Atom bomb in a Papaya

Diwali was always special when we were kids for it was the only festival that packed the whole deal - school holidays, mom made special sweets, new clothes, new superstar movies and fireworks. Getting up early to burst individual bijilies however monotonous it sounds (that was a good pun eh?) was infinitely more rewarding and more interesting than having to get up early for, say, the Suryan poojai in Pongal. From a purely adrenaline point of view the other festivals were woefully short changed.(Side note - MS Word should get a Desi version. It tried to auto correct "Bijilies" to "Bikinis". Seriously. Abacharam.)

Unlike other festivals, Diwali alone had the unique distinction of getting started at least 10-15 days before the actual day.  

There was an elegant beauty to the sequence.

T minus 15 days - The Tape Gun games are the first. Oh how I miss those! Every year I used to cry, roll on the floor, plead, fight and get a new gun. The big box of "ammo" used to have 10 individual packages and each package used to have 10 rolls. Having one of these gave a deep sense of protection akin to Calvin making numerous snow balls.  Running around in the neighborhood with your friends,  shooting each other was a deeply satisfying and immensely enjoyable simulation of tactical urban warfare.

T minus 10 days - Then came the bijilies. These were cheap and numerous. So like the pawns on a chess game, these were the first to go without any remorse. The other "big" stuff had to be saved for the last. But Bijilies were my first experience with compounding items - tying up two or three or sometimes four of them together. Many of the bijilies also tended to fizzle out and so at the end of the day will be the paper-mat ritual where all dud ones are put on a paper and the paper is lit on fire. Nothing can go to waste after all, now can it?

T minus 6 days - Next in line were the slightly bigger crackers - the Kuruvis and the Krishnas. These were not the big guns but big enough to be treated with some consideration. These are taken out  5 -6 days before  Diwali.

T minus 3 days - Then it was time for the badass'es. The Lakshmis, the Netajis and the atom bombs. These were on limited supply, especially the atom bombs. Probably had only one pack of those. So these were carefully used and with utmost respect. Each pack of five was meticulously accounted for in the memorized stock list and every one of it made to burst. Duds were unacceptable - so every possible trick was use to ensure we get the bang for the buck. (that was a good pun too isn't it?)

T minus 1 day - The Eve! very special day as the first "night" crackers were burst that night. The night crackers are like the desserts of a meal. Expensive, exotic, available in limited quantity and saved for the last. The sparklers, flowerpots, chakras, snakes and pencils were all debuted that day.

T - the big day at last. This is the day for the exquisite ones - rock forts, double sounds and the one big lar/wala that was bought. It used to be a 200 or 300X one and it commanded the reverence of a nuclear warhead. It was special. very special. The entire family would bear witness to  this one. This was the Diwali highlight. The chief guest. The night was the eventful home stretch with the rest of the night stuff culminating with the rockets and a couple of exotic ones - like 5 bursts or parachute or butterflies.

It is fascinating to realize how Diwali, the most awaited days of my childhood has merely become just another festival.  It still retains the meaningful aspects of a festival of course  - about greeting people, catching the patti manram on TV, watching a new movie and spending time with family& friends. But I miss the Diwali high, the excitement, the glee and the joy of bursting crackers. The things adulthood finds itself handicapped to grasp. I guess age tempers itself with what we believe as acceptable behavior and this conditioning  is so subliminal that we don't realize that we are growing old and boring.

One of our favorite Diwali time custom activity was to take papayas (from the trees in the playground), drill a hole, squeeze an atom bomb, light it, run, hide behind the walls and trees and wait in anticipation with bated breath for the "frag grenade" to blow. When the bomb goes off in a glorious and colorful spray of papaya, my friends and I will be clapping, giggling and high fiving.

I certainly don't see myself or my friends doing that now.

The joy of childhood comes from equal parts of innocence and irreverence.

Diwali will always be special for no other festival lends itself so well for these childhood qualities  to be expressed, enjoyed and celebrated.

Diwali will always be special for no other festival reminds us of our childhood and the joy of childhood. And there, in the midst of this remembrance, lies our motivation to live & love like a child and hence our redemption.

