I was just getting used to writing the date right too.
Sigh. Life seems to teach you a lot of lessons. Like how a year is over before it really began. Or rather, everything begins later than it should. Except classes, they start too early. 10.30 is unholy, I tell you.
The year is past, and it's been a good year. I'm pretty sorry it has to go, actually. We could have been friends, best buddies. I learned a lot from Oh-Nine, and she gave me some of the best moments of my life. Thus far. But she moves on, seemingly disinterested in my sorrow, for the last few days have gone faster than the ones before, faster than those before them, in some sort of evil, orchestrated and ineffable mathematical equation that pits me versus divine geometric progression.
The satisfaction from this year is, well, enormous. I wrote more. I designed more. I was a better friend, and a better person. I helped give one HELL of a birthday. I had this amazing, reserved yet fun team working with me during Festember, and this absolutely lunatic bunch of committed souls I reported to. I actually used sun-lab a lot more, and blogged. I got myself into some semblance of shape, and it felt awesome. My writing got better, to my eyes at least, to a point where I would finish a particularly inspired poem or post, then keep checking if it was still there, or I was dreaming it.
The spoilsport, of course, is that I end the year without some people who I started it with. Like Bear, Ani, Monty, Asish and the like. It took some time to get used to not seeing these crazy seniors in campus, but the junior batch more than made up for that. Crazy bunch, I tell you! Teaches you a lesson, that. Life is a network problem - The total inflow always equals outflow.
Did I mention I had Operations Research this year?
I attended my first interviews, my first GD's, my first written test and my first mock-CAT. I also experienced a few completely baffling situations where, had I looked up at the skies, I would have seen the stars arranging themselves in a manner that would have been conspicuously similar to, "T-A-K-E-T-H-A-T-!-O-W-N-E-D-!". But alas, as irony would have it, my eyes were downcast and that particular phenomenon will forever he consigned to the dustbin of fantasy. As I read somewhere else today, there were forever many slips, between the cup, the lip, and that final, divine sip.
An aside, I also figured out the time it takes to run 500m with bad sandals and loose jeans, and the exact aerodynamic disadvantages of having a long, capacious bag when a smaller sling would do. I also found that however much you run and jog and jump and crunch, some things in life still take your breath away.
For reasons mentioned and for those that currently cannot be, Oh-Nine was a great friend. The end of a year always contrasts with our diurnal tendency to proceed, progress, grasp, move ahead. We cling to the year past, because it was good to us, and because it doesn't care enough to wait for us. Typically human. But the Law of things, that intangible web that seems to puppeteer us into alternatively scratching our foreheads and clapping our hands, that measly rendering of the essence of the divine plan... it seems to suggest that as the days get shorter, the days get better, and quite inexplicably, life gets longer.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
The post of Christmas Present
Christmas Eve! Christmas Eve!
The din of jingles sound!
Wait socks of hues many
For a grandpa most rotund
He slides and creeps down a chimney
Dust off silt and soot
Ingests the gourmet cookie
As a cat licks at his boot
The sight of a saturnine feline
Would melt any frozen heart
His heart (warmer than mine or thine)
Now threatened to fall apart
He lifted the milk-glass to his lips
Yet his decision was already made
Soon milk dripped from whisker tips
Yep, Happiness was his trade
Dan, Dugh, Debby, Check Check Check
He ticks them off the list
At the bottom, though, there was a speck
"Whoa! Now what's this!"
A name though strange not bogus
A name not rote nor false
A name to baffle all of us
That name was Inlove Falls
The field named 'Yen' was empty
But empty is a malaprop
There were entries many
With as many strikes and chops
So Santa mused and pondered
He scratched his gelid beard
"Righto! Lets go meet him
And see what he has to be heard"
And thus that it transpired
On that snowy night
Rudolph worked overtime, but hey
This years our wallets are tight!
...
The din of jingles sound!
Wait socks of hues many
For a grandpa most rotund
He slides and creeps down a chimney
Dust off silt and soot
Ingests the gourmet cookie
As a cat licks at his boot
The sight of a saturnine feline
Would melt any frozen heart
His heart (warmer than mine or thine)
Now threatened to fall apart
He lifted the milk-glass to his lips
Yet his decision was already made
Soon milk dripped from whisker tips
Yep, Happiness was his trade
Dan, Dugh, Debby, Check Check Check
He ticks them off the list
At the bottom, though, there was a speck
"Whoa! Now what's this!"
