Untag me

First post in 3 months, after crossing 7 seas and having had the most learning experiences in the shortest time ever, will be the reply to my sister's tag questions:-
Go Figure!!

I promise my thoughts (in form of Blog posts) will be unleashed soon and shall continue on a regular basis thereon...
1.Grab the book nearest to you, turn on a random page and find random line.
“God is DEAD!” Roman thundered “God is dead and Satan lives! The year is One, the first year of our Lord! The year is One, God is done!”
From “Rosemary’s Baby” by Ira Levin

2.Stretch your left arm out as far as you can.
Why?

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
”Kung Fu Hustle”

4.Without looking, guess what time it is?
10:30 AM??

5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
10:32 AM

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
”Faint” by Linkin Park in my iPod

7. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
Today morning. Was on my way to office

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
My stupid sister’s silly blog.

9.What are you wearing?
Blue shirt and black pants

10. Did you dream last night?
yes.

11. When did you last laugh?
In the morning.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
Picture of Yashoda with Krishna on her lap, a painting of Ganesha, 2006 Mellon Calendar, Phone numbers of my collegues.

13. Seen anything weird lately?
NYC. And its very weird in everyway.

14. What do u think of this quiz?
Huge waste of time.

15. What is the Last film u saw?
”Kung Fu Hustle”

16. If you became a multimillionaire overnight, what would you buy?
Anything I want.

17. Tell me something about you that I dunno.
I wear tinkly anklets with western formal wear.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
Remove the capacity for mindless violence from human mind.

19. Do you like to dance?
Depends on the song.

20. George Bush
President.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Tejaswi

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Tejas

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
I am doing that, knuckleHead!!

24.What do you want GOD to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
Hi.

25. People who may do this memo in their journal.
I am a humanitarian. No one will be tagged.

Change of address

You know how familiarity seems to breed contempt, especially when you've been leading a very automated life...Familiarity also breeds a sense of safety and when you're [to be] removed from that little mini-world you've created for yourself, you realise it more than ever.

Oh, and if it wasnt obvious already, I am terrified. Thought of leaving makes me sick to my stomach [literally].

Still, I have to go. Dont know when I will be able to continue blogging again [depends on very many factors] but hope to be back in full force ASAP [which should also be banned from usage along with EOD and .etc.]

Flying Away,
Rain

PS: Nope. Still not talking about marriage.

Paradise Lost

I have just broken the cardinal rule of blogging. A new post when most will not have had enough time to read the previous one, thus ensuring that it will not be focus of the casual visitors' attention and therefore will be ignored.
But the frequency of my posts does more with my wanting to say something than with anything else.

On Friday while on my way to Chepauk, I happened to spot a march by about 30-40 people on the opposite side of the road. All of them carried this flag and placards bearing the legend "Free Tibet":

I marveled at the strength of conviction that these guys had to take a march with so minimal a number just to make a stand that probably went into ignominy like my previous post.
It also made me very curious to watch the news item that China, in the ongoing Indo-China border dispute settlement talks, is adamant in claiming the Tawang area of Arunachal Pradesh as its own. Incidentally Tawang is one of the most developed areas of the eastern state; but that takes the backseat to the fact that it is home to the Buddhist Monastery who's occupants and supporters are scared to death of what could happen if the Chinese have their way again.

Coincidentally, I discovered that the only movie in my personal collection that I hadnt already watched already was "7 years in Tibet". So I spent roughly 2 hours last evening watching that movie and found that it was by no means a waste of time.
X---X---X
Here are the basic facts of the movie [in accordance with Akshaya's suggestion], Source:IMDB

Directed by
Jean-Jacques Annaud

Writing credits
Heinrich Harrer (book)
Becky Johnston (screenplay)

Released 1997

Cast overview:
Brad Pitt	....	Heinrich Harrer
David Thewlis	....	Peter Aufschnaiter
B.D. Wong	....	Ngawang Jigme
Mako	....	Kungo Tsarong
Danny Denzongpa	....	Regent
Victor Wong	....	Chinese 'Amban'
Jamyang Jamtsho Wangchuk	....	Dalai Lama, 14 Years Old

The story is the account of the Austrian Climber Heinrich Harrer,( the all round Alpha Male) who seeks to conquer the Nanga Parbat and is captured by the British at the wake of WWII. He escapes with his Expedition leader Peter Aufschnaiter, with whom he first has a hate-hate relationship that turns to great friendship. The duo land in Tibet, which is closed to all foreigners because their prophecy tells of the 13th Dalai Lama having to lose his place and his country to invading foreigners. The kindly minister Kungo Tsarong takes the men in.
Harrer does the survey of the Lhasa city and also get to build a movie house for the young Dalai Lama, who he comes to look on as a son-substitute [his own son, who he has never seen, refuses to accept him as the father].
His Holiness is a vivacious young man, so full of curiosity about everything micro and macro that Harrer once exclaims- "Do you know of other sentence constructs, besides Questions?"

China begins its relentless attack on the peace-loving, non-violent and entirely non-militaristic Tibet and the 14 yr old accepts command of his country and people, who have intense and simplistic faith in their religion helping them overcome the onslaught of the enemy [they revere enemies in Tibet and consider them teachers of patience and faith].

Chamao, the gateway to Tibet, falls after a unevenly matched slaughter of the poorly equipped Tibetian army, and the young, ambitious Governor Ngawang Jigme gives into the politics of the matter and signs a surrender. Thus heralding the occupation of Tibet that has lasted on to this day.
X---X---X
The present Dalai Lama, is a consummate Media man. He is able to make followers of everyone he meets all around the world, so much so that many of the glitterati of Hollywood have turned Buddhist and are taking up the cause of Tibet. The ordinary people of Tibet are also wonderful in their innate ability to mesh with the locals wherever they settle, while still raising their voices to the liberation of their Homeland- Tibet [or paradise].

Nevertheless, China is still the Big Brother of this part of the world. India, despite its emerging strength is unable to effectively oppose it for the sake of the Tibetians, for whom it has maximum empathy and support. If Arunchal Pradesh were to cede to China, we would be doing the same thing that Ngawang Jigme did in case of Chamao. Soon there will come a time when the Chinese will also swallow the vastness that is India, in its entirely; right down to the safe Tamilnadu. Then we will ask the same question that the Lama asked Harrer - "Will people come look at the movies of us and wonder what happened to our country, one day?"

If the Japanese were cruel to the Chinese in Nanjing[for example], the Chinese have also shown their utter lack of mercy for the Tibetians and the Indians (remember our BSF, so many regiments who died right down to the last man, in their efforts to keep away the vast chinese army). When it comes to war, violence and accession - it is always the fight between the Powerful and the Peaceful; the nationalities never matter.

We are peaceful people. We revere our non-violence and our respect for all life. But we should never yield; otherwise we may one day face the same fate as our other peaceful brethren - the lovely people of Tibet.

Free Tibet from Chinese oppression,
Rain
PS: I think I have just been marked by the People’s Republic for my pro-Tibet stance. These guys apparently block content with the help of Google [Et Tu, Brutus?!]

Illusion of free will

Destiny.
A concept not accepted by many because that would mean that man is not in control of what is to happen to him. It would mean we have to accept that there are many random forces acting on you in many ways that make you steer in the directions, not necessarily of your choice...like a leaf in the wind.

I believe that I choose everything with respect to me.
Although, I admit, that of late, that belief is getting shakier. I ranted and raved in this very blog of inertia and time being ripe for changes that would take me to the next level.
What I didnt see coming, in my expectation for a staircase, was hundred floor elevator that moves at the speed of light. Now, although rising high is a good thing, the ingrained paranoia wonders "is this too much of a good thing?"
While still battling that, the next surprise rolls in, hardly giving me enough time to even take it all in. Oh and this one is a good thing too. And yeah, they are mutually exclusive.

Decisions Decisions...
pro-cons analysis, SWOT listings...all that funda still falls short when its time to take a step in any of the 2 ways.
Then you realize what you knew all along; there was never any choice. Ever.
You only go the way that is for the greater good, a popular choice of the ones you care about.
This cannot be termed sacrifice, for you cannot say for sure if you'd have struck gold if you had gone the other way. Also, there is a good chance that the path that your people are urging you to tread in may be the one path that leads to your personal destination.

This is the point where I lament, and todays theme is : "Why do good things come in mutually exclusive pairs" or "Why can't I have the cake and eat it too?" [what is the point of the cake other than eating it?]

A new phase is starting, the one I chose with the illusion of my free will. I accept the consequences. It will literally be a new world removed of anything I find familiar.
I am brave or I hope I am. I will face things the best way I can.
If I am a pawn of destiny then I will act with the thought that I am destined to be the best I possibly can be. Still human enough to be scared of new things, but not enough to be deterred by them.

