with anti-social elements.

While we were speaking on the terrace, eagles were hovering above us near one of the biggest poultry farms I have ever seen. Here is a family, with innocent small children thrown open to the vultures and the eagles of this world waiting to prey upon them - in Delhi, of all places! The word 'vulnerable' was standing right before me crying between alternative sentences!!

Aisha the eldest and Akshit, the next who has not even finished class 11 are now left with bearing the huge responsibility of this huge family.

I spent about 3 hours with this family - which is teetering on its edge. I walked away with a well of emotions - sad, angry, disappointed, confused, troubled - but with hope. I am not able to walk past this story. Not another file to be stowed away for ‘further’ study.

Arent we, the 'Social Work' types, supposed to be making a difference in lives like these? On my way back I was asking more questions with few answers.

Thats why I wrote this.

I am exploring opportunities like vocational education/job for the elder children, hostel for the kids, monetary support etc., - but want to tread with caution. They are still not orphaned children, although their state would qualify for it. They exist in a set-up where the concept of family has just vanished into thin air.

If you guys have ideas, suggestions, contacts, networks or even questions that could help, do let me know.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Sara Sara Saara kaathu - English translation

I found that many people had required a translation of this beautiful song. I coulndt locate this on the net, so I decided to do it myself. People can suggest improvements where needed.

┼аara ┼аara ┼аaara Kathu Veesum P├╕thum
┼аir ah Paarthu Paesum P├╕thum
┼аara Paambu P├╕la Nenju ┼аaththam P├╕duthey..

When the cold wind blows and when I look at ‘Sir’ and talk
My heart thumps like a rattle snake


Ithu Ithu Ithu P├╕na Nenju Thaika
Otha Paarva Paarthu ┼аella M├╕ththa ┼а├╕tha
├Иzhuthi Thaaraen M├╕├╕chu Utpada..

I will write all my property including my breath to you
For you to stitch my broken heart with just a glance at me

Tea, P├╕la Nee.. ├Иnna Aen, Aathura..

Why are you waiting for the heat to get cold as if I am ‘Tea’
Enga Ooru Pudikutha? Enga Thaani Inikutha?
Suthi Varum Kaathula, Suttu Eeral Manakutha?
Do you like our village? Is our water sweet?
Does the liver cooked in the village air, smell good?

Mutta Kozhi Pudikava, Moonu Padi ┼аamaikava?
├Иlumbugal Kadikaiyil, ├Иnna K├╕njam Ninaikava?

Shall I catch a desi chicken, shall I cook three measures?
So that you will think of me, when you bite the bones

Kamman ┼а├╕aru Rusikava, ┼аamacha Kaiya K├╕njam Rasikava..
M├╕dakathan Rasam Vachi Madakathaan Paakuraen..
Retta Dh├╕sa ┼аuttu Vachi, Kaava Kaakuraen..

Come and taste the rice and be enamored by the hand that cooked it,
I have prepared rasam to allure you,
I have prepared two dosas and am waiting for you

Mukkanna N├╕ngu Thaan Vekkiraen..
Mandu Nee Kangayen Kaetkura..

I have kept three-eyed palm fruit.
But you fool, want its outer shell (with nothing inside)

Pullu Kattu Vaasama, Buthi Kulla Veesura..
Maatu Mani ┼аaththama, Mansakul Kaetkura..

You seep into my mind like the smell of stacked grass
You echo in my heart like the sound of the cow bells

Kattavandi Oattura, Kaiyalavu Manasula..

You are riding a cart, in my palm-sized heart

Kai ├Иzhuthu P├╕dura Kanni P├╕nnu Maarbula..
You are signing your name on the breast of this virgin

M├╕├╕nu Naala Paakala.. O├╕ril ├Иntha P├╕├╕vum P├╕├╕kala..
I haven’t see you for three days and no flower has bloomed in this place

Aatu Kallu Kuliyila Urangi P├╕v├╕am P├╕├╕nayai..
Thanna Vanthu Parthuthan Kirangi P├╕renya
Like a pussy cuddling inside a grinding stone
I come out, see you and swoon off

Meenuku Aengura K├╕kku Nee..
K├╕thavae Theriyala Makku Nee..