A name though strange not bogus
A name not rote nor false
A name to baffle all of us
That name was Inlove Falls
The field named 'Yen' was empty
But empty is a malaprop
There were entries many
With as many strikes and chops
So Santa mused and pondered
He scratched his gelid beard
"Righto! Lets go meet him
And see what he has to be heard"
And thus that it transpired
On that snowy night
Rudolph worked overtime, but hey
This years our wallets are tight!
...
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I believe you call this, a Magnum Opus?
The movie Avatar has been hyped quite a bit., having been in the pipeline for half a decade, and titled the brainchild of one of Hollywood's favorites, James Cameron. The reviews promised 3D action, special effects and fantasy beyond all else. It is thus that I found myself on the sere and barren path to Satyam, with no small measure of expectation.
They promised a spectacle.
And boy, they delivered one. This movie is unlike anything you've ever seen before. The setting is something fantastic. Plants, animals and sentient forms come in all shapes, sizes and hues. The effects are cutting edge, avant-grade, sublime! Not for a minute is there a plastic or paper feel to anything that isn't plastic or paper, and trust me, you don't find many of those on Pandora. In all, the movie is a looker. This is one of those once-in-a-generation blockbusters, a spike on the radar of movie-goers and a throwback to the age (yes, it is that long back) when movies dazzled, dazed and promptly dumped us back in reality as the credits rolled. In effect, you should watch this movie.
But that aside... this isn't advertised as a spectacle but as a movie. And it is painfully obvious that the movie is but a side-effect of a dream. Left to him, the director would gladly have made a documentary of the ways of the Na'vi and the splendor of Pandora. But you can't market documentaries, nor can you justify such a price tag for them. In short, the story of Avatar is average, trite even. Any fantasy genre fan can make up this story in a snap. The story moves at a good pace, has the required ups and downs, but despite a surprise here and there about the timing of events that are inevitable, the broad plot is pretty much the same.
The most important part of fantasy, as JRR Tolkien's works attest, is history. Intrigue. The knowledge that the movie is only part of a greater scheme of things, shadowy, mysterious things. But while the movie is long for an English one, (almost 2.5 hours), the history of the species is never alluded to but once, maybe twice. The next most important is dialogue. To have an alien tongue is one thing, but to make 'realism' impede emotion is another. While it was eerie to hear the hisses and snarls in the beginning as subtitles jumped out, I just felt the dialogue too tame. Definitely a weak link there... Even, the parts of dialogue that were in English were, lets say, just not momentous enough.
The political allusions were entertaining. Was I the only one, or was the talk about how we fried our mother-god a direct reference to global warming. Also, Uncle Sam was pulled into the fray with the pithy line, "You're not the only one with Guns, B***H", as well as, "Let us show them that they cannot have all that they want!" Of course, this could apply to any reigning and faulting military power, but it definitely is more conspirational thinking the US was in the crossfire.
The 3D was something of a disappointment. It was almost completely absent in the latter part of the movie, and only figured in passive scenes. My expectation of in-your-face action was sadly unfounded. But again, the part that was in 3D, was amazing. The floating-people scene rightin the beginning is probably the best shot, 3D wise.
Succinctly, watch this movie. Because you would be missing an experience. Just don't expect to watch a film-making marvel, but to experience a film-maker's dream. Yet, like Jack muses, "We have to wake up sometime."
Personally, I would LOVE to see a series of books set in Pandora. Let us hope!
They promised a spectacle.
And boy, they delivered one. This movie is unlike anything you've ever seen before. The setting is something fantastic. Plants, animals and sentient forms come in all shapes, sizes and hues. The effects are cutting edge, avant-grade, sublime! Not for a minute is there a plastic or paper feel to anything that isn't plastic or paper, and trust me, you don't find many of those on Pandora. In all, the movie is a looker. This is one of those once-in-a-generation blockbusters, a spike on the radar of movie-goers and a throwback to the age (yes, it is that long back) when movies dazzled, dazed and promptly dumped us back in reality as the credits rolled. In effect, you should watch this movie.
