Listless & Ironic

1. Being stranded in the middle of a national highway by a team, who refused to listen to reason when I shout, panic, point at a share auto that is willing to take us to the mall. Them just strutting ahead, and me following senselessly. Running 300m across the highway, while the others walk 'coolly' across, pointing and laughing at the prude.
2. Being told that a share auto would ask 10 bucks to go to the mall 500m away, and thus not taking it makes sense.
3. Being mocked that my kids will have no fun in life, when I remonstrated.
   
4. Not having coffee at the mall because it is too expensive. Beside, we already had 100ml of premixed coffee at office an hour back.
5. Walking around listlessly at the mall. Picking up a basketball at the sports store and relishing the feel of it in my hands after 3.5 months. Tell myself, 10 days.
6. Trying on clothes at Westside. Looking for V-neck full sleeves that made me look like a gay, stocky and very well fed giant. Opting for a half sleeve. Taking pics wearing different clothes in the trial room. Flirting with a purple top a la Thejas, sense wins over adventurism.
   
7. Falling asleep in an auto with 15 other people, out of pure tiredness from waking at 6, coming office first and working (at least one guy has to) and leaving the last.
   
8. Coming back home, to shower, force food down my throat, and get ready for bed.
9. Power cut for an hour when my head touches the pillow. Inverter, which I am paying for, doesn't work for the floor I am put up in.
10. Dragging myself downstairs to sit in the 'common room' and doze off with my neck at an angle akin to modern geometric art.
11. Being told, the next morning, that complaining about this means I'm 'getting on his head' and I am being pampered, when heart patients are in the other room. You see, not only do you pay him double what the usual rate is, you also need to be critically ill to be considered.
    
12. Tolerating a blubbering, worthless, tactless and hypocritical landlord's outburst and subsequent 'make up' talk whose highlight is, "When you were in pain, I sat on the floor and cried". Resisting urge to suggest he is gay.
    
13. Realizing that the landlord has money I should be returned, which means I can't push it all too much.
14. Signing into FB, seeing "Goodbye Germany :(", "Leaving for hostel :(" and the like. Wondering if it would be nice to feel some attachment to the place I'm in.
15. Sigh.
    

Edit: You! And You! Hope you're both happy now!!! :)

Not the best experience, by far....

After giving dear Gurgaon a fair run for 2 whole months, with forced optimism and the like, I've finally realized that however I look at it, this is not going to be one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Originally, I believed that once work took off, everything would fall in place. Then I realized, this particular workplace resembled a train more than a jet plane. You keep chugging along, picking up speed just to slow down for the next stop. There was, and is, no scope for anything taking off.

Then the place itself. Prohibitively expensive to stay in, it gives you the feeling that you're in a Shakespearean play, particularly, Much Ado About Nothing. It is, ladies and gentlemen, a wasteland. Someone, somewhere, thought they could pull off a Dubai. Sorry, not happening. There is no water, no electricity, and no roads. The entire place is just 3 roads. The rest is suburban. Sub-sub-urban. Think Salem, not Tanjore/Trichy. Electricity is leased at 5.75Rs a unit flat, water tax is almost as high and to top it all off, there isn't any electricity for at least 7 hours a day. Not to mention, absolutely no concept of public transport. For what this fuss, then? For development that will come in 15 years, probably when pigs fly and England win a world cup.

The biggest disadvantage, however, is how not happening this place is. Come weekend, what do you do? Sit at home and sweat while you get a weekend bonus of 10 hour power cuts. Or, alternatively, go to one of these amazingly repetitive malls and laze around while utter boredom makes you go buy clothes.

The companies have an untenable cost of operation. The employees have an untenable cost of living. The place is not renowned for it's quality of labour and most of the workplace is invariably imported. The proximity to Delhi seems like a petty excuse to live in Gurgaon. It is like living in a hut, consoling yourself that the mansion is just down the road. It makes more sense to go to a Tier-II city and make use of the land and infrastructure it already has.

Of course, not all of my ire is the fault of the place. The company, or lack of it, is equally irritating. Stuck with guys that are, granted, very nice and all, but whose idea of fun is sitting in their PG and saving up money that they earn during the week. They do not want to travel to Jaipur, nor do they want to sample the famed chat in Delhi. They do not care for sight-seeing nor do they care for coffee. It is always too far, or too hot, or too expensive. The truly tragic part of it is that I, being me, am incapable of doing any of that alone. Without company, it seems, frankly, a waste.