You are a crane longing for the fish
But you fool you don’t know how to peck..

Kaatu Malligai P├╕├╕thirukuthu Kaathala Kaathala
Vanthu Vanthu Oadip├╕gum Vandukenna Kaachala..

Oh my love, the wild flower has blossomed
Is the bee sick from visiting this flower ever so often??

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Fearfully and wonderfully made

A film like Endhiran reminds me why so many people exclaim with the psalmist that man is fearfully and wonderfully made. I have never realised that it is an oxymoron that something can be made fearful and at the same time wonderful. Chitti is simply that. The first half of the film shows that he is wonderful and the second half shows that he is fearful.
Throughout the ages science has often posed a challenge to creation and Endhiran is the final frontier of trying to superimpose emotions onto a robot. Dr. Vaseegaran is faced with the same perplexing questions which God often faces - of placing a 'free-will' into his most advanced creation 'MAN'. God can do everything by might and power as beautifully demonstrated in the film 'Bruce Almighty', but not 'force' somebody to love. Chitti again reiterated to me that any all-powerful creation cannot create or extract love from another human being; that even God is helplessly waiting at me for the reciprocal of his love shown to me.
The Bible recounts in just its 6th Chapter in the 6th verse, that God repented for having created man - that that verse is found in page 6 of the Tamil Bible is a curiouse case of coincidence, a topic for another day. But how can God 'repent'? Why would God feel sorry for a wrong doing, if that is what repentance means? Those questions are answered in Endhiran. Vaseegaran as the creator, leads us through those emotions.
To me the real hero of the film is Shankar, the director. He had the guts to dream a dream and has achieved it, providing further inspiration to the dreamers. It will always be a debate if God was right in providing free-will to man, if Vaseegaran was right in providing emotions to Chitti. If there was no free-will there is no free, unrestrained love. And God valued that free-love so much that he would stake the whole world for it.
Endhiran is a beautiful portrayal of the struggle between power and love. Even in real life, much has been talked about jodu ka gulaams and hen-pecked husbands. When you come to think of it, every man of the house could whack his wife and get work done, but will that evoke true love? I am sure it wont. It is the cruel path of sacrifice, understanding and patience that will do it. For those reasons a man and a woman are fearfully and wonderfully made - to live with and for each other. No Endhiran will be able to match that.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

An act of God

I am writing this from Dubai en route to Chennai. The past week has been nothing but devastatingly wrecking and devastatingly wonderful. The volcanic ash cloud from Iceland had been severely thwarting my travel plans for the past week and a half. And it did cause immense chaos to thousands of air travel passengers around the world in a scale never imagined before, reminding us all what a small world we live in. A pinprick here and the whole balloon is affected. Interestingly I was finishing my eight month internship at this same time in the UK. So anticipation to meet family was extremely high which heightened the personal crisis for me.
Among all this chaos what was funny was the recurrent occurrence of the phrase ‘act of God’. It was extremely funny as the western world has long abandoned any serious mention of God in the public place. It truly was an act of God. No human force could stand before it. Million-dollar airlines had to bow their knees before an all-powerful Volcano. UK would not have uttered the word ‘God’ so much in recent times, as insurance companies kept reiterating that it was an act of God and they had nothing or little to offer.
On the other hand the fact that I am sitting here in Dubai on the date I was supposed to be here, is in itself an act of God for me. That my flight departed on time, when that was a serious question mark on it for the whole of last week is furthermore an act of God. I remember the song, that God will make a way. By the roadway in the wilderness he will lead me. Rivers in the desert will I see. The roads in Dubai are in fact streaks of pathway between wilderness and the waters in the deserts from the plane above did shine there glimmer between the deserts.
While I am writing this rosy picture, I also remember the thousands of people, who could not find a roadway in the wilderness, who did not see the rivers in the desert for the past ten days. Would I have been writing this blog if I was one of those hundreds of thousands stranded in an international airport without food or lodging? How did God act for them? Rather, why did God NOT act for them? Or was there God through this entire melee? How do we know? If only the ash cloud had moved North instead of South a fraction of the current affected would have been affected. If it had moved in a north-easterly direction not a soul would have fluttered. While it taught us all important lessons about volcanoes and aeronautical engineering, what does it teach about God? What fun could have God possibly had in stopping people attending marriages (some their own), funerals, meeting their beloved ones and scores crying in airports in utter desperation? If it is an act of God, why would he act this way? More questions and fewer answers.
As for me it did teach a lot of gratitude. You never know how much something means to you, until it becomes a matter of life or death to you. While I had become inure to flying, after hopping into a number of planes over the past eight months, for the first time, I am grateful to acknowledge the dynamics behind a flight taking off on time and landing safely. Something as remote as a volcano called Eyjafjallaj├╕kull in Iceland which people would have never heard and would never be able to pronounce even if they wanted to curse it, can wreck or ruin their life in Beijing or Chennai tells us that we are really walking on thin ice daily. And maybe we should not take things for granted. Every blessing, every good thing might be actually an act of God. As for the catastrophes - are they also an act of God…. I don’t know. That would be one of the first questions I would ask Him, when I see Him in person. That is one flight I am pretty much sure will not be disrupted by a two-bit volcano. I will be with my Saviour in the Heavenly heavens.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Church: Why bother?