But that aside... this isn't advertised as a spectacle but as a movie. And it is painfully obvious that the movie is but a side-effect of a dream. Left to him, the director would gladly have made a documentary of the ways of the Na'vi and the splendor of Pandora. But you can't market documentaries, nor can you justify such a price tag for them. In short, the story of Avatar is average, trite even. Any fantasy genre fan can make up this story in a snap. The story moves at a good pace, has the required ups and downs, but despite a surprise here and there about the timing of events that are inevitable, the broad plot is pretty much the same.
The most important part of fantasy, as JRR Tolkien's works attest, is history. Intrigue. The knowledge that the movie is only part of a greater scheme of things, shadowy, mysterious things. But while the movie is long for an English one, (almost 2.5 hours), the history of the species is never alluded to but once, maybe twice. The next most important is dialogue. To have an alien tongue is one thing, but to make 'realism' impede emotion is another. While it was eerie to hear the hisses and snarls in the beginning as subtitles jumped out, I just felt the dialogue too tame. Definitely a weak link there... Even, the parts of dialogue that were in English were, lets say, just not momentous enough.
The political allusions were entertaining. Was I the only one, or was the talk about how we fried our mother-god a direct reference to global warming. Also, Uncle Sam was pulled into the fray with the pithy line, "You're not the only one with Guns, B***H", as well as, "Let us show them that they cannot have all that they want!" Of course, this could apply to any reigning and faulting military power, but it definitely is more conspirational thinking the US was in the crossfire.
The 3D was something of a disappointment. It was almost completely absent in the latter part of the movie, and only figured in passive scenes. My expectation of in-your-face action was sadly unfounded. But again, the part that was in 3D, was amazing. The floating-people scene rightin the beginning is probably the best shot, 3D wise.
Succinctly, watch this movie. Because you would be missing an experience. Just don't expect to watch a film-making marvel, but to experience a film-maker's dream. Yet, like Jack muses, "We have to wake up sometime."
Personally, I would LOVE to see a series of books set in Pandora. Let us hope!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
The.
This is my 50th post on this blog.
I've come a long way I guess... to look back on the first few posts is a rather painful realization that despite my best efforts, I have grown up. There is a touch of disdain in humor, where there was carefree ruckus. There is an attempt at class, where before there was unbridled joy. There are poems where before there were alter-egos, and there is sentiment where before there was none.
But some things remain the same. There is still that passion to write, to express, and to, above all else, entertain! A small speck of responsibility towards invisible, quiet yet completely real readers - family, friends and the occasional stumbler. But thankfully, there also is a sense of tedium associated with the passion, which acknowledges the effort to log on from the throes of rusticity and hence prevents long, post-less blackouts like those so frequently seen before.
I thought it would be a good idea to dedicate this post to my readers. Yes, even the ones that don't comment, because it feels good to hear people say "I read your Blog", and even better to say, "Oh yeah, I know you love food. It's on your blog!" or something similar.
I also thought it would be good to dedicate this, specifically, to one reader. Who makes it a point to get the blog address, read every post, trudge through long-winded speech and abstract nonsense which he doesn't like, guffaw at all attempts of humor proudly, and promptly forget the address before the next post. Oh, and he was born somewhere around this time, around half a century back. Thank you Appa! :)
The story of the article heading. Well, apart from being deadly and mysterious, it's an experiment. Blogger cuts off the 'The' in the blog title (The Hunt becomes Hunt, for eg.), so I wanted to know how it would save this post.
Note that the blog posts add up to 48 right now. Thats because I have two posts, in drafts, that I wrote and never published. Both are completely context-based, so there's no point putting them up now. Take my word for it, they're not controversial and I didn't chicken out :)
I've come a long way I guess... to look back on the first few posts is a rather painful realization that despite my best efforts, I have grown up. There is a touch of disdain in humor, where there was carefree ruckus. There is an attempt at class, where before there was unbridled joy. There are poems where before there were alter-egos, and there is sentiment where before there was none.