Happy Diwali folks.

PS - While I did concede that I don't see myself putting an atom bomb in a papaya now, I have to be honest and confess that I still find the idea brilliantly fascinating. 

The Motley Pill - Origin Story

More often than not, I have judged my own hobbies. This erroneous tendency, growing in influence with age, akin to any of the small voices at the back of my head that tell me it is wrong to pick noses in public or that I shouldn't nibble my Tshirt, unfortunately has the uncanny ability to smell like wisdom and hence nurture itself with whatever scant resources available in the barren land of my mind.

A detour now. Astral trips or out of body experiences, while a subject matter of neuroscience and psychology, is, in a mild form, very easily achieved. Ever tried saying your name continuously for a few times? After a few seconds the name and the concept of self seems very alien, something that is terrifyingly liberating. It's too tempting to delineate what we are with what our name signifies - which is actually a lot, including our life, our career, our person as such. Pause at this moment. Try it out. Go stand before a mirror (if it helps), blank your mind and repeat your own name.  See what I mean? May be it doesn't work all the time. But I am sure each of us have gone through these moments of extreme lucidity, however short lived it may be, where we transcendentally realise and experience the insignificance of our lives. 

Carl Sagan's Pale Blue dot quote hits the spot like nothing else though his intention of the statement might have been different. No, you don't have to Google it. I like you. So here you go, the quote diligently copy pasted.

“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. -Carl Sagan.

and the point of this digression? the point is that there is no point in anything anybody does. So we should probably take ourselves a little less seriously. The pervasiveness of competition  in our lives is so complete and absolute that we don't even realize how our actions and thoughts are molded by it. 

It is sad that many of us aren't even comfortable talking about our hobbies. I realized this when I caught myself one day that I usually say "I read" when people ask me what I do with my time. It's not that I don't read, I do, but truth be told I should always say "I read and I watch movies and I play video games". It's just that subconsciously I have relegated watching movies to a "lesser" grade of a hobby.  It was stupid. So I have consciously corrected that in the last few days and this post is a continuation of that correction.

I love movies.

If I spend my hard earned money for something and/or my precious time and feel satisfied, contended and happy by doing so, it means I love it right? 

So as a record of my romance with movies I am starting my first movie blog. Your feedback and suggestions are sincerely solicited. :)

www.motleypill.blogspot.com

Our hobbies aren't what should make us cool or help us woo or make us social celebrities. Our hobbies simply have to make us happy. Our hobbies should give us an avenue to independently and harmlessly rejuvenate ourselves. Our hobbies should give us an sanctuary to hide from life's grind and turmoil. And it doesn't matter what it is. Some travel, some dance, some sing, some play, some cook, some talk, some sleep, some read, some watch, some browse...doesn't matter.  

We are, after all,a mote of dust on a mote of dust.

Should take pride in what gives us happiness. As Nicolas Cage once wisely said... ..."that's the secret to survival. Never go to war. Especially with yourself."

Orkut

Haven't written in a long while now.  Why, I ask myself and find the other part of me scratching its head in an unabashed display of denial and sham.

Here I was, in the gambling-void Las Vegas of Middle east, killing time browsing, having already eaten my fabulously delicious and unhealthy ready-to-eat dinner, when in a sudden burst of nostalgia, decided to check out Orkut as I vaguely remembered a news article mentioning that the service is being discontinued.

As much as I hate to admit it, it was simultaneously a feeling of joy and depression, not unlike a dark comedy from the Coen brothers. And why do I hate to admit it? Because I didn't think Orkut of all things can evoke such strong emotions. The voice inside my head went "duh..really?".

It is so because it made me realize that the old life, the college days, the feeling of innocence and arrogance and self righteousness that lend itself only to youth, the age of camaraderie, the  joy of friendships unadulterated with any kind of anxiety and the gut wrenching laughter are things of the past. It  made all of it seem distant and surreal, like the pictures found on a long lost photo album, like the memory of a mostly forgotten story that we made our mom tell us when we were 5 years old, like the vague remembrance of our childhood house and....like Orkut.

yeah. I used "youth" in the past tense. Well I feel old and those days seem long gone.