I have exhausted positive intent, at least for the time being. How much can you grin and bear the irritation that is heaped upon you day after day. After a point of time, Facebook gently reminds you that it cannot substitute for hostel, and that you are veritably alone. The world cup, with all its color and fun, comes in 90min spurts (which are unkindly interrupted by the power cuts). National SMS and chatting helps, but even if you are freaking Larry King, you're gonna stop being entertaining after a few weeks non-stop. Books offer solace, sparingly.

I doubt if I'd be proud of this rant tomorrow, even an hour from now. Whining is for sissies, would be one of my mottos, and I would still stick by that. But somewhere, something breaks, even if temporarily. Maybe there are people who are leading lives less rosy than mine, maybe there are others who are staying alone, others who can claim to have gone through this and handled this better. Pass judgement if you will, but I assure you, this summer has been an unmitigated disaster.

Sonnet for Home...

An impromptu sonnet that sprung up at work the other day... I risk becoming a sobbing, very non-macho mess soon...

To wake at ten and breathe the salted breeze,
To yawn and stretch and reach for my phone,
To gaze sleepily upon the waving yellow trees,
To know that you sleep in the comfort of your home,
To laugh with friends and cry with some,
To walk alone sans oppressive hurry...
To sing some lines, and others gently hum,
To eat and drink, mock, make merry,
To sprawl in the sand while dusk yawns idly,
To speak in the tongue that I hold dear,
To see anothers' eyes dart around slyly,
To jump and bound and shout without fear,
Will the weeks soon vanish, or do I hope in vain
To be tomorrow, home again?

A small note about the structuring... the rhyme scheme, originally a 14-line AABB type rhyme, was subsequently modified to the Shakespearean Sonnet 3x(ABAB)CC. Of course, I have no idea what a quatrain is so don't know if this conforms to the purist's expectation, but I do know that since every line in the sonnet body is independent, it was mighty easy to rearrange it!

Following up with a post of why this yearning and remorse...

Is there a Raavan, inside.....

Thus did Mani Ratnam sign off on the audio booklet. Ten heads, he said. A hundred voices. Is there a Ram inside Raavan. Is there a Raavan, inside every one of us.

He wasn't fooling me. With that excitement that only a Mani Ratnam movie or an A.R.R album can inspire, I ran around telling everyone, what he really wanted to say was closer to,

Is there a Raavan inside Ram?

Mani Ratnam's Raavanan/Raavan has been in the news for a while now. With D-Day finally here, I waited for an agonizing day, catching the morning show on Day 2. En Route to my seat, I probably heard the most Tamil since coming to Gurgaon, and it was a pity I was too nervous to appreciate it. So we move, to the movie... Raavanan...

The title track, Veera, kicked things off. That track has perhaps the best start of the album, and what a way to use it! Vikram's face in various contortions and guises lit up the screen. Then confirmation... Mani Ratnam/Madras Talkies/Raavanan.

The first thing that strikes you about the movie is the visuals. Somehow, the same screen that showed a movie no less technically brilliant that Ridley Scotts' "Robin Hood" last week, seems to have transformed into some sort of super-HD screen. Water sprays, sunlight seeps through, blinds and lights in equal measure. Every frame is a masterpiece, drawing from the one before and setting up the one after. Santosh Sivan has easily produced the best looking movie I have seen, barring Avatar, The Lord of the Rings and a few fantasy movies that slip my mind. Green never looked greener, nor did water ever make you thirstier, nor did the inner Raavanan ever wake up as swiftly as today, when the clear blue eyes of Aishwarya Rai Bachan lit up with surprise.

The story has several, several subtle shades in it. For starters, this is not the Raamayana. Like Abhishek Bachan very eloquently put it in a recent interview, this is more the Raavayan. By changing perspective, by looking at this war from the point of view of Raavan, Mani Ratnam has indeed done what only one person before him has - Kamban, who wrote the Kamba Ramayanam proclaiming Raavan as king, god and what not. For the pious who are protective of their faith, this movie is not for you. Ram here is quick to anger, he is ruthlessly efficient, and he is by no means out to live the perfect life. This is war, and his concept of right seems more Krishna than Rama. The gut-wrenching interrogation of Veera's B-I-L, the heartless betrayal of the Parley code wrt Veera's brother, and later, the ultimate deception. Prithviraj is adequate, yet in the face of all-round outstanding acting, comes off as the weak link.