But some things remain the same. There is still that passion to write, to express, and to, above all else, entertain! A small speck of responsibility towards invisible, quiet yet completely real readers - family, friends and the occasional stumbler. But thankfully, there also is a sense of tedium associated with the passion, which acknowledges the effort to log on from the throes of rusticity and hence prevents long, post-less blackouts like those so frequently seen before.
I thought it would be a good idea to dedicate this post to my readers. Yes, even the ones that don't comment, because it feels good to hear people say "I read your Blog", and even better to say, "Oh yeah, I know you love food. It's on your blog!" or something similar.
I also thought it would be good to dedicate this, specifically, to one reader. Who makes it a point to get the blog address, read every post, trudge through long-winded speech and abstract nonsense which he doesn't like, guffaw at all attempts of humor proudly, and promptly forget the address before the next post. Oh, and he was born somewhere around this time, around half a century back. Thank you Appa! :)
The story of the article heading. Well, apart from being deadly and mysterious, it's an experiment. Blogger cuts off the 'The' in the blog title (The Hunt becomes Hunt, for eg.), so I wanted to know how it would save this post.
Note that the blog posts add up to 48 right now. Thats because I have two posts, in drafts, that I wrote and never published. Both are completely context-based, so there's no point putting them up now. Take my word for it, they're not controversial and I didn't chicken out :)
Sunday, December 20, 2009
The hunt.
I went to a Vijay movie today.
I really think, we've got him wrong. I mean, all we people who look at his movies like they're third grade nonsense. I really, truly think that the guy has talent. As in... some of his scenes... the walk... the towel-like thing around his neck, the choice of costume.... At some points, I was like, "Dude! This is almost a Rajini movie!".
At most other points in time, I was awake, and the nightmare was still unfolding.
People rarely ever review a Vijay movie because, well, you can't really talk about the story. These literary types, they like circumlocution. They these wordy, prolix articles that show off their vocabulary. Trust me on this one. So anyway, lets see what an average review would be.
Start Review
The movie was terrible.The heroine's dresses were shorter than this article.
End Review
But I shall be brave. I shall dare to do what no reviewer has done, go where no review has gone before. I shall try to think from the other side of the prism. The side where hordes of citizens crown him as the next superstar, where kids grow up to Dandanakara beats, where girls are taught to fall, fantasize and subsequently wed the most macho guy on the road. Who also helps old people cross the road, directs traffic, beats up Baddies and as a special holiday offer, comes toilet trained. I'm gonna write a favorable review for "Vettaikaaran".
Of course, I was just kidding.
The movie was terrible. It wasn't crude, just terrible. It wasn't amateurish, just terrible. It wasn't boring. Just. Plain. Terrible.
Highlights:
Do..Do...Do your Worst da.... naaaaaaaaaye!
I really think, we've got him wrong. I mean, all we people who look at his movies like they're third grade nonsense. I really, truly think that the guy has talent. As in... some of his scenes... the walk... the towel-like thing around his neck, the choice of costume.... At some points, I was like, "Dude! This is almost a Rajini movie!".
At most other points in time, I was awake, and the nightmare was still unfolding.
People rarely ever review a Vijay movie because, well, you can't really talk about the story. These literary types, they like circumlocution. They these wordy, prolix articles that show off their vocabulary. Trust me on this one. So anyway, lets see what an average review would be.
Start Review
The movie was terrible.
End Review
But I shall be brave. I shall dare to do what no reviewer has done, go where no review has gone before. I shall try to think from the other side of the prism. The side where hordes of citizens crown him as the next superstar, where kids grow up to Dandanakara beats, where girls are taught to fall, fantasize and subsequently wed the most macho guy on the road. Who also helps old people cross the road, directs traffic, beats up Baddies and as a special holiday offer, comes toilet trained. I'm gonna write a favorable review for "Vettaikaaran".
Of course, I was just kidding.
The movie was terrible. It wasn't crude, just terrible. It wasn't amateurish, just terrible. It wasn't boring. Just. Plain. Terrible.
Highlights:
- Everyone in the movie stammers. I can imagine them teaching their kids the alphabet. A..A...A...A for... Aaaaple! B...B...B...B for... Boooomb da! C...C for Come and get your ass kicked machan!