Fighting for control of my life,
Rain

PS: No, I am not getting married.

Why he couldnt sleep...

"A little guilt, goes a long way" - says Trevor Reznik to Maria (the name of the holy mother) and just about sums up the psyche behind the very interesting movie - "The machinist"

Having seen the fight club, you know what is coming when Ivan (the guy who does not exist) comes into the life of Trevor who is -
a) suffering from insomnia for over a year,
b) rapidly losing weight,
c) Having very fixed movements in a lonely existence,
d) Writing notes to himself.

But still we need to appreciate the effort put in by Christian Bale to get into the skin and bones (for there is nothing else) of his character.

There are 2 women in his life- a lover (Stevie) and a mother(Maria), her little boy Nicholas, the cheerful psychopath Ivan and the men in his factory, But lots of suspects that will fill the hangman puzzle of _ _ _ _ ER (Tucker, Miller, Mother... ??).

Ultimately, Trevor finds redemption and sleep when he embraces his guilt (that has caused all this trouble all along) and turns himself in.

Although 'guilt trips' are discussed so much, it does not do justice to the impact it has in the life of a person. How much of the guilt is shaped from nurture, from nature, morality and societal effects and just how much is plainly voice of the invisible component called a conscience?
All these questions raised themselves when I saw this movie.

Plus it creeped me the slighest little bit because I find it hard to sleep sometimes and I dont know why...

Time to take a trip,
Rain

Memoirs Of a Geisha - Book Review

Its a different book, most certainly.

Japan has held an air of mystique very successfully and is known to be a very closed and rigid society. The exotic women with stark white painted faces with heavily lined eyes and the pouted red mouth are so the antithesis of everything one is used to, that they greatly inspire curiosity and interest.

But having read the book, the story seems very familiar and unfortunately too real. A young girl from a small fishing village, Chiyo Sakamoto, is sold to a Okiya, a house of the Geishas, for training to be its principal source of income in the future. This is her story, of her trials and tribulations, her falling in love with the Chairman, her apperenticeship, her debut as a Geisha and how she eventually gets her man.

The part of the book that got me sore was her mizuage (look it up if you need to know) being sold off to the highest bidder.A story that in some concentrated or diluted version lies behind every exploited woman in the world.
Also the point all throughout the book that Sayuri (Chiyo's Geisha Name) gamely accepts what she has to do like someone who has to do like it were a humdrum yet necessary household chore. She'd rather sleep with someone she doesnt care for rather than a man who loves her (and saved her life a couple of times), because she does not want to screw up her chances of getting together with his bosom buddy.
At that point, I really felt she was doing the exploitation.

Of late, I'm getting to read a lot of Japan based books like- Crichton's "The Rising Sun" and "Angel Eyes". Crichton's book is basically based on a whole lot of research on the part of a paranoid United States, who believe that Japan will financially take over them someday and that day may not be in the far too distant future.
"Angel Eyes" gives a lot of insight about the seedy underground of Tokyo, the Yakuza and how there is a nexus between them and the corporations.
The more titbits of info emerge about this very fascinating country, the more it seems unreal and unknown.

The point that was consistent across all the 3 books was the very strong emphasis on the way people to people contact happens in a typical Japanese society. Gestures are so vital there, body language is so full of meaning that actual talk seems clipped in comparison. And just how painfully polite the people are how remarkably high their threshold of patience is.

There is a whole lot to look up to Japanese for apart from electronics, cars, Pokemon and Bey Blade franchise, for example how as a nation they bounced back from the devastation of the WWII. True Grit and determination seems to be into woven into everyone there.

All this said, when I look at the cartoons in Animax, I see that most of the stories feature this really young teenager, with a whole lot more endownments than is usual for a Japanese girl, very short swishy skirt and lots of getting dressed or bathing scenes. Some dark, disturbing obsession with young girls, in some level, continues to exist, even if there are no more 15 yr old Geishas around to bid for anymore.

But who are we to talk when so very many young girls are sold into prostitution for paltry sums in almost every major city or town in India? Atleast Sayuri's story has a happy enough ending.

Definitely worth reading, if atleast to get a sneek peek into Japanese culture.
Rain

PS: Now in posish to watch the movie and Comment on that. [Yaaay, me!! I Heart Ken Watanabe and I like Michelle Yeoh(who's malaysian not japanese)]

Dissecting Hannibal

I worship the ground that Anthony Hopkins walks on.

He brings class and contained violence at the same time, to this wonderfully sketched character of Hannibal Lecter. Must be pretty obvious, but I hated Merchant & Ivory and all of England when I saw him in "Howard's End" and "Remains of the day". But sequential processing is hardwired to the very genetics of Indian junta, so let me not jump randomly at topics.

"Silence of the Lambs" is a great book, so is "Red Dragon" and "Hannibal". Thomas Harris is one very twisted yet brilliant man, to have come up with these three gems. Alas, he sold them off to Hollywood and they filtered out the very soul of the books.

"Silence..." by its very name is essentially the story of Clarice Starling. The psycho who kills women in a seemingly random manner and the kidnapped daughter of the senator .etc. are just circumstances added to the main thread. Its all about Clarice and her inner demons, loss of her father and her distinct sensory memory of the lambs in the night at her aunt's house.
About her finding an understanding soul in a convicted, vicious, cannibalistic, brilliant psychologist. Of course she's drawn to him. But why is he also drawn to her, when he openly states his disdain for her 'white trash' background?

"Hannibal" provides those answers. Details of who Dr.Lecter essentially is, his background story, the loss of his sister, his witnessnessing the soldiers' cannibalism and the understatement of the kind of trauma that would make a clever brooding boy into "Hannibal the Cannibal" .etc. are found aplenty in this last installment of the trilogy.
Indirectly, we also get the implication that Hannibal sees something of the sister he lost in Starling and hence the extreme feelings with regard to her seem to wash over him. He himself is never ever sure if he wants to love her, kill her, save her or eat her.
But it ends with the finale so open to interpretation that its very exciting.
Hannibal and clarice sitting in a tree...

The movie version of "Silence of the lambs" was good. Very good.
"Hannibal" seems like a partial rendering. Ok, so the man is creepy and souless, he is also pulled towards this dame who's getting the worst of the FBI's inner politics. Why no scenes for "Just why is that?" Also "Hannibal" is showing off Mason's loss of face, quite literally, than is required by the script-just to increase the gore value. And the botched ending where the heroine emerges unscathed and away from the anti-hero who is flying away, minus a hand - absolutely opposite to the harmonious ending of Mr.Thomas Harris [why are u not suing?]
Ray Liotta, still rocks :). Julianne Moore is no Jodie Foster.

But Anthony Hopkins...is another matter altogether. This guy is old. Very very ancient. Yet, when he kills, moves swiftly and is physically dangerous- You believe it.
He also turns on the charm, so very well. There is simply no dimension to this complex and difficult character that Mr.Hopkins missed in his portrayal.

So full points to Thomas Harris and ANthony Hopkins, Boo to the rest.

Read the novel, Dont watch the movie.
Rain

See SAW

I mean it.
See the damn thing. It is very gross and bloody, not to mention extremely twisted. But it is still compelling (or is it just me?)

Funda is about choices. A whole set of situations where the supposed farce of a choice exists- sounds like a definition for Life I think (or is it just me?)

Some random (that is what one thinks initially anyway) junta are put together just like the junta in your family are put in with you. Everyone starts off with “Where am I ?” and few other typical questions which can also stand for the deep introspective and metaphysical questions that everyone has at one point or the other…example “How did I get here?”

Then you are made aware that you are given some things read latent assets – intelligence, looks, money (A Tape, photos and the saw -in the movie); but that you also have some limitations and constraints that prevent you from operating freely read debts, disabilities, skeletons in the coffin, guilty secrets, liabilities in general (in the case of the film - chains that bind to the pipe at one end and the ankle at the other) and that you are put here to do certain things which you might not want to do if you really had a choice about it – here we think of the careers we picked so it would mean better things for your family rather than what made you happy, about the things we do every day that you would so give everything to just stop doing (in the movie its – kill the other guy, or just cut your own foot off). Motivation for picking the painful job is some invisible carrot dangling in the air (The promise that his wife and little girl will not be killed)

And orchestrating all of this, is some methodical, efficient and oh so very cold creature, with its own compulsions and motivations, that also keeps a constant watch over you all the time read God or the entity that humans believe in. The trapped duo even scream out to that master puppeteer, pulling their strings, at many places, but receive no response…rings a bell?

Think about all those times you cried out starting with “Oh God, Please…” and then nothing.