Sita is ravishing, sinfully so. Like mentioned, her costumes inadvertently torn, her exertions to escape, and her cat-in-a-box attitude, with her soft vulnerability, her fears and her beauty - Mani Ratnam, Santosh Sivan and Aishwarya Rai conspire to tempt you into believing that there is a modicum of reason to the madness that grips Veera. Ash comes out with her best performance that I care to recollect - I was a staunch critic of her plastic faces and irritating dialogue delivery, but today I eat my words whole. Her pleas, "Show me the villains as villains, is that so difficult for a God to do! Give me the strength to hate them... Do not let them love me." and "Dev! It is an act. I act brave, and violent and strong... Inside I live with the fear that you may not come" are truly touching. That we can feel for Ash as we would for one such as Sita (you get the comparison) says volumes.

Dialogues by Suhasini (?) are apt. Maybe a touch too many overt references to the epic, but overall they serve their cause. The dialogues for Karthik (and their subsequent delivery by the veteran) are a pleasant reminder that comedy can exist purely thro' words, not necessarily actions. An inspired dialogue this - "I could kill you for your Sita... But it is for her that I save you."

Vikram, Veera, is outstanding. Despite the mildly irritating "Bam bam dum dum" and the 'Aalavandhan' inspired head twitches, he delivers what his director has asked of him – make this monstrous, uncultured demon a likeable and upright, although violent, outlaw. The movie does not depend on any one actor, true, yet the tension and the pace is persistent because of Veera's emotion, bubbling near the surface, unpredictable and even blasphemous. Consciously, the 'Curse' on Raavan to not touch any woman against her will here is more of a choice – such details contribute in making Veera much less of a villain, and more of a hero stuck on the wrong side. Indeed, you might be tempted to wonder, “Hang on, this is what happened in the story, yet there we always thought Raavanan was the evil guy... this guy seems all right!”

The music of the film is an enigma. With not much insight into the world of Rahman that so many next to me have explored in depth, I will not venture but to suggest that the music is a bit underrated. Suddenly, a tune jumps out of you and sticks. Also, the rot about ARR being unable to score BGM's is baseless. I used Kanathil Muthamittal as a case study before, Raavan too is a case in point.

Something I CAN comment on, at least amongst my peers, is the lyrics by Vairamuthu. The man is a god of imagery, and nobody I have heard has ever courted Nature's beauty as elegantly. That said, “Kodu Pota”, “Keda Kiri” are timepass. “Kaatu Siriki” which has come under fire purely because of its extraordinary rendering as “Ranjha Ranjha” in Hindi, actually hits home with the lyrics, though a few more listens are requied to isolate the lines that do. “Veera” is written by the director himself (again, a sly move to get his point across without interfering with the storyline). “Kalvare” is a happy wive's day-dream. “Usure Pogudhey” has 5 geniuses working in Tandem, and deserves a post by itself.

To sum up, Raavanan is a great watch. It may not be, at first glance, a movie that may require Mani Ratnam's treatment. Yet there are shades, subtle shades yet like in any enduring epic, shades that (I bet) will reveal themselves as time progresses. On the face of it, it is just a glorified hostage tale, with bells and whistles – yet beneath that, it is the tale of the ego of a man, the fears of a wife and the desire of a villain. It is also the attempt by a director to explore his own (probably not-so-concrete) beliefs in a man we are brought up to know as the embodiment of evil. Yes, the movie has issues with pace, and sometimes the reactions could have been underplayed (considering that Mani R is the god of the understatement) yet I feel to pick on these and pan the movie as stilted or uninspiring is an attempt to show you are 'above the hype and the names involved'. This movie is open enough to be interpreted in a million ways, and only those who want to will look at the glossy, 'faulty' outer covering.

Signing off with a dialogue that I believe is meant to be important, but did not fully understand...this is one movie the DVD is a must buy...

“A husband like a God, a wife who is from the heavens, and me, a demon who can only envy. Yet in my envy I shall rise, and I shall outshine you all!”

Strange. DVD, quick please!