- The heroine is like this tall, curvy, mannequin. She looks beautiful in some scenes, and terrible in others. The make-up people went berserk and gave her all 'looks' humanly possible. Poor thing... since she won't do another movie, might as well have fun in this one.
- The heroine is from Alaska. So forgive her if she doesn't cover up.
- Tamil Nadu hates Chemistry. I have company. How else would you describe this exchange when the hero inhales alcohol, lights a fire, blows, and sets the villian on fire. "Sir... He is no ordinary man... he is... he is something else!" You
*BEEP*, he paid attention to chemistry class and you didn't! - When it ended.
Do..Do...Do your Worst da.... naaaaaaaaaye!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Lets spice things up a bit...
How meretricious this must seem to you
You, of beauty, of inveterate light!
The cloying harps of an obsequious tune
Feeble courtiers in black and white
Most poems, they espouse mendacity
Where frizzy barbs are tousled manes
One about you, in modest veracity
Would put them all to misery and shame
Pray tell me! Milady! Speak now!
'ere long this obstreperous heart will burst
Break your obdurate vow right now!
These furtive glances sate no mortal's thirst
Speak, milady! Speak now!
I have run out of words abstruse
Turn that upturned nose to the ground
Can we now declare a truce?
You, of beauty, of inveterate light!
The cloying harps of an obsequious tune
Feeble courtiers in black and white
Most poems, they espouse mendacity
Where frizzy barbs are tousled manes
One about you, in modest veracity
Would put them all to misery and shame
Pray tell me! Milady! Speak now!
'ere long this obstreperous heart will burst
Break your obdurate vow right now!
These furtive glances sate no mortal's thirst
Speak, milady! Speak now!
I have run out of words abstruse
Turn that upturned nose to the ground
Can we now declare a truce?
Well... maybe a little romance is what will do the trick. Our foolish knight has obviously done something typical and foolish, so the fair maiden says, and I quote, "Hmph!" and leaves, turning her nose to the skies. Our knight, though well meaning and romantic, is inarticulate. Luckily for him, there happens to be a thick book with an aura of iridescent hues right on the table. Opening the curiously titled 'Barrons', he picks out a few words at random, and garbles them in a pleasant meter, in the hopes of cheering up the fickle minded young lady. I leave it to you to determine the answer to that knightly proposition.
Before you get ideas, the role of yours truly is strictly of a bard. Galloping around on horses wearing metal underwear while wooing asphyxiated (and as a consequence) buxom babes never has appealed (or even occurred) to me.
Before you get ideas, the role of yours truly is strictly of a bard. Galloping around on horses wearing metal underwear while wooing asphyxiated (and as a consequence) buxom babes never has appealed (or even occurred) to me.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
A matter of great Import...
To what shall I this sibling impute
Second in the family of rhyme
The first child to many ears seems cute
The younger a waste of time?
Ah! But the Book has me indentured!
The hour unsuited to put up fight.
But please, spare me your unkind censure
It is for need that I indite.
I am, veritably, in the house of I
Where Insularity seems to play with me
Too big this place for my narrow grasp,
I am too long interloping! Help me flee!
Today, Creativity gambols with Intransigence
While Inimical is herself to me
I could perhaps for your dint indemnify?
Are you free for coffee?
Second in the family of rhyme
The first child to many ears seems cute
The younger a waste of time?
Ah! But the Book has me indentured!
The hour unsuited to put up fight.
But please, spare me your unkind censure
It is for need that I indite.
I am, veritably, in the house of I
Where Insularity seems to play with me
Too big this place for my narrow grasp,
I am too long interloping! Help me flee!
Today, Creativity gambols with Intransigence
While Inimical is herself to me
I could perhaps for your dint indemnify?
Are you free for coffee?
Okay... first off, sorry.