The most torturous part is figuring out - Why? Why is this happening? Why Me? Don’t we ask ourselves the very same questions all throughout our lives? Only in this movie’s case, at least at the end, one comes to know just why these things happened and why these guys were picked. Sadly, we may not ever get the answers to our questions, only some consolation terms like ‘Karma’.

And finally when all the twisted choices have been forced on the victims, they have been taken for a full ride and made to believe in a trail of wrong assumptions, they desert each other and it is revealed that the key to the shackles were with you at the very beginning but you let it gush down the drain.

The craziest part is that all of this sadistic torture teaches one to appreciate life more, teaches life lessons, actually helps. Just like we are told our hardships help in building our character.

I like this movie. Some, who watched it with me, felt only mental and psychopathic people will like it. I definitely don’t think so. I think the trick here to understand what it is supposed to convey, its underlying parody of life, rather than just take it as a psycho movie with thrills – its face value.

I thank the guy that lent me the DVD. What I don’t thank him for is for his having given me the psycho’s whereabouts even before I could physically take the DVD from him…and ruining the last great surprise that the viewer is supposed to get.

An unexpected gift but with a pang of regret – a rose with a thorn- also a metaphor for life…(or is it just me? )

Just Me,
Rain

Sarfarosh

Few of us decided to do something special for Republic Day. We got lots of flags and decorated the whole of our office space in colored paper and the beloved tricolor. The rest just watched as if they were Jane Goodall with a bunch of particularly weird Gorillas. In fact, as the novelty of grown people clambering over tables and chairs in unsupported attempts to wish the decorations on th ceiling, they began to exhibit signs of annoyance. Typical India.

Someone wanted more reality in my posts, and I had promised to supply the same. The intention was to probably write up a ball-by-ball account of the Ladies Cricket Finals which, we lost, by the way. Something unexpected came up though, by way of free tickets to "Rang De Basanti" for all us Cricketers!

Bit of background though; I studied in the Arya Samaj school. To me the memory of the great Revolutionaries and their mentors, is sacred. Rang De spoke to that inner girl who bristled with pride and grief when she first came to know about a certain young man called Bhagat.


Coming back to the movie, I am certain that you do not want a synopsis.So I offer instead, my feelings about it. Firstly, any movie on nationalistic fervor, which is not made to appear contrieved is most welcome. And if one were to comment on relevance of the fervor that the revolutionaries had in youth of contemporary India, I would say that there are many ways to ponder about that. One such contemplation has apparently led to "Rang De".

Secondly, the point that is distinctly not in our favor is the fact that we only look at the good that is inherent in us, when some foreigner were to admire it; in this case it takes a Sue from London for DJ and gang to discover the sacrifices that Indian youth had made, without any hesitation, just 6 decades ago.

Third comes the mention of the performances.
Atul Kulkarni shines like a beacon of a lighthouse in the darkest
stormiest night. His emotion-choked recital of Ram Prasad Bismi's "Sarfaroshi Ki Tamanna..." made my hair stand on its end. That is easily the best moment of the movie.
Soha was wooden, Aamir-a wrinkly antique and Madhavan- too plump. The rest meshed in the movie so well, they seemed real. Then, a note on characterization. The character of DJ, the student who passed out years ago, but lingers in the campus still where he is the big man, afraid of real world is in theory-very good. Lakshman Pandey, proud of India and its culture, who sweats it out for a Right-wing party (they have taken no pains to hide that the party being referred to here is Shiv Sena) out of idealism and backs the motley crew in filming and subsequently becomes one of the gang is a good foil for the lone Muslim boy, who considers himself Indian first and does not want to hate the Hindu majority. Sukhi as the gang's clown, who worships DJ is also very identifiable. Sonia as the lone gal and darling of the gang seems full of good possibilities but that hope is destroyed when at the end, she orders the men to kill and own up, while continuing with her life and not taking up any responsibility on her own.
Sue is the not-so passive observer and scribe.

On the whole, I loved most of the movie, but not especially the almost silly ending. The climax and the last parts of the movie fail to measure up to the lovely first half.

Akshaya is the one, who's the pro about writing on movies and interpreting them also. No doubt, he'd have had something to write about Rang De. Now that I have said most of what I wanted to, I will see what he has to say on his own and about this post.

Before Fin, here is the poem by Ram Prasad Bismi, only people without any knowledge of hindi (Sorry, any attempt on my part to translate this would be blasphemy) and the heartless will not be moved by these passionate sentiments:

Hai liye hathiyaar dushman taak mein baitha udhar
aur hum taiyyaar hain seena liye apna idhar
khoon se khelenge holi gar vatan muskhil mein hai
sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai


haath jin mein ho junoon katt te nahi talvaar se
sar jo uth jaate hain voh jhukte nahi lalkaar se
aur bhadkega jo shola-sa humaare dil mein hai
sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai

hum to ghar se nikle hi the baandhkar sar pe qafan
chaahatein liin bhar liye lo bhar chale hain ye qadam
zindagi to apni mehmaan maut ki mehfil mein hai
sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai

dil mein tuufaanon ki toli aur nason mein inquilaab
hosh dushman ke udaa denge humein roko na aa
duur reh paaye jo humse dam kahaan manzil mein hai
sarfaroshi ki tamanna ab hamaare dil mein hai

Inquilab Zindabad,
Jai Hind,
Rain

"Modern Women" of Pop-Culture

WARNING: Only for grown-ups and non-hypocritical people, for I have called a spade, 'a spade' here.

When I began the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series, I was happy in a very liberated small woman way. Here is a hero (to call her heroine, would be to say that she was merely meant to have romance scenes with the hero) who was only 5' 3" and could inspire terror in the heart or equivalent component of vampires, zombies, were-animals and your common garden variety man (yawn).

You also had these delicious guys who are dangerous on their own, yet moony when it comes to our no-nonsense Anita, who wears her devil may care attitude like a constant pair of Nikes.
Here I digress a little, by casting actors to each of these parts (yeah we are talking multiple guys here) just to illustrate the point I will make later on:

• Jean-Claude - Smooth Talking Master Vampire - Brad Pitt (very smoldery)
• Jason - Jean-Claude's pet werewolf - Hayden Christenson (naughty/dimples)
• Richard Zeeman - King of the werewolves - matt Damon on steroids (major nice guy)
• Asher - Jean-Claude's ex-boyfriend, also Vampire - Jude Law (mysterious and beautiful)
• Micah - King of the were leopards, shortie - Tom Cruise (likeable)

Yep, so one can infer the "Yawza!!" factor here...
To have one of these around would be romance-novel fodder, but here we have all of them and just our little heroine (now she starts to be one).
Before long, our lady is embroiled in various affairs in all possible combinations with the men/monsters mentioned above and my liberated spirit retched heavily, and I stopped reading.

I have the same complaint of Ayn 'Bloody' Rand. Her female characters may be strong, independent and intelligent women but they sleep around too much without any qualms.

Why can't the modern woman be represented in a more decent way?

Belonging to the afore mentioned category I can confidently state the common profile of the members: (Refer the cartoon)

• Well Educated
• Earning salary
• Independent
• Decision making ability
• Career minded
• More of brains rather than beauty
  
  
  

  From my perusal of literature and movies on central woman character, I have jotted down points "Top ten things about the heroine of a trashy script..."
  
  1] The attractive new entrant into our Girl's [that is how the heroine will be referred to] life moves, smells, behaves like utter trouble.
  (international terrorist, stealth assassin, vampire, werewolf, amnesiac...)
  
  2] There is more than one major wonderful guy around, who is out to get our Girl; a sitch we know will give rise to moral dilemmas resulting in the most grossly outrageous solution.
  (A vampire and his buddies, two mortal best friends, one mortal and his enemy/boss, Her childhood sweetie+highschool boyfriend+cute boss+fiancee, The guy who hates [but secretly pines for] her + her dependable boyfriend...commonly Husband vs. Ex)
  
  3] our Girl has this best friend who has a wonderful and steady guy who just happens to be the buddy of one pouty Greek god of a male character. So, each central characters will run into the other while in the turf of the common friends.
  When she has misunderstood him, the common friends enlighten her about to his "mother Teresa" side.
  
  4] And each time our Girl "runs into" the Boy (one of the boys, atleast) she thinks "oh how my heart beats to be around this guy...I should avoid seeing him" but never gets around to doing just that.
  
  5] When he meets our Girl, the boy has been doing one of the following activities:
  

  • flexing muscles while lifting heavy things (helping old people is a plus),
  • firing some reptilian individual who we know is coming back to bite buddy boy,
  • making nasty or sarcastic quips about/to her,
  • reading to the blind/taking care of children/any social service work,
  • Working out in the gym or fighting a giant in the dojo.

  So he is mostly angry, sweaty, busy (and or) dripping in blood.
  
