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.
Sunday, October 7, 2018
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. "உமது விரல்களின் கிரியையாகிய உம்முடைய வானங்களையும், நீர் ஸ்தாபித்த சந்திரனையும், நட்சத்திரங்களையும் நான் பார்க்கும்போது, மனுஷனை நீர் நினைக்கிறதற்கும், மனுஷகுமாரனை நீர் விசாரிக்கிறதற்கும் அவன் எம்மாத்திரம் என்கிறேன்". 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 
😉. 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.
😉. 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.
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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!!
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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.
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'!
*******
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!!
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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 clichéd 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.
Often people wonder about this clichéd 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.
Šara Šara Šaara Kathu Veesum Pøthum
Šir ah Paarthu Paesum Pøthum
Šara Paambu Pøla Nenju Šaththam Pøduthey..
When the cold wind blows and when I look at ‘Sir’ and talk
My heart thumps like a rattle snake
Ithu Ithu Ithu Pøna Nenju Thaika
Otha Paarva Paarthu Šella Møththa Šøtha
Èzhuthi Thaaraen Møøchu 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, Pøla Nee.. Ènna 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 Šamaikava?
Èlumbugal Kadikaiyil, Ènna Kønjam 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 Šøaru Rusikava, Šamacha Kaiya Kønjam Rasikava..
Mødakathan Rasam Vachi Madakathaan Paakuraen..
Retta Dhøsa Šuttu 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 Nøngu 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 Šaththama, 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 Èzhuthu Pødura Kanni Pønnu Maarbula..
You are signing your name on the breast of this virgin
Møønu Naala Paakala.. Oøril Èntha Pøøvum Pøøkala..
I haven’t see you for three days and no flower has bloomed in this place
Aatu Kallu Kuliyila Urangi Pøvøam Pøønayai..
Thanna Vanthu Parthuthan Kirangi Pørenya
Like a pussy cuddling inside a grinding stone
I come out, see you and swoon off
Meenuku Aengura Køkku Nee..
Køthavae Theriyala Makku Nee..
You are a crane longing for the fish
But you fool you don’t know how to peck..
Kaatu Malligai Pøøthirukuthu Kaathala Kaathala
Vanthu Vanthu Oadipøgum Vandukenna Kaachala..
Oh my love, the wild flower has blossomed
Is the bee sick from visiting this flower ever so often??
Šara Šara Šaara Kathu Veesum Pøthum
Šir ah Paarthu Paesum Pøthum
Šara Paambu Pøla Nenju Šaththam Pøduthey..
When the cold wind blows and when I look at ‘Sir’ and talk
My heart thumps like a rattle snake
Ithu Ithu Ithu Pøna Nenju Thaika
Otha Paarva Paarthu Šella Møththa Šøtha
Èzhuthi Thaaraen Møøchu 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, Pøla Nee.. Ènna 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 Šamaikava?
Èlumbugal Kadikaiyil, Ènna Kønjam 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 Šøaru Rusikava, Šamacha Kaiya Kønjam Rasikava..
Mødakathan Rasam Vachi Madakathaan Paakuraen..
Retta Dhøsa Šuttu 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 Nøngu 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 Šaththama, 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 Èzhuthu Pødura Kanni Pønnu Maarbula..
You are signing your name on the breast of this virgin
Møønu Naala Paakala.. Oøril Èntha Pøøvum Pøøkala..
I haven’t see you for three days and no flower has bloomed in this place
Aatu Kallu Kuliyila Urangi Pøvøam Pøønayai..
Thanna Vanthu Parthuthan Kirangi Pørenya
Like a pussy cuddling inside a grinding stone
I come out, see you and swoon off
Meenuku Aengura Køkku Nee..
Køthavae Theriyala Makku Nee..
You are a crane longing for the fish
But you fool you don’t know how to peck..
Kaatu Malligai Pøøthirukuthu Kaathala Kaathala
Vanthu Vanthu Oadipøgum 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.
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.
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