Second... I'm desperate... Clearly
Third... the theme of this one is how the words in 'I' are a bit too tough for me to digest. Ergo, this second in hopefully a short series of poems... And though you people really should blame Barron's for doing this to me, I understand it IS a bit less creative than usual, so I'm more than happy to make it up to you. Coffee? :)
Second... I'm desperate... Clearly
Third... the theme of this one is how the words in 'I' are a bit too tough for me to digest. Ergo, this second in hopefully a short series of poems... And though you people really should blame Barron's for doing this to me, I understand it IS a bit less creative than usual, so I'm more than happy to make it up to you. Coffee? :)
Saturday, December 12, 2009
A Bohemian Rhapsody...
"Pray tell me, what's an idiosyncracy"
"Something, in quotes, "Typically Me!"
Swallowing oil from the Eucalyptus tree,
Excessive use of a single Smiley,
Or, (As dad calls it)
Going through a day, duty-free!
These words are lovely, dark and deep."
"No! They make me barf and weep!
I'll do this on the morrow, I want to go sleep..."
"Don't delay, hup to it, on your feet!
Lugubrious swine! Or the rewards you'll reap
Of Procrastination, insolent *beep*!"
Elysian are words to some of us,
Elegiac perhaps, for the boisterous
(Who, by the way, are cantankerous
In majority, loud, and popular thus)
Yet the rules are lain, stop all this fuss!
And I too, before I whimsically digress
Will practice a word I learned today
And Egress.
"Something, in quotes, "Typically Me!"
Swallowing oil from the Eucalyptus tree,
Excessive use of a single Smiley,
Or, (As dad calls it)
Going through a day, duty-free!
These words are lovely, dark and deep."
"No! They make me barf and weep!
I'll do this on the morrow, I want to go sleep..."
"Don't delay, hup to it, on your feet!
Lugubrious swine! Or the rewards you'll reap
Of Procrastination, insolent *beep*
Elysian are words to some of us,
Elegiac perhaps, for the boisterous
(Who, by the way, are cantankerous
In majority, loud, and popular thus)
Yet the rules are lain, stop all this fuss!
And I too, before I whimsically digress
Will practice a word I learned today
And Egress.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The "State" of affairs in popular media...
I had taken a conscious decision, after "3 mistakes of my life", to not make a mistake of my own, and stay off Chetan Bhagat. As revealing as 5-Point someone was, and the veritable starting point of a flood of IIT/IIM centered books, it was only going downhill form there. Even God couldn't save "One night @..." and "3 Mistakes" was surely one one them... Yet, when stuck in the TamilNadu express (whose pantry, incidentally, has deteriorated) with 15 people playing ' Mafia', you don't have the privilege of being fussy over popular literature. So it came to be, my second innings with India's not-so-modestly-self-styled "Most loved Author".
"2-States, a story of my marriage" is a not-so shy account of the author's marriage. The author is an average Joe @ IIM-A, and a chance meeting with a beautiful girl leads to an unsteady friendship always on the brink of romance, which is where it leads. One-and-a-half years and numerous sleepovers later, the couple decide to break the news to their Loud, Greedy Punjabi and Prudish, Conservative TamBrahm parents. Thats the Groom and Bride sides respecitvely... Obviously, they don't exact;l hit it off, and the rest of the story foucses on the Guy wooing the girl's family (quite literally) and vice versa. Throw in a mystic Guruji, a callous psychiatrist and a ton of Tamil/Punjabi stereotypes, and you've got a hit.
The book was entertaining, and I admit that besides the circumstances, it held my attention of two hours straight. However, the setting is disturbing. The author, as is his usual style, presents it as a fictional take on real life events. Which, i presume, is to soothe the ruffled feathers of certain family members.
However, I find it disturbing that rudeness and downright mockery of a caste or a practice is the way to India's heart. Include here the 'humor' depicted in numerous Tamil and Hindi movies, and the provokative attacks of various politicians playing vote-bank ballot master. 2-States is a case in study. The only truly gut-wrenching parts of the novel were the accounts of the Dad-Mum violence, and the protagonist pining away towards the end. The rest, to me, felt like calculated exaggeration (which is what the author admits to in his prolugue) fashioned to appeal to a majority of people unaccustomed to neither Punjabi nor TamBrahms. Lofty ideas of 'National Integration' served only to deepen my skepticism... I seriously doubt if Afterglow manifests itself as Patriotism, and please don't get me started on the idiocy of the epilogue.