  4] There is one arch nemesis girl:
  

  • who hates our Girl from high school
  • is the competitor in office/Boss
  • The pouty Greek god's ex...Etc.

  Who is never given a good makeup person or/and wardrobe selector. This person is always in the throes of PMS and is obviously slutty (although by the end of the script the line between her sluttiness and our Girl's "giving in to her emotions" blurs considerably)
  
  5] our Girl is never actually seen working. Only seen going to or coming from office, or the usual running into good-looking men at office.
  
  6] Everyone loves her at office/in the neighborhood/in the family.
  Our Girl has co-worker friends, neighbor friends and family that will lie down in front of traffic for her. Yet she is alone and longs for the Boy.
  
  7] Our Girl never:
  

  • oversleeps
  • overeats
  • throws tantrums (only has arguments with the hero(es) ending in sparks)
  • is wrong
  • yawns
  • dresses shabbily (looks sharp even while sleeping/after getting up)
  • hits people (except the nemesis-which is an all out cat-fight)

  8] No matter how little she makes, or in which crampy apartment she lives, our Girl never repeats an outfit at all and all her clothes are named after illustrious people-Gucci, Versace .etc.
  
  9] Girl is surprised to find out that the stinky rich pouty Greek god is nuts about her. [I say, when you and he are the only super-good looking people among everyone you know, it’s quite obvious that he will secretly pine away for you.]
  
  10] She cries when he proposes. He is only slightly less emotional. Our Girl pulls out all stops from then on.
  
  This ladies and germs, is everything pop-culture has to offer as facets of the modern woman Pray, don't be fooled into accepting these as being based on facts.
  
  Truth is out there,
  Rain

Laughing Stock

Having come to a stage when the sound of laughing seems to be an alien sensory experience, I wonder, in my almost clinical detachment, if the way we laugh and what/who we laugh for/at, tells you a lot about the laugher.

There is a really cute petite lady who meets with me everyday by way of work. She is not very verbose, in fact she is what you call “strong and silent” if you could ignore the “strong” part. She smiles very often but it’s her rare laugh that made me write this post.
I have only read of tinkling laughter, hers actually reminds you of silvery bells and an utter joy without strings, akin to that of a baby’s, when it finds some fuzzy yet brightly colored object at its span.
Also, it is such a feminine sound, that the air suddenly charges up with the auras of all the alpha males in the vicinity, who turn around to what their instinct says is a girl they can potentially protect in the warmth of their caves.

Yes, all that can be packaged in a laugh. I see the effects. I report.
There is this air of cordiality and innate genial conversation sparks off or continues after the amiable sound is emitted.

I laugh too. It may seem like fiction, considering the trend of my posts, but I assure you. I do laugh. But my laughter is as similar to my colleagues as day is to night. And of the appeal I shall refrain from speaking about, but will let you guess by referring the statement made by a certain boy in 2004, when he said, “My God, you laugh like the Devil”.
The true context to understand the gravity of this comment can be set, when I tell you that this boy spent his extra time looking up the “Apocalypse” and “End of the world”etc. in Google. Also, he had quite a bit of extra time.
So it would be safe to say, I barely escaped being doused in Holy Water for exercising my laughter muscles.

There is a dish of a boy (Yes, women objectify men too) who once told me that laughter should come from the heart and not from the throat. See what you can get away with when you are buff and trim enough to steal focus from your words? Had a normal dude even tried that very quotable quote, he definitely would have had to deal with my “Devil” laughter ringing in his ears for what we’ll call an extended period of time.

But we will try to not digress from the topic too much. Yeah, so my laughter is not the gentle sound that one would associate from a tender vocal cord situated in a suitably appealing throat. I have more of the “Belly” laugh, even deeper than the “Heart” suggested by the Softie-with-muscles. If I find anything funny, which seemed more frequent in the past, I laugh without restraint, without poise, grace and good manners.
And almost all of the time, there is someone to “Shush” me immediately. That pisses me to no end.

From experience, let me tell you this; listening to a person’s genuine laugh is probably the most positively therapeutic experience next to you laughing genuinely yourself. And if you feel that you cannot bear to hear another’s joy or amusement, then maybe you have gone a little too much into the dark side.

You know who is worse than a laugher-stifler a.k.a Shusher? A Fake laugher.
There is something horribly evil about people who act their laugh out.
Those are the people who are likely to rent a couple of cherubic children and an elderly grandmother to accompany them during “Family Day” at office. Nothing they say or do can be considered original.

My having become a grownup, a point of intense disagreement from my mother’s perspective, is illustrated by the fact that I smile “coldly” now. Apparently I have learnt the art of varying the degree of warmth in my smile like a good cook can control his oven temperature…and I am told that of late, the cook is dishing out sub-zero meals. A cold smile is much worse than a no smile, it seems. And it is usually the precursor to a “harsh” laugh- a sound that is a remote cousin of our nearly extinct genuine laugh. A harsh laugh is to show anger or contempt. A more evolved version of a low growl and a bite in the jugular. Needless to say I am pretty good at that too.

Finally there is the point of why the laugh? Is the laugh “with” or “at” the audience?
I am told, by the same experts who’s opinions I have been generously sprinkling all over this post, that it is quite rude to laugh at someone, especially under the circumstance where that someone is in a laughable state. Hmmm….so all those thousands of years of slapstick comedy- when a guy (preferably rotound and not attractive) lands on his backside with the maximum pain inflicted on his person as a result of his unfortunate encounter with the strategically placed banana peel, is actually indicative of mankind’s very malevolent nature.
As far as I am concerned, it is only indicative of a less than evolved instinct of amusement. War and violence is evil.

Laughing with people, most often than not, is a white lie way of saying a that you are laughing at some unfortunate but you have the company of your equally dastardly mates.
So no amount of spit and polish will make that phrase shine.

They say it takes more muscles to frown than to smile and laughter clubs propagate the rabidly hysterical version of a belly laugh (which makes it quite creepy) to keep the heart and mind young (here we go again).

So just laugh when you can and while you can.

There is enough in the world to put you down and when a laugh is sounded, it is the defiant call that one may be down but not out. It is very simply the sound of life.

Your funny valentine,
Rain

The Neo Non-believer

I have decided not to believe in god anymore.
In fact, I refuse to believe in anything good and am going for a doctorate in Professional Skepticism, majoring in Pessimism.
2006 is a crappy new year and its hardly begun… :)
Keep visiting folks, to know the latest on what has gone horribly wrong as usual and all the gruesome details.

If anyone wants me, I will be right here, even after 20 odd years, doing the same things. No forward motion for me, looks like. A trilogy of consecutive failure- that is right up my alley though. :)

Anyone know the address of the nearest Satanic Cult?

Cheerfully yours,
Rain

New Beginnings

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2006 !


I have chosen a very wonderful one for myself, which is full of fun and cheer. Will be more than happy to share the same with you all.
God Bless,
Rain

Acid Rain

Prologue:
Of late I have had quite a few scraps in Orkut in what is apparently praise for my sarcasm.
In my time, (I am a quarter of century old, after all) I should have taken it as criticism, but it seems that these people are complimenting me. So this one is for the lovers of my negetivity, a special compilation of my 'feel-bad' thoughts on-myself.

End of Prologue

Its that time of the year when stock-taking of the year that has been is forced on one by the subliminal forces employed by the media who bombard the viewer with programs that deal with every facet of this year-best books, movies, events, people, politics, sport and entertainment.

I call 2005, “the Year that forced me into becoming very career minded”. There were several reasons for this to have happened. The really main ones are- not getting a call for any PGP course with the 04 CAT score, only a PGSEM from IIM B which I converted* but didn’t join, ‘cos I really didn’t want to, and my being put in a team that gave me enough work to keep me consistently busy. [*Great prep for the GD/PI for this time round, God willing.]

There were several new events that were spawned from my foray into the world of the serious sw professional:

• My blog writing has been very sporadic and sparse. [To the great relief of those who say- Blog writing is for the narcissist loser, who’s egocentrisms are more to be sympathized rather than paid attention to. Read- Desperate cry for attention by pathetic socially-stunted individuals who have filled the internet with more crap than a garbage dump]
• I actually want – promotion, appreciation and more work. None of which I have actually managed to procure for myself, with the exception of, obviously, the last mentioned. This sudden very bourgeois behavior from me has successful shocked even myself. For I, like most others, felt I was a cross between the bohemian weirdness of Phoebe and the acid tongue of Chandler- in all very anti-establishment and nihilistic.
• The fact that I was bypassed for promotion and appreciation because I did not let a total A$$#ole walk over me has made me more anti-establishment and nihilistic. In fact, I have promoted myself from weird to sociopathic.
• I have started spending- in a very big way; despite the fact that my salary in comparison with my friends/classmates of comparable qualification and work-ex, is a mere excuse for a pittance. Yes, Boys and Gals- its official, Rain is a Yuppie buyer of electronic items and casual attire.
• I read Dilbert’s book on management, companies, employees and bosses and ‘identified’ with it.
• I firmly am for career over personal life. There are 2 very good reasons for this- one that I do have a career and second reason that I shall not elaborate over.