Incredible Truths

I have always wondered how the animals that roam the road, and I mean the ones that necessarily have to use four legs and not the ones that choose to, often characterize the local flavor. Not the cuisine, the flavor of the place, so to speak. You know, the kind of thing that makes a guy yell his gizzards out selling eggplants and what not at 6 in the morning, clearly misguided into believing that decent people wake before 8. Or, if you will, the kind that makes that little meter go kaput, and instead force you to engage in some intellectual exchanges regarding time, distance, and space - if the Auto has any for you or not. Chennai has dogs and Trichy cows. The whole of Kerala, of course, has fish. Any smart alec comments about fish not being on roads will be met with the curt, cutting and sharp retort that roads aren't in Kerla, as much as rivulets.

In this vein it must be mentioned that my current whereabouts has pigs on the road. The type that were never taught hygiene, grunt, choose to play right in the way of diligent people minding their businesses early in the morn. and of course, eating everything in sight. The astute observer would no doubt have, well, observed, that I spend most of my life in such a set-up - the inmates of Lapis are notorious for their upkeep, or lack of it. Yet I mean pigs in the literal . Actual, flat nosed, oink-oinking, soon to be sausage types.

Speaking of pigs, I was called one, with numerous titles attached, by a close friend yesterday. The issue was a trivial one, simply a case of a slip of hearing. I was pretty confident that she mentioned a Canadian Godzilla, but when I ventured to suggest that Godzilla, being Japanese, would have been exported to a score of countries and that hence, she was as likely to find a Canadian Godzilla as a Sudaneese Godzilla, I was promptly called an extremely well qualified pig.
Further investigation revealed that she had, in fact, spoken in a tongue known only to signboards and bus conductors in a certain cosmopolitanu cityu.

A note on the 'u' concept. If highly placed sources in the government are to be believed (meaning the guy fixing the telephone pole) the 'U' movement was a direct marketing retort to the 'I' movement. While the 'i' stood for intelligence, individuality and incorrigible-overkill, the Naidu's and the Krishna's sat together and decided that since the Indian way always puts the guest above self, ours would be the 'You' movement. For marketing reasons (and because SMS is the next big fad after Buddhism, Power Yoga and Waging Expensive Wars) this became 'U'. Further, one family, being of kind, generous and slightly dull disposition, said that since they had U's almost everywhere, from cheppu to sudoku, ceded the chair of the movement, the lantern of progress and what not to the other. Thank U very much, they said, and merrily went about repainting signboards.

Delhi is full of gas..

I wouldn't think there are many places that have both humans, and fuel being doled out by the kilo. It is thus that I looked up to count my lucky stars, promptly getting blinded by the midday sun, when I saw a sign that said, Gas - 21.70 Rs/Kilo.

To put it in context, for all you lovers of Mr.Bean jokes sniggering away, Delhi, by the account of one fine young gentleman, who provides excellent company from Noida to Gurgaon, and even drives a cab, has 85% vehicles running on CNG. That's a LOT. Being of the shrewd, calculating, 16teraflops-and-counting-processor types, I asked him, "How much mileage doth thou revievest?".

What I wanted to as, is of course, obvious. But thanks to the CBSE's terrific Hindi teaching pattern, where we learn to speak like we're at a Hindi dubbed high-tea bash, thats how the poor fellow heard it. In any case, he was sporting enough to smile and say, "8 kilos to 100 kilometers". Some frenetic processing ensued where I determined the square root of infinity, before concluding that this was, in short, aces. No wonder then that I spent 40 mins waiting in queue at a CNG bunk.

Another interesting observation... the CNG pumps are all automatic. Meaning you can plug it into your cylinder thingy, and keep holding the button. Some complex thermodynamics ensures that the thing doesn't blow up or overflow. In fact, even saw a few readings do a small dance routine at 5.67 kg... 5.66kg... 5.67 again... ah yes 5.6 at last.

One last, completely rad thing I noticed. Heard of how the sun never set on her Majesty's empire and all that jazz? We'll, for a democracy we aren't doing that bad. The sun rises at 5.30ish and sets at 19.30ish. Dinner is served at 21.30. I rest my case.

Like Obelix would've admirably put it, "These Delhi-ites are crazy!". But darned good looking, too. So we forgive them, as we have forgiven so many others, and just thank the Sun god for those extra hours of light.