For ages mankind has tussled with the notion of religion and the meaning or meaninglessness it brings to everyday life. Notwithstanding any of these tussles, I went in search of a church here in Tanzania. I eyed a particular church but settled for the one which came the nearest on my route. It had none of the paraphernalia of a church. It was a make-shift school building, which they had hired to gather to worship. An unobtrusive worship service which had 5 adults including me and 4 children running around. One girl had studied English and was my translator for the day, trying her ‘best’ from Swahili to English.
To me it was just another Sunday morning worship in a church, just a different location. But not to the church members, especially the pastor. The moment they saw a visitor step into the church their hearts bubbled with joy. They did not expect me to stay for long. When they saw that I did stay through till the sermon, they were exhilarated to no end. That small church with no musical instruments, no proper chairs or tables, no AV equipment, was the last to expect a visitor and when they learnt that I am from India, the pastor was on the verge of tears. To him, I was God-sent, a blessing to his church. He repeatedly blessed me, which was a little embarrassing, for just choosing to sit in their church.
Most of the western world, has long abandoned church and any form of religion. “Christians do horrible things during the six days of the week. Come Sunday, they buckle a Bible under their armpits and strut along to church proclaiming godliness. What a shame!” they shrug. One of my friends gave a very profound reply to that oft-repeated trite against Christians. He said, “Christians go to church not because they are holy; but on the contrary they acknowledge their unholiness and are trying something concrete to do about it”. I would apply that to every seeker of God, while in no way condoning the hypocrisy involved in religion.
I asked the girl who translated for me if she had an English Bible. She said “No, but I woood like if I haad one”. I gave my English Bible to her and walked away. I came out of the experience trying to unravel the cosmic experience of it. God chose a person from India, who is currently, based in London to go to Tanzania and hand-deliver a little girl her much-wanted English Bible. When I learnt that my common everyday act can be a harbinger of blessing to others, it did give a chill through my spine. I walked out of the church empty-handed but filled with joy and blessing in my heart.
I went and sat in that small church in a sleepy village in Tanzania on a Sunday morning, not because I was holy, but because I wanted to seek God among fellow-seekers. Surely I don’t understand many things, like the Haiti-earthquake or even the poverty of my earnest fellow-seekers in that small church. But if I understood everything, I would stop the seeking, wont I?

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The ordinary and the extraordinary

The other day I watched the film Slumdog millionaire.

Irrespective of its 8 Oscars, it is not a kind of film you can rub your seat off and walk away and forget before the popcorn digests out. It asks some compelling questions, particularly if you are an Indian, even so if you are presently living in the land of the film's director. I was watching from both those perspectives, which was an interesting and a precarious one.