• I am on the road to type B malnutrition, largely due to the combined efforts of my office caterer who studied nutrition in McDonalds and Muniyandi Vilas and my wonderful tendency to turn to calorific food for comfort.

Over the past 2 days I have read a whole quarter worth of newspaper and as a consequence depressed myself thoroughly. After all if newspapers were to print select and good articles that inspire hope and happiness- we would not get as much money from giving them to the raddi walla. While I drown myself in cocoa, saccharine and deep fried items, I cannot help but recall the totally skeptical expression that firmly placed itself over the face of the salesman who sold me 2 pairs of jeans of the size that we shall call X. You see, he was of the firm belief that X (which is sufficiently large enough a number, to embarrass a person, by itself) was not the correct size for me and suggested I go for X+2. My father intervened before I could put that smart-mouth in his place by crushing him to death with the bulk of my X+2 sized self.

Oh and if you are wondering why the bullet points and the overwhelming use of ‘I’, it’s a hangover from writing my self appraisal, which I must admit, has not been kind to my self-respect.

Thank god for Blogger, the provider of free therapeutic device called purging oneself of negativity via words that no one will read anyway. See, no harm done-all around!

Hoping I am not this caustic always for fear of accelerating global meltdown,
Rain

Prodigal Rain

In the city of Chennai (and the rest of Tamilnadu), rains have lashed on for more than a month, intermittently. People are cut off still and everyone is getting infected. (The fact that the waters would have seeped down and not caused problems, if it hadn’t been for the widespread encroachment in to the lake and riverbeds, is something no Politician can look at, considering the elections are in the offing and the slum-dwellers and encroachers will exercise their voting rights vociferously.)

Volcker Report named the Central Minister and the ruling party of India as people who paid money to Saddam and themselves made gazillions in the Oil for Food program, which they have vehemently denied (Yup, If you were to go to that central minister and say “The Report states specially that the Sun rises in the East. How do you respond to that?” He’d not even wait for a nanosecond before his litany of “That is completely untrue and baseless”. Way to go, India, love yer choice in elected representatives.).

The Tamil wing of Taliban called by the names that rhyme with ZMK and Banthers Barty took over moral policing in TN and have apparently revoked the right to the Freedom of Speech. Also everyone is to follow the official line on Pre-marital sex (oops!! I didn’t just type what I think I did, did I?), which is

– “What’s that?” [accompanied by vacant expression and scratching of head in a non-intelligent manner]

and after someone has the birds-bees talk with the person; "Doesnt happen in Tamilnadu. Nope. No way.” [taut body stance of springing on the defilers of the purity of womanhood, matching belligerent facial expression]

{This is the approach is designed by that famous avian political scientist, Prof. Ostrich-Vallavan, who has since gone on to the Sahara desert where he can bury his big head in the vast sands and deliberate on why the world has been plunged into sudden darkness while also wondering ‘why is it so damn hot in here’.}

All through this time, I hibernated with all my views in cold storage.

You see, I had to work on creating a break for myself. Now that I am done with the first and most crucial step (preferring to not speculate on the results, praying hard that they should be good), I have joined the land of the living and the opinionated.

Oh yeah, had my birthday in between too. And on that very day went over to my last year’s post on the plans I had made for the year of my life that has just passed. Guess what? SSDD (Same s#it, different day). Nothing has changed.

On the subject on something that is definitely new- check out Trinity Teal's blog.My sister has made her foray into the world of blogging and she's so enamored of it. She's good.

Others have been doing good too, apparently. Shwetha has experienced the first snowfall of her life and is enjoying it. Brinda is hiking and traveling to the most gorgeous locations in North American like she always planned. Angana, gave a mind blowing dance performance with her troupe in October and seems to have done the “Exam” well too. Vinu got married to Renish on November 10^th. Lakshmi’s sister also got married. Niyas is going to be assigned his own team to lead and is just back from Pune, where he was sent to give training to a bunch of associates on a complex technology that is being used by the Pentagon.

On the whole, naaaah, cant sum up this post; has shot off into too many tangents, every once in a while, to find a common theme.

So yeah, here I am, a year older; any wiser? What does future hold in store for me?

Rain

PS: Jeffery Archer, don’t hate me for plagiarizing the title of your book. If its possible, I think I like it more than you do. Would’ve preferred it more if your lead Lady didn’t have to inherit the most powerful post in the world by default and that you’d shown the people of USA to be mature enough to elect a smart woman. Now that would’ve been good fiction. In fact though, people of USA cannot seem to want either a smart candidate or a female one, let alone one who’s both.

Adios until further notice

To all and sundry,

I have to do some things for the LAST time for the next 2 weeks. So I am not going to be posting anything until the stipulated timeframe is over. Since the regulars have stopped coming here anyway, this is a green signal for all those comment spamming advertisers (who promote anything and everything from 'escorts' to horse related gifts in my post comments section)... Go Ahead Spammers, Do what you will.
I have more immediate concerns.

GOD SAVE ME ONLY (u know when and how)
Rain

Evil and Eves

I am no feminist. And I am not sorry.

Power is neither male nor female.
Katharine Graham

Like all others, I believe that men are more prone to hostile acts towards women than the other way around. The explanation as to why this is so, is where the others and me disagree. Most men (including my own father who has lived in the house with 3 women for 22 years, so far) Women are gentle creatures without a violent bone in their bodies.

I know better.

Reading Disclosure was a re-affirmation of my belief that when it comes to the powerful committing atrocities in various degrees on the powerless-gender no bar. Throw away all the X and Y chromosomal theories and the Nature vs. Nuture postulates. Power Corrupts. Period.

Ok, so you can’t find women committing theft, murder, arson and rape as much as men. But that is simply because, by chance or cultivated choice- this happens to be a man’s world. Fact.
Not being the natural oppressor, the ladies do not get to indulge in some pro-active violence just to prove superiority. That is still the male bastion.

If the world really had equal opportunity then we’d have as many villainous women as there are men. And the women will not be just subtly scheming or poisoning stealthily, instead we’ll go out all for physical fights. That is probably a lot more therapeutic in solving intra-personal problems.

Going on to specifics, say the Work Place. There are females with male bosses and vice versa (software industry is the text book example). Read the following extract from Disclosure (a must read for anyone in that example industry)

Dorfman shook his head. "So much of this is unconscious. Rapport is unconscious, Thomas. But the task of building rapport is different, depending on whether you are the same sex as that person, or not. If your mentor is a man, you may act like his son, or brother, or father. Or you may act like that man when he was younger- you may remind him of himself.
"But if you are a woman, everything is different. Now you must be your mentor's daughter, or lover, or wife. Or perhaps sister. In any case, very different."

"I see this often, now that men are starting to work for women. Many times men cannot structure the relationship because they do not know how to act as the subordinate to a woman. Not with comfort. But in other cases, men slip easily into a role with a woman. They are the dutiful son, or the substitute lover or husband. And if they do it well, the women in the organization become angry, because they feel that they cannot compete as son or lover or husband to the boss. So they feel that the man has an advantage."
“Do you understand?" Dorfman said.
"You're saying it happens both ways."
I got newer insights into my work place relationships based on what has been said.
Its all true. Only if the subordinate guys to female superiors can become comfortably friendly yet maintaining the lack of intimacy (which would never challenge the real men in the personal lives of the female bosses), can the relationship be as smooth as silk.
In short, if you can begin to think of a guy you work with as your job-brother /son(in the same vein as the cousin-brother and the rakhi-brother traditional mindset of the Indian woman), you will be a great boss/mentor.

But getting a mentor when you’re a working girl, its quite a tough thing. Especially considering the “don’t stare at any guy if you don’t want him to get a wrong idea” dogma. [I am happy to announce that my friend has also joined the “Miss. Understood” club with me, that too in “conjunction” with a much younger guy J. So my case was not isolated.
The poor stripling fancies himself as her heartthrob while the poor gal just admits he caught her eye a coupla times and that is all. I say- been there, done that. I live to tell the tale.]
A lady can’t get a mentor of the opposite sex unless she can conform to his image of daughter or sister.

I know its not fair, but Life is never fair. So you have 2 choices, you rant and rave about how we're streotyped into being so nepotistic in the workplace despite our best work ethics working overtime in our tired conscience...or we could shut up and try to work around the obvious.