Maybe I'm biased, but I felt that Tamilians in general were dealt a very bad hand. The author's progeniture no doubt blinds him to certain quirks of his own state. While you have unscrupulous auto drivers, the chaos in North-Indian trains finds no mention. While you have the Tamil obsession with education and conservatism, it is forgotten that '5-Pt Someone' was not an extraordinary piece of literature, but merely an insight into India's biggest obsession, IIT. Repeated references to Dark, Ugly madrasis were overkill - having established the jaundice in Northern Eyes, the author could have let it rest. Throw in "Dr.Iyer" who laughs at her patient and prescribes pills disintrestedly, and the non-veg eating, beer drinking Ananya, born into the 'purest of pure upper castes'.
The only sins of his punjabi family were gossip and dowry. Both, again, were alluded to when dealing with TamBrahms.
Mr. Bhaghat, realize that your idealism is misplaced. If indeed your aim was to reduce the regionalisms in India today, you have failed terribly. I can assure you that a majority of the people will enjoy this book only because it reinforces their stereotypes of stuck up, Tamil, Brahmins (yes, Tamil as an adjective) and overbearing, fat Punjabis.
On a side note, I've realised really how close Chennai is to me. Ten days away from home and this book. Need i say more?
"2-States, a story of my marriage" is a not-so shy account of the author's marriage. The author is an average Joe @ IIM-A, and a chance meeting with a beautiful girl leads to an unsteady friendship always on the brink of romance, which is where it leads. One-and-a-half years and numerous sleepovers later, the couple decide to break the news to their Loud, Greedy Punjabi and Prudish, Conservative TamBrahm parents. Thats the Groom and Bride sides respecitvely... Obviously, they don't exact;l hit it off, and the rest of the story foucses on the Guy wooing the girl's family (quite literally) and vice versa. Throw in a mystic Guruji, a callous psychiatrist and a ton of Tamil/Punjabi stereotypes, and you've got a hit.
The book was entertaining, and I admit that besides the circumstances, it held my attention of two hours straight. However, the setting is disturbing. The author, as is his usual style, presents it as a fictional take on real life events. Which, i presume, is to soothe the ruffled feathers of certain family members.
However, I find it disturbing that rudeness and downright mockery of a caste or a practice is the way to India's heart. Include here the 'humor' depicted in numerous Tamil and Hindi movies, and the provokative attacks of various politicians playing vote-bank ballot master. 2-States is a case in study. The only truly gut-wrenching parts of the novel were the accounts of the Dad-Mum violence, and the protagonist pining away towards the end. The rest, to me, felt like calculated exaggeration (which is what the author admits to in his prolugue) fashioned to appeal to a majority of people unaccustomed to neither Punjabi nor TamBrahms. Lofty ideas of 'National Integration' served only to deepen my skepticism... I seriously doubt if Afterglow manifests itself as Patriotism, and please don't get me started on the idiocy of the epilogue.
Maybe I'm biased, but I felt that Tamilians in general were dealt a very bad hand. The author's progeniture no doubt blinds him to certain quirks of his own state. While you have unscrupulous auto drivers, the chaos in North-Indian trains finds no mention. While you have the Tamil obsession with education and conservatism, it is forgotten that '5-Pt Someone' was not an extraordinary piece of literature, but merely an insight into India's biggest obsession, IIT. Repeated references to Dark, Ugly madrasis were overkill - having established the jaundice in Northern Eyes, the author could have let it rest. Throw in "Dr.Iyer" who laughs at her patient and prescribes pills disintrestedly, and the non-veg eating, beer drinking Ananya, born into the 'purest of pure upper castes'.
The only sins of his punjabi family were gossip and dowry. Both, again, were alluded to when dealing with TamBrahms.
Mr. Bhaghat, realize that your idealism is misplaced. If indeed your aim was to reduce the regionalisms in India today, you have failed terribly. I can assure you that a majority of the people will enjoy this book only because it reinforces their stereotypes of stuck up, Tamil, Brahmins (yes, Tamil as an adjective) and overbearing, fat Punjabis.
On a side note, I've realised really how close Chennai is to me. Ten days away from home and this book. Need i say more?
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