Against much nationalist cry of portraying India negatively, the truth is that there does exist a slum as portrayed in the film. The film was not made in an erected-set, but real-life slums and roads, amidst the squalor and wretchedness of places which our fellow-brothers and sisters call 'home'. There are other ways to explain away the slums, but that is a debate for another day.

The film is a climax to a stage in India's growth where "India is at the centre of the world" (direct quote from a character in the film). Westerners view this fast-changing India with as much intrigue as chagrin. After about 115 minutes of the movie, when you reflect on what the movie actually wanted to say - "hope" is what clamours above many other close contenders.

From the sidelines of the movie, I unearthed an artiste called MIA who is my today's epitome of hope. MIA is the stage name of a Srilankan singer called Mathangi Arulpragasam. She incidentally was nominated for the Oscar for 'O..saya' with AR Rahman, making it a родрооிро┤் sweep of some sorts, which few people would have noticed. 'Paper planes' is another song from Slumdog Millionaire which is rarely talked about compared to 'O..saya' and 'Jai Ho'. That song is a MIA song which AR Rahman has used in this movie and also remixed. All this bloomed on me only when I saw the film and heard the songs in the context (typical of ARR songs!). When I read about Mathangi's life I couldnt find a better epitome of hope. Technically, a refugee - who went on to become a global rap and hip-hop star. More and more incidents like these are etching that strong belief in me so deeply that, you dont have to BE anybody to achieve anything. Anybody can achieve anything. The moral of the story is "It doesnt matter where you start from, but it does matter where you are going and where you reach". This theme is of course,more glamorously paraphrased by Silambarasan in one of his movies.

Unknowingly like a dog returning to its drinking bowl, this theme seems to recur again and again in my blog. Maybe years of pessimism needed this spell to instill some hope in me. While I am saying this, I need to recognise that we should continue doing the ordinary stuff, however boring - for the extra-ordinary to occur. Susan Boyle became extra-ordinary, because for more than 30 years she was doing the ordinary job of singing in clubs and pubs. While I have become more or less convinced of the pronounced role of luck in people's lives - both the presence or absence of it - luck by definition requires a basic degree of perseverance, I guess. We could say Frieda Pinto of Slumdog Millionaire, is very very lucky to reach there. But she had to have a basic requirement of being a model (the ordinary) to get noticed to catapult her into the extraordinary (of a Hollywood star). That motivates me. What I do today, may seem boring, repetitive and monotonous. But I have to continue doing this consistently and better every other time - for something extraordinary to occur, if at all!

For the record - Danny Boyle has been directing and producing films for the past thirty years!!! Were the 8 Oscars pure luck or a gift to somebody's perseverance? Difficult question, eh! Likewise AR Rahman wins an Oscar for what I would say is a Kindergarten rhyme by his standards, when so many of his masterpieces did not reach those heights at all.

I am now learning that those 'ordinary' masterpieces were needed to lead him to that 'extraordinary' Kindergarten rhyme, promptly titled 'Jai Ho'!!!

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

роЗрой்ройிроЪை роороЯ்роЯுроо் роЗро▓்ро▓ைропெрой்ро▒ாро▓்.......

I am beginning to learn why more art and literature have born out of grief, bereavement and sorrow than joy and mirth. Another song which swept me off my feet and again it is to do with pathos. For some mad reason, unfathomable even to the best of my rational cognitive abilities, these songs give me an intoxicating effect. I know I am walking through a scary path and I still enjoy the thrill of being absorbed into this vortex. As I dont know the effect of drug, alcohol or smoke's intoxication I imagine it should be somewhere comparable to this(Other more experienced veterans could enlighten me!). The first kick - the thrill of the adventurous journey - the spiral of the vortex - and the want for more and more and more and more!! Although most of the times I am caught unawares, I can tell its coming..Premonition, may be! or Providence!