I know I am being a tratitor to my kind by unravelling this mythical mystique associated with the feminine, but hey whatever...bottomline - Never assume that women are angels who put up with the devils that are men. We are all human and each of us have the angel:devil ratio that is half chance and no choice. Women can and will be as good/bad as men in anyway.

Swinglish Only, Yaar

Author's Note:
This post was rejected by some because of its content that hurts the sentiments of the global audience, due to its negetive references to Indian/Brit and American language, however unintentional.

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Remember the time when Wren and Martin was the bible that got you through those middle school English exams? Remember committing the entire list from Barron's GRE to memory, in college?
When the British bequeathed to us a tottering, depleted economy and a penchant for corruption and red tape, they also left behind the legacy of British Educational system, which has English as its axis. Which is why, in spite of having so many of our own languages, Indians communicate largely via English.

"Zimblee", "vaat" are all you need to hear to know that you're south of the vindhyas where children spell earth's natural satellite as "Yem-Woh-Woh-Yenn"; and its easy to conclude you're at the north when "Bheri Bheri Bhaadd" and "Ispeeking" worm their way into your brain. That is us speaking English not is not yet ours.

The case of USA and their language, serves as a good study for us to create our own friendly version.
Americans flaunt their take on the Ol' English with fierce abandon. They prefer 'gas' to 'petrol', 'cop' to 'police' and that is not akin to the difference between 'Po-tae-tow' and 'Poh-tah-tow'. As a test, try typing the word - 'colour' in any word processor (set to English-American) and you cannot go on without receiving a helpful hint that asks you to use 'color' instead. Now you know just how distinct American (as in "Yo Dude, speak American") is from English. No one gasps in horror or raises their haughty eyebrows (or stiff upper lips) at a busy New Yorker saying "Where-dya-wanna-go?" as if uttering a single word instead of a sentence where one would expect some clipped words with pauses in between. That is because the Americans consider their language as their birthright and the disapproval of the teachers of English mean nothing to them.

Looks like we've followed by example but with our indigenous approach.
As Indians, we have this gift for customization. Since time immemorial, people have been coming in from various parts of the world with their distinct culture, language and customs only it have it homogenized in the great Indian Pot-Pourri.
When we can assimilate rigid components with such ease then the flexible and ever growing language like English is not even a worthy challenge...
I am not talking about the inclusion and worldwide usage of Indian words like Jungle, Fakir, Mulligatawny and Pariah. Those words went into the dictionary when there were Gora Sahibs strutting around in our country calling it their own.

Move over archaic English, for there is stiff competition from Hinglish (Hindi + English) spoken throughout the country seamlessly, Tanglish (Tamil + English) which is the local favorite or to simply give a generic term to all these formats- Swinglish (Software Engineer's English).

The HR of the various companies (mostly IT industry based) in their eminent wisdom make sure that any project would contain members of starkly different demographical profiles, who can represent the diversity in our great country. So having grown up speaking Hinglish, Tanglish, Telinglish, Malunglish or any other member of this family, people come into a team and slowly but surely create this version that contains 60% English, 25% Hindi and 15% local language.

At first the team, has a merry time digesting a 'Arre yaar' (Hindi for 'C'mon Man') prefix to any sentence in shudh angrezi or 'Yenna' (What), ‘Romba’ (Very) or 'Ooru' (City/Place) sprinkled generously and unexpectedly in between the other words and phrases in English. In time the differences melt away- the transported learn the local language by way of the regionalized English spoken by others and the locals learn smatterings of the language of the transported people. The result, ladies and gentlemen is the language that you hear in any corridor or cubicle of any Indian software company- SWINGLISH.

Look no further than all your magazines, books and newspapers where certain italicized words are making more frequent appearances among the chaste English, lending their own spice to the meaning - Junta, Desi, Masala, Hazaar...the list goes on.
We don't bat an eyelid when we receive mail messages like:
"Kya Yaar? Romba busyaa? I was thinking ki when you are free, we could go over the reports, together", in spite of the red squiggly lines (from the spell checker) that mark them; which belies our covert approval and ravenous appetite for Swinglish.

Why does it happen? Research shows that while our western cousins are insularly monolingual predominantly, we Indians are by and large at least tri-lingual. We are English educated, are taught our mother tongue and learn Hindi at some point or the other.
While increased use of various languages, more or less in parallel, is shown to be a marker of a sharper brain, it can also lead the speaker, who is not very centered on the linguistics but rather on the content, to very easily switch across the languages. If the audience is also trained in the same languages, then processing the juxtaposed information from the speaker comes naturally but there is definite realization on the part of the speaker and the listener of the mix.

Regardless of how it came to be or why at all it exists, Swinglish is the version built and promoted by the software based junta of India, that has found acceptance in lyrics of pop and film music; the whole length of Indie movies themselves feature dialogues in a familiar mix of Indian languages and English, NRIs all over earth identify it as their own and everyone you know uses it.

So next time anyone says "But…aanaa" (Tanglish for "But...But") or "Dekho, the point is..." ("Look, the point is..." in Hinglish) and when you see hoardings promoting cellular services that state "Talk pannungaa" (which when translated from Tamil would be "do the Talk" or "make the talk"!!) You can feel certain pride in witnessing the boom of this "Made in India" phenomenon.

Having said hajaar serious stuff, here is a kutti joke:
This Englishman brags (in very bad taste) to our desi guy, "We ruled your country for 200 years".
Unfazed, our aadmi replies, "Arre Bhai, toh what? We will ruin your language forever!”

Analyse This

Just a week ago, one of my newer acquaintances, was trying to re-assure me that I was Scorpio and not the poster child for “Linda Goodman Screwed up!!” rallies. “What distinguishes us our astute analysis of human nature”, she told me, ”try and observe, you have that potential to study, observe and draw very accurate conclusions about people.”

I repeatedly stated that I definitely do not fit the mould drawn up for the Scorpio (human x-ray machine, Linda called us).

If I did possess those tele-whatumaycallit powers, then why would I be Miss. Congeniality/Popularity wherever I go? (Please note the rather heavy undertone of sarcasm and the explicit proclamation of the same). Wouldn’t I coolly be able to manipulate the evil-doers away from my path and not have to rant and rave in my blog?

She dismissed all my points very casually (she’s scorpio too) and maintained her litany of “try it and you’ll see”.

I was inspired to reclaim my latent powers; today, I found a perfect opportunity to flex my heretofore-unexplored analysis muscles. What an excellent bunch to people to analyse – the junta that turned up for mock cats J

Start of Report

We’ll start by breaking down the data into categories and levels.

The first split will be based on gender: - the Girls and the Guys; or the minority and the majority, respectively.

The Girls can be divided as

Behenjis and

Boho Tomboys.

‘Behenjis’ come in immaculate bhartiya nari wear right down to the ornate embroidered handicraft handbags. They are 90% of the time only in the company of atleast one male escort who’s not a blood relation. There is a great deal of walking around and laughing in muted tones. Behenjis avoid contact will all other sections of people that co-habit the mock cat arena except the chosen ones who (if they are wise) will also maintain the mind set that they both are the only people there.

‘Boho Tomboys’ are the deliberately unfeminine girls who land in the center in the crinkliest of the unwashed T-shirts and worn out baggies. They belong to Neo’s mindset after he discovers he is the one-namely, they see everything in zeroes and ones. To know the strictest fashion No-nos one only needs to observe their apparel. Some of these sit with the preparatory material and actually work towards goals.

Among Boys, the variety is more due to their sheer large numbers:

You have the basic split-up as :

‘The Munnas’

‘The Bhais’

‘The Munnas who pretend to be Bhais’

‘And the Bhais who pretend to be Munna’s

‘The Munnas’ are mostly final year college students. Although they are the big brothers in the campus, in the mock cat arena they are the bottom feeders in the food chain. They are fresh faced, well dressed lot, they actually care and prepare. These guys accompany ‘Behenjis’. They come in kurtas or Alligator monochrome upper wear with a matching toned set of trousers. They are the future yuppie tax-payers, the young India. They still write essays on Secularism, Gandhian Ideals and Global Warming.

‘The Bhais’ are the employed lot. They work 6 days a week and want to advertise their need to atleast be able to sleep more on Sundays by coming in a barely sanitary “I haven’t taken a bath yet” look. They wear very strong colors – mostly black and red. Some have “funny” worded T-shirts (why beer is better than women, 10 reasons why Bikes are better than girlfriends – I’d to see these specimens marry their Pulsars and have little pulsar-human children). They are easily identifiable due to their characteristic to roam in packs and not come inside the class unless personally ushered in by the invigilator, also they tend to be on their mobiles quite a lot.