Going through the photos and "scraps" and "testimonials" was actually a very poignant experience. . I saved the archive in fear of losing  this. I suggest you do it as well. (Well, if you are actually reading this, you are probably a good friend of mine and that is probably the only reason you are reading this. So consider this my request).

In fact, once I finish writing this, I will put this in Facebook. And that's what Facebook has become - a news feed. I actually miss Orkut or rather the age it symbolises for me. The countless arguments and discussions and long chats and longer mails that I have had with some of the most wonderful people seem like exorbitant luxuries considering the dearth of fun, carefree moments where I am myself and there is no more agenda other than the simple enjoyment of conversation, in the last few years. I have grown up and so have my friends. Each mired in what we call our lives.

But I also recognize that the warmth and bond is pretty much undiminished when I get to meet or talk to these people on these rare celestial events. That is very heartening to realise though. The wit, the banter and the jokes flow freely when amongst them. It's almost like that part of me is still alive. Probably within all of us. And it feels good to revisit that self.

and why didn't I write? Why haven't I  been able to keep in touch with the people I would want to? why I talk to my best friends on freaking Whatsap once in a blue moon?  Why don't I write a beautiful handwritten letter to my loved ones? Why don't I do the things that I really like? I guess it's partly because I meekly accept defeat to what I make up to be my life, partly because I assume everyone is very busy  including myself, partly because of the feeling that everybody has their own lives now and partly because all of these reasons are actually true.

Then why am I suddenly writing now? I guess it's that optimistic rebellious part of me expressing itself -reaching out to the unreachable past, attempting to relish this life, feeling joy for what has been good, showing respect to what has been tough, vowing to live in my terms and being thankful for all the people & memories that I have known & made and doing what I like,  in spite of knowing full well that this part of me will smother itself to death by probably tomorrow morning in a glorious display of shortsightedness, fallacious setting of priorities and a spectacular inability to distinguish between what is important and what seems important,

Well, what can I say..it still feels good, while momentary and ethereal it may be.

But then, what is not?

Reminders

I was late.

I was supposed to get up at 530am. I got up at 6. The call with my colleagues went longer than expected. I tried to cook for the first time, of all days, today. (Not much – Boiled some frozen veggies, toasted two slices of bread, added chilli flakes, oregano, the veggies and ketchup and made a sandwich Tada! – That’s one step for a cook and a giant leap for me.)

First difference – Why in the Kailasam doesn’t this place have these small dosa parotta stalls that are so common back home? There was one right up in my street. Huh. And why can’t the cute things called chillies be used in something in some form? Why this partiality against a vegetable class? My heart goes out to the neglected family.

So anyway, I was late. And I had to catch a bus.

Second difference – I don’t have my bike here. My adorable old green bike. You know the feeling that one gets when he/she has broken up (well I don’t know that feeling but I am guessing how it would be) with his/her whatever-the-appropriate-noun. Well anyway, I have that feeling about my bike. It’s like I broke my relationship with her, abandoning her with wanton hard heartedness but still longing for her. I am sorry my bikey. I now know your value. Sobs. Hope you will accept me back. Give me one more chance. I will be a better person. Sobs.

Third difference – There are no autos. Not even shared ones. Seriously. Can you believe that? No taxis. No rickshaws. Nothing. You know the feeling when you are completely, and I mean completely, at the mercy of someone that we feel paranoid and uncomfortable even though there are no warranted reasons to feel so but just because we are completely dependent on the thing? That is what I feel about the public transport system.

Fourth difference – The buses are fascinatingly infrequent. For the first time in my life I have taken a print out of a public transport bus service schedule, stuck it to the wall and go by it. In fact I am collecting data about this everyday – times of services, the variance and standard deviation of arrival times, walking speed etc. I am hoping to optimize my waiting time at the bus stop. Typical operations research exercise. I am actually excited about it. Wheeee! If