For a 100 songs which people murmur during their daily chores, less than 10 would be a chirpy song I guess. MSV once said that their is no melody without melancholy. For some reason people like a longing, роТро░ு роПроХ்роХроо், sometimes not even knowing what they are longing for, but all the time loving that роПроХ்роХроо். Although I am not a fan of overtly mushy, emotional songs - songs like роОро╡ройோ роТро░ுро╡рой் were written for moments like these - and I am living that moment. In a quaint sense this phase has been a very nourishing, creative phase. And almost every other time, a sense of pathos accompanies that by serendipity or by default. Or maybe by design. When I think of the world's greatest books and literature written from prison cells - alarm bells are ringing for me!!! "роОрои்родрой் роЪோроХроо் родீро░்ро╡родро▒்роХு роЗродுрокோро▓் рооро░ுрои்родு рокிро░ிродிро▓்ро▓ைропே" This intoxxxxicating рооро░ுрои்родு called роХро▓ை."роХேроЯ்роЯு роХேроЯ்роЯு роиாрой் роХிро▒роЩ்роХுроХிро▒ேрой்"

I am unearthing these songs which I have heard many times before, like a lost treasure and dusting them down to sit and drink them, literally, particularly during a dry, parched season. The same unnoticed words hit me like a spear now, wrenching the deepest emotions out of me. Cinema for all its vulgarities and commerce, can still be a veritable celebration of arts on a grand scale is a soothing fact during these troubled times, in a world driven by self-aggrandizement and avarice.

God has given me many crutches to help this staggering journey of mine here. I am thankful for all of that. "роЖройாро▓் роиிроЪ்роЪропрооாро╡ே роЗрой்ройிроЪை роороЯ்роЯுроо் роЗро▓்ро▓ைропெрой்ро▒ாро▓் роОрой்ро▒ோ роОрой்ро▒ோ роОрой்ро▒ோ роЗро▒рои்родிро░ுрок்рокேрой்". For a person who was never able to deal with loneliness, one of the reasons I married at 25, I value these crutches greatly. I appreciate their meaning. I revel in their use. Through a medium like this I recommend their use to others. роЪிро▓ роиேро░роЩ்роХро│ிро▓் роиாройே ропாроЪிроХ்роХிро▒ேрой், роиாройே ро╡ாроЪிроХ்роХிро▒ேрой், ропாроЪிрод்родродை ро╡ாроЪிроХ்роХிро▒ேрой், ро╡ாроЪிрод்родродை ропாроЪிроХ்роХிро▒ேрой். роЪிро▓ роиேро░роЩ்роХро│ிро▓் роЪிро▓ рооройிродро░்роХро│்рой்ройு роЗродைрод் родாрой் роЪொро▓்ро▒ாроЩ்роХ рокோро▓.

I am recording these emotions, more like a journal for me. When I come out of this phase and read them, they might sound silly, as it might to present readers, who are not into this inebriation. But atleast they would remind me of a person who would well out with tears at the slightest provocation.

"роЕрои்родроХ் роХுро┤ро▓ைрок் рокோро▓் роЕро┤ுро╡родро▒்роХு роЕрод்родройை роХрог்роХро│் роОройроХ்роХிро▓்ро▓ைропே"

Thursday, November 26, 2009

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

If you hate Simon Cowell, you will love this video and everything that ensues afterwards in Susan Boyle's life. Susan Boyle is a real-life testimony, a modern-day equivalent of David versus Goliath, only this time, the Goliath is society itself.

I have titled this post with a URL because this video set an online record for the most number of views in about 20 websites, crossing 100 million views long, long ago. In YouTube alone, as you see it has crossed 79 million views.

Simon Cowell embodies everything that is of this modern world - a crass businessman, crazy television personality, never missing an opportunity to sell television space. Susan Boyle on the other hand is a SIMPLE woman, just like you and me, with a dream - which she believed to be true. Susan Boyle's page on the Wikipedia makes up for very interesting reading, if you could find the time to read it.