‘The Munnas who pretend to be Bhais’ are the young Alpha males who think they can carry off the tough guy act. They are surrounded by the adoring fan pack (mostly class mates and friends). Can be easily spotted by their desparate attempts to appear more macho – ‘Grateful Dead’ T-shirts, a cultivated unshaven chin, deeply gelled hair, tendency to wear pants in a Hip-Hop fashion (way way below the hip). These people strut with such practice that one starts to hear the strains of “Stayin Alive” in the background. ‘Boho Chicks’ (the term used by them to describe the ‘Boho Tomboys’) are their favorite targets. Their accents reek of faux Americana, the whole range of it – from the mobster NY (generous sprinkling of “F&*^ “everywhere) to Cowboy drawl (talking via nose and clenched teeth).

‘The Bhais who pretend to be Munnas’ are the oldest of the lot. Probably with 2-4 years of Work-ex (and majority of that experience spent dealing firmly with the junta of the other 3 categories), high designation, high pay. They are at the top of the chain, but try to not show it. They come in unglamorous business casuals, sit in the classes as soon as they spot their place and continue in that state of doing nothing until they are handed the question papers. Their mobiles are state of art, their wheels are the swankiest –yet they walk (opposed to strutting) and try to blend. The only reason I can think of their passive act despite the highly aggressive natures is the fear of their subordinates (‘the bhais’) in office catching them in a mock cat center.

Coming to those who actually get through the hallowed IIM screening process:

‘Behenjis’ and ‘the Chicks’ get through in equal number, but their numbers are small enough to begin with.

‘The Munnas’ and ‘the Bhais who pretend to be Munnas’ occupy the top 2 positions among the shoo-in category. ‘The Bhais’ are the largest in the numbers of those who try, but their success percentages are not so good. ‘The Munnas who try to be Bhais’ are the least among those who try, they might get through in a decent number but not to the cream institutions.

End of Report

So by now I was sporting a superior smirk of one who was above the teeming crowd and had clinically studied humanity. Jauntily and with a condescending smile I went in for the actual mock cat. The next thing I remember is standing outside the class 2 hours later-my mind wiped clean. Before I could consider the possibility of Alien Abduction, I was aware that I had in my hand the question paper I had supposedly attempted, with my verifiable doodles in it.

Next time, I will bring prep material and spend time with it like the smart sisters of my Boho fraternity. This analyzing thingy is best suspended till I can afford to spend time in it.

I am just a poor girl, nobody loves me -Bohemian girl rhapsody
(due apologies to the mortal remains of Freddie Mercury that turns in its resting place)
Rain

Office Romances

“The only thing more dull than waste management practices are your office anecdotes”, says my long-suffering sister. I couldn’t agree more; although I have had the privilege of not having to study a fine topic as the disposal of waste, I think I get the general idea behind her statement.

But Office anecdotes are all I have by means of a source of interaction with people.
By me, I mean the entire demography of people who are employed in software industry.
Looks like entire lives are shaped around the office. By lives, include personal/social lives in the list too.

Too busy to go out into the real world to find significant others and future spouses, most of them are content in scouring offices to look for potential mates. Anything from a common interest in JSP to having attended the same Personality Development Class can form a fertile ground for two to end up marrying.

Coffee breaks are ways to meet; pantries are the most romantic places in the campus. Any look at a person of the opposite sex for more than 29 seconds is taken as a “Haven’t I met you some place before…?”
If you are caught with a 30sec long look for more than 2 times, it means you are declaring lifelong love.

Needless to say that is why most people not looking for love incessantly end up staring only at the computer monitor enough to get their retinas detached.

I can find mine coming apart any time now.

In what seems like a very weird coincidence is that this past week, I have made eye contact with the same person in a frequency of about twice a day. In software terms its like I proposed. In the real world it would be something contrastingly innocent like that person walks in and out of the wing a lot and my cubicle is next to the wing’s only door, and I have this instinct of looking up when there is any sound.

When there is a group of people who can have inter-personal relations among themselves, there are bound to be some unwritten yet mandatory rules. Also a caste system. If you fall for someone who’s extremely far better qualified and in a high designation, your chances are very very abysmally low. There are cliques of the snobbish who in general don’t rub shoulders with your ordinary Joe or Jane Btech or BE. If Jane, looked like million bucks, then the rule is relaxed. But Joes are subject to rejections from the Clique women even if he bore a marked resemblance to Brad Pitt.

Romance within the upper caste cliques and the lower caste majority are of course welcome and in fact encouraged by the company management. One company gives a car as a gift when 2 employees sign a lifelong partner ship contract. Another gives one 3k when he/she gets married, thus getting 6K is a great inducer for office romances.
Coming back to my tale, X (the person I supposedly ‘stare’ at) is a Prince among the elite clique. He thinks he is doing his bit for the downtrodden women (like me) by smiling at us and trying to provoke us when he is in a slumming mood. X’s deeply touched by my feelings (unspoken) for him to the extent that he has taken to shaking his head sadly in slow motion whenever we see each other. Also he has taken into dealing with me via middle men or women. He’s trying in his way to gently discourage me in my doomed pursuit of him- Something entirely non-existent.

I am tired of this game playing. I would like to go up to him and say, “Buddy, I don’t find you irresistible in the very least. You are entirely safe with me.” But that would mean that I have to accept that I have given him cause to make him think that I am besotted with him. The very concept is calling upon my up-chuck reflex; I am down with fever and I do not want to part with the apple I consumed this morning.

If I ever do settledown (which everyone assures me will happen sooner to people who cry hoarse against marriage) I would definitely make sure that guy is so far away from software that he should think it had something to do with cuddy teddy bears. No wait, that would make him retarded/stuck in a time warp/clueless, or all three together.

So I’ll just settledown for someone who does something else for a living. But people like me are a minority. There is so much smoldering going on and intense chemistry that one would think they wrongly came between Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Some Karan Johar victim would probably say, love can happen anywhere, so why not the office?
Hmmm…think about this. You live with this guy, go to office with him, consume food and beverages with him, work with him, come back with him and the next day it’s the same thing all over again.

There is such a thing as too much time spent together or too much in common with one another. Needless to say (although I will say it) all this is my take on this thing.

There have been great successes and many failures.
No clear statistics to support either result as a norm.

So whoever finds love in the neighbouring cubicles, good for you.
And those that don’t, good for you too.

Hope this post wasn’t too Bridget Jonesy
Rain

PS: some bits of this post are exaggerations and put only to emphasize the appropriate point and any resemblance to anything actual in real life will only make it credible :p

Krishna

Happy Janmashtami All!! :)

The ultimate God, son, boyfriend, husband, father, teacher, friend, ally, statesman, politician,Warrior and King was born today, in more saintly times.
He taught that the material and the spiritual need not be mutually exclusive.

Learn from the life of Lord Krishna - Be Happy Always and do your job as best as you can!!!








Specially this goes out to Jay (the krishna bhakta version of her many gemini selfs)
Brinda (who has so many connections with the lord that she married Murali)
Vinodhini (the iyengar - hence the krishna connection)
Divya (God Bless you)

Everyone in the universe- May there be peace on earth.

Jai Sri Krishna

Short and sweet,
Rain

Irritants

These days I am the 'Angry not-so-young Woman'.
There may be a gazillion pithys, maxims and sayings for and against people will issues in keeping their volatile temper; but all of those don't serve one tiny little bit when you want to kill someone.

'If you let someone get to you...then its easy for them to win', said Niyas over cocktail exotica, the supposed blend of soft fruits which in reality, as he and I found, was just a fancy way of saying 'we mash bananas, serve it in a closed cup and make monkeys of you'. That made me very angry. By 'that' I mean the truth of his statement and the people who take my money and make me my own less evolved ancestor.

Ma says yoga would help. Tried to join a class, turns out (as my luck would have it), that the classes have been cancelled for the whole of this week. THis did not make me happy at all. (figures, right?...)

Root of anger is helplessness and/or disappointment. Both are caused by non-fullfillment of expectations- those that one has of himself and those he has from others.
I know causes to my anger and also that there is highly very little (sounded better than saying -nothing) that I can do to make things better.

THe cliched 'time heals all' is the only projection work looking at for now. If that also turns out to be junk like the rest of the sayings...yeah well I couldnt get angrier than I am now.

Pa says 'holidays heal the soul'. He is a very astute man. Lets hope my holiday over the coming long weekend gives me independence from my constant companions - irritation and anger.

Some wiseguys have long ago mentioned something to the effect of 'be angry and you'll screw everything up'- that is 100% true. I have enough testimonials from my life within the last 2 weeks to make a long-running mega serial over that theme.

Also, if someone says 'one day at a time' to me once again, it is to be taken that he/she has just uttered his/her last words. Don't say I didnt warn...

The highly belated disclaimer: If you are a sensitive, good person or a child apt to get scared soon or a pregnant woman or a heart patient who does not like bad vibes, you should not have read the post above.