The uniqueness of this video is the full range of emotions it presents from viewer chagrin to viewer ovation all in few minutes within few minutes. At 2:02 in the video you feel a hair-raising experience - because obviously we all find ourselves in the underdog's position. Don't we? Susan is a catharsis of our misgivings at our unfulfilled dreams. Susan's victory is our victory over the world, at least theatrically. That she achieves it so vividly makes the video all the more special and makes me cry every time I see it.

I am of course loaded with a well of emotions during my stay here in London, especially away from my family. Others reading this may not feel as empathetic as me. To be honest, I myself have had minuscule experiences of overturning people's reactions, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the worse. Susan's success raises a range of philosophical questions. Particularly in a world where if you are talented you gotta be attractive, or else you have a hard chance all through the ladder. That Susan achieved this feat right in the midst of the boiling furnace of reality TV where beauty alone sells - is a mockery, a rude awakening to a world long lost in the obsession of the perfect 'O'.

To be honest, I am not even particularly amused by the song itself, not even about Susan's singing prowess. It is the lessons which come from an unusual place called Reality television which unsettles me along with the 100 million viewers. The marketers think they have concocted the formula to success and suddenly a Susan Boyle appears and shakes them from the very foundation.

Unfortunately, when Susan Boyle released her d├йbut album last week, creating Amazon.com pre-sales records, they had a photo shoot of her in dresses which looked so misfitting on her. Presumably television did not and does not want to learn hard lessons. But we will.

We will never judge people on their appearance. I count myself blessed and lucky that some woman in this world made a brave, scary, foolhardy but voluntary decision to fall in love with me. I do not know how I would have faired in the arranged-marriage market, where the audience are gaping and howling like those in the Britain's God Talent show. At least at one point in time, somebody in my life made a decision not to go by physical appearance, but something else.

This video on the one hand gives us a rewarding sense that maybe one day we would get our day like Susan Boyle and that's the cheesy feeling why it became so popular. But I ask myself the other obvious question. How many Susan Boyles are WE missing in our everyday life when we sit as Simon Cowell and the audience?

Thursday, November 12, 2009

ро╡ிро┤ிроХро│ிрой் роЕро░ுроХிройிро▓் ро╡ாройроо்

I fell in love with this song like mad. I believe true literature makes you fall in love with the language. This song succeeded in doing that to me. When I was doing a haphazard search for the lyrics of this song in the net, I couldnt find it in родрооிро┤். Infact, I found there are very few websites which can give you Tamil lyrics in родрооிро┤். Which is kind of an irony. So I thought I will contribute to the song and the language which it drew me to. But because it is my blog, I have added some (unwanted) commentary, throughout the song. I wrote them as I was listening to the song. So it would make sense and be less irksome, when you read the lines as you listen to the song. ( this might help http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1B6NG6pn2fM ) I dont have words to praise Ramesh Vinayagam. This fellow after writing such ethereal lyrics, has sung the song, composing the music for it enroute. Some people are just lavishly talented - and strangely not recognised that much!! Truly one of those rare instances in modern родрооிро┤் cinema where scintillating words meet scintillating music. The video also is not too bad, so a triple coincidence of brilliance, enjoy!!

ро╡ிро┤ிроХро│ிрой் роЕро░ுроХிройிро▓் ро╡ாройроо்
ро╡ெроХு родொро▓ைро╡ிройிро▓் родொро▓ைро╡ிройிро▓் родூроХ்роХроо்
роЗродு роРрои்родு рокுро▓рой்роХро│ிрой் роПроХ்роХроо் (my personal favourite line)
роОрой் рооுродро▓் рооுродро▓் роЕройுрокро╡роо் oh yeah

роТро▓ிропிрой்ро▒ி роЙродроЯுроХро│் рокேроЪுроо்
рокெро░ுроо் рокுропро▓ெрой ро╡ெро│ிро╡ро░ுроо் роЪுро╡ாроЪроо்
роТро░ு роЪுро╡роЯிрой்ро▒ி роироЯрои்родிроЯுроо் рокாродроо்
роЗродு роЕродிроЪроп роЕройுрокро╡роо் oh yeah

рокெрог்рогை роЪрои்родிрод்родேрой்
роЕро╡ро│் роироЯ்рокை ропாроЪிрод்родேрой் (more favourite lines)
роЕро╡ро│் рокрог்рокை роиேроЪிрод்родேрой்
ро╡ேро▒ெрой்рой роиாрой் роЪொро▓்ро▓ oh yeah (these oh yeahs actually give a lilting blend in the midst of beautiful родрооிро┤் words. I love it)

рокூ рокோрой்ро▒ роХрой்ройிрод் родேрой்
роЕро╡ро│் рокேро░் роЪொро▓்ро▓ி родிрод்родேрой்
роЕродு роПрой் роОрой்ро▒ு ропோроЪிрод்родேрой்
роЕроЯ роиாрой் роОроЩ்роХு роЪுро╡ாроЪிрод்родேрой்? (what a word play, ро╡ாро░்род்родை ро╡ிро│ைропாроЯ்роЯு, роЗро░роЪிроХ்роХрогுроо் ропா)

роХாродோроЯு рооௌройроЩ்роХро│்
роЗроЪை ро╡ாро░்роХ்роХிрой்ро▒ роиேро░роЩ்роХро│்
рокроЪி роиீро░் родூроХ்роХроо் роЗро▓்ро▓ாрооро▓்
роЙропிро░் ро╡ாро┤்роХிрой்ро▒ рооாропроЩ்роХро│்

роЕро▓ை роХроЯро▓ாроп்

роЗро░ுрои்род рооройроо்
родுро│ி родுро│ிропாроп்

роЪிродро▒ிропродே (You SHould see the picturisation for this scene!)
роРроо்рокுро▓ройுроо்

роОрой் рооройрооுроо்
роОройроХ்роХெродிро░ாроп்

роЪெропро▓்рокроЯுродே

роЗройி роХாрог рооுроЯிропாрод рооாро▒்ро▒роо்
роЕродை рооூроЯி рооро▒ைроХ்роХிрой்ро▒ родோро▒்ро▒роо்
роТро░ு рооௌройрок்рокுропро▓் ро╡ீроЪுродே
роЕродிро▓் рооройроо் родроЯ்роЯு родроЯுрооாро▒ுрооோ yeah (yeah really, very very true!)

рокро▓்ро▓ро╡ி:
рокூро╡ிро▓் роОрой்рой рокுрод்родроо் рокுродு ро╡ாроЪроо்
(рокூро╡ிро▓் роОрой்рой рокுрод்родроо் рокுродு ро╡ாроЪроо்)
родெрой்ро▒ро▓் роХூроЯ роЪроЩ்роХீродрооாроп் ро╡ீроЪுроо்
(родெрой்ро▒ро▓் роХூроЯ роЪроЩ்роХீродрооாроп் ро╡ீроЪுроо்)

роПродோ ро╡рои்родு рокрой்ройீро░் рооро┤ை родூро╡ுроо்
( роПродோ ро╡рои்родு рокрой்ройீро░் рооро┤ை родூро╡ுроо்)
ропாро░ோ роЗрой்ро▒ு роОроЩ்роХோ рооройроо் родேроЯுроо் (the only line I felt jumbled)
(ропாро░ோ роЗрой்ро▒ு роОроЩ்роХோ рооройроо் родேроЯுроо் )

роХேроЯ்роХாрод роУроЪைроХро│்
роЗродро┤் родாрог்роЯாрод ро╡ாро░்род்родைроХро│் (роОрок்рокроЯி роЯா роЗрок்рокроЯி роОро▓்ро▓ாроо் роОро┤ுродுро▒ீроЩ்роХ!!)
роЗрооை роЖроЯாрод рокாро░்ро╡ைроХро│்
роЗро╡ை роиாрой் роХொрог்роЯ рооாро▒்ро▒роЩ்роХро│்