Turning to the dark side of the force,
Barely holding on till better times arrive,
Rain

Childhood’s End

As a person who’s constantly in touch with her inner child, I am down with acute nostalgia and an overdose of reality with the removal of the last and most symbolic object of my childhood and teenage years – My blue cycle – Chetak.

She has been sent away to my pre-teen cousin in my native, for a new set of memories and feelings to be forged in. Apparently, I am too old to have my cycle (which I no longer use, but that is not the point).

Chetak belonged to an ancient family of the BSA SLRs, she is the last of her breed. In this age of her flashier, swankier and sleek cousins, she still remains a steady and unbreakable bicycle-an exhibit that in the days of yore, Indians built objects that did not bend, break, wither and die.

Even in the time when I wore pigtails,(back in 487857 BC) there was no other to match her uniqueness and antiquity. So most times I would not even bother to lock her at all. If at all any stranger were to accost her, that person would be more prone to leave a small and personal donation to the impoverished owner of such an excuse for a cycle rather than attempt to take her. That is what I call maximum security and peace of mind, also, the occasional money I found near her got me plenty of eatables. After all I belonged to parents who felt pocket money is something they keep in their pockets and let you peek at, occasionally, if you’ve been a good girl…

Chetak was named after the faithful horse of Rana Pratap, and I belonged to Pratap house when I got her. So you do the math. If it helps, Rana’s horse was so dark, it was thought to be of blue color.
I don’t know if I can compare to the Rajput King, but my cycle lived up to her name in a million ways. Can’t bring me another cycle that transported me across vast distances across water, sand, gravel and despite punctures, air leaks, flat tyres, rust and every other malady that could strike her species.

She had this distinct sound that cleared traffic in front of me and announced to my teachers, taking roll-calls inside and in the 3rd floor of my school premises, that I was pedaling down the turn, half a block away from the entrance.

Her load bearing capacity reached world renown as foreign tourists used to gape at the sight of a pudgy teenager, her bulky bag and even bulkier lunch bag cycling away with a plump child sitting behind with a plump bag and an even more plump lunch basket.

Once a physicist in a tourist group sat down to find out the mysterious forces that actually let Chetak make any forward movement at all, with the given conditions of gravitation and the mass and weight of the objects and people perched on her surfaces of contact. He sidetracked into the equation for the Improbability drive and was suddenly never heard from again…unless you are ready to take words of 3 headed squiggly eyed green guys from Tricylon 3 who say they know him.


So by now it would be established that my cycle was a symbol of my freedom and my spirit of exploration and adventure. She completed me.

Even when my sister was given a gorgeous StreetCat, and I was given an option to trade in Chetak for a newer bicycle, I chose to keep her and that was a very wise thing as I see it now. For one thing my sister’s cycle was stolen in a month and she was never given any replacement as punishment and secondly, because it shows to me that at my teenage, when most people are attracted to pretty things I was loyal to my unglamorous and ugly antique cycle.

My cycle and me have had a lovely run for 11 years and it’s been a blast. I will definitely miss the sight of her as I come into my house everyday, but I will let go.
Her time to move on has come.

Chetak left to Thanjavur today, to go to the not-so-welcoming arms of my cousin, who really does want a ‘Ladybird’ instead (the author starts to itch with an allergic reaction to anything so artificially cute). Maybe Chetak’s company will teach little cous that for the rewarding and memorable relationships – one has to see far beyond the shiny exterior. And I do hope she does not implement her plan to re-christen the cycle as ‘Pinky Sweety’, after the much maligned neighborhood dog.

Au revoir, Chetak and Godspeed.

Blue without you,
Rain

PS: Good Luck and Godspeed Vinoo, your childhood has ended too. Prove your might in the land of Stars and Stripes and don’t let them change your lovely self one-inch.

PS v1.0: Q: What is with most of objects of my affection leaving me?
Ans: Welcome to life, the dummies guide to dealing with loss; and still smiling…

Wake-up Calls

*************Personal Post Warning******************

“Life’s too short to be afraid
So take a pill to numb the pain
You don’t have to take the blame…”,
advises Robbie Williams; I beg to differ.

Today is a celebration to mark the start of the festival season (Aadi pirappu).
Began quite in the very opposite of spirits…with a nightmare of me trying to squeeze in some last minute studying for an exam for which I have NOT prepared. I was under such intense pressure in the dream that I got up gasping.
The last dream/nightmare I have ever remembered occured when I was 6. Since then I go to sleep and wake up in the morning…Today’s nightmare seemed a harbinger that set the mood for the day.

In my infinite wisdom, I‘ve decided to re-take CAT. The notice for the issue of bulletins for the exam came in today’s paper. (We take a couple of seconds to re-visit my nightmare)

Anyone can decide to do something. The gravity of that decision strikes one only when there is a half-page notice in all leading dailies and one’s supportive father chooses to highlight the amount of preparation that one has done for this exam that one had decided to take up a long time ago- Zilch. Nada. Squat.

Also the previous evening I booked my slot to take up Oracle Certification. You see, I have no challenges in life that suit my intelligence at all.

Inertia, routine, The Matrix, Maya...whatever it is; has me in its vice-like grip.

The 2nd wake-up-call came from Vinoo. She is leaving to pursue Advanced Research in Richmond by the end of this month. Last year-end the pact between me and her was that by July 2005 (which is now) I’d be in IIM and she’d be starting for her studies in the US.

Guess who did not/could not keep her side of the goal?

Also, she is the last of my close friends to go far far away and I will miss her so L
So by this month-end I will be friendless in Chennai, and if anyone says “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” once more, I will scream.

My posish is totally unenviable. I am at the very nadir in my own eyes. Anyone would say- You have nothing to beat yourself about..have a job, health and family. There are so many in the world without anything.

But you know what? I have the right to beat myself up black and blue. I will do it at any point when I feel I’ve not lived up to my expectations from myself. I will sulk and mope- It’s my party and I will cry if I want to…

It sure won’t solve anything, I know.

I have to go back to Pagalguy, to the materials and give a good performance in my Oracle exam – all the while continuing to do my best in office (I love my project-they’ve been so good to me)

I am going to have to do all of these things. There is nothing that anyone can do to help me here. Maybe lend moral support or inspiration, perhaps clear a doubt or two.

Niyas (who’s been mentioned in the blog after a year) will not be taking up CAT this year and is also too busy to play mentor like he did last time (God Bless him). So I am on my own now.

Sometimes I wonder, is there any point? Is it a waste of everyone’s time? Am I even destined for the future I wish for?

Appa has decided to be my jailor for the continuous 4th term in office (Once for Gre and twice for the previous 2 CATs)-whether I have anything to say about it or not.

It’s not a happy time for me. To say the very least.

Time to get pro-active and shake the crap out of the complacent universe I have created around my routine.

Winds of change are blowing my way; I am going to be up for whatever comes. Although I am hoping its something that will make me smile for life ;)
Die-hard Optimist
Rain.

War of the Worlds - out of this world

Take a look at this:


Take a novel so far ahead of its time, that its time has not yet come even in our time, from an author who can only be described as a pop-prophet; You then add 125 billion dollars, the magic of ILM and the one and the only Speilberg (I am not worthy!!) into the mixture... and what do you get?
THE WAR OF THE WORLDS

First things first, this is by no means an exact rendition of H.G.Wells' immortal classic. The movie takes place in our time. The eerie reminders of 9/11 are sprinkled throughout- The white dust that settles on the fleeing people, the crashed airoplanes, the stampedes and the panic...utter desparation in the faces.
No female leads, unless you count Dakota Fanning, who screams like a Banshee or glides by wraith-like and just looks on for all of the movie. The protagonist is NO HERO. In fact, he is more of an anti-hero. Ray (played by Tom Cruise) is an ordinary frightened-out-of-his-wits father, who just wants to take his children to Boston in safetly. He doesn't want to let his son, Robbie's need to pro-actively help to face the alien attack to affect that. Robbie, however, comes out the braver and the more put-together of the men. He asks his father to let go.

The cameo played by Tim Robbins is chilling. Short but leaves a deep impact of both his character as well as that of Ray's. A proof of what reasonable people will do to ensure the basic safety of their child even if for a short while. Killing becomes immaterial.

The world is finally not saved by a country, or by weapons or by the cleverness of men. Very credibly its saved by the inability of the Aliens to live in our world populated by the creatures that "God so thoughtfully put among us".

I would not credit this movie as the master's best-but this far exceeds the best presented by most.

Personal Note: The very next day of my watching the movie, there have been 4 serial blasts in London admist the G8 conference extravaganza taking place in the nearby Scotland. Al-Queda is believed to be behind this, will the war within our world ever end?