роЪொро▓் роОрой்ройுроо் роТро░் роиெроЮ்роЪроо் (роЯேроп் роЙродிрод் роиாро░ாропрогா родрооிро┤ роОрок்рокроЯி роЙроЪ்роЪро░ிроХ்роХройுроо்ройு роЗро╡рой் роХிроЯ்роЯ роХрод்родுроХ்роХோ)
роОрой்ройை роиிро▓் роОрой்ройுроо் роТро░் роиெроЮ்роЪроо்
роОродிро░்рок் рокாро░்роХ்роХாрооро▓் роОрой் ро╡ாро┤்ро╡ிро▓்
роТро░ு рокோро░்роХ்роХாро▓роо் роЖро░роо்рокроо்

роЗро░ுродропрооே родுроЯிроХ்роХிро▒родா?
родுроЯிрок்рокродு рокோро▓் роироЯிроХ்роХிро▒родா? (роХொро▓்ро▒ роЯா)
родொро▓ைрод்родிроЯро╡ா рооро▒ைрод்родிроЯро╡ா?
роЗро░роХроЪிропрооாроп் родро╡ிрод்родிроЯро╡ா?

роТро░ு рокெрог்рогிрой் роиிройைро╡ெрой்рой роЪெроп்ропுроо்?
роОройை роХрод்родி роЗро▓்ро▓ாрооро▓் роХொроп்ропுроо் (I dont know if he has purposely used роХொроп்ропுроо் for rhythm instead of the usual expected роХொро▓்ро▓ுроо்)
роЗродிро▓் рооீро│ ро╡ро┤ி роЙро│்ро│родே
роЗро░ுрок்рокிройுроо் роЙро│்ро│роо் ро╡ிро░ுроо்рокாродு oh yeah (роиிроЬрооாро╡ே роиாрой் роЗрок்рок родрооிро┤ рокроЯிроХ்роХро▓,роХேроХ்роХро▓ - роХுроЯிроХ்роХிро▒ேрой்!!!)

ро╡ிро┤ிроХро│ிрой் роЕро░ுроХிройிро▓் ро╡ாройроо்
ро╡ெроХு родொро▓ைро╡ிройிро▓் родொро▓ைро╡ிройிро▓் родூроХ்роХроо்
роЗродு роРрои்родு рокுро▓рой்роХро│ிрой் роПроХ்роХроо் (роЗрок்рок рокாро░்род்родு роОрой் рокொрог்роЯாроЯ்роЯி роОрой் роХூроЯ роЗро▓்ро▓)
роОрой் рооுродро▓் рооுродро▓் роЕройுрокро╡роо் oh yeah...

роТро▓ிропிрой்ро▒ி роЙродроЯுроХро│் рокேроЪுроо்
рокெро░ுроо் рокுропро▓ெрой ро╡ெро│ிро╡ро░ுроо் роЪுро╡ாроЪроо்
роТро░ு роЪுро╡роЯிрой்ро▒ி роироЯрои்родிроЯுроо் рокாродроо்
роЗродு роЕродிроЪроп роЕройுрокро╡роо் oh yeah

рокெрог்рогை роЪрои்родிрод்родேрой்
роЕро╡ро│் роироЯ்рокை ропாроЪிрод்родேрой்
роЕро╡ро│் рокрог்рокை роиேроЪிрод்родேрой்
ро╡ேро▒ெрой்рой роиாрой் роЪொро▓்ро▓ oh yeah

роРрои்родு рокுро▓рой்роХро│ுроо் роОрой் рооройрооுроо் роЪрои்родிроХ்роХрод் родுроЯிроХ்роХுроо் роОрой் рокொрог்роЯாроЯ்роЯி роОрой் рокிро│்ро│ைроХ்роХாроХ роЪрооро░்рок்рокிроХ்роХிро▒ேрой்....

I am almost immersed in this song, partly gone neurotic, fully intoxicated. роЗродிро▓் рооீро│ ро╡ро┤ி роЙро│்ро│родு, роЖройாро▓் рооройроо் ро╡ிро░ுроо்рокро╡ிро▓்ро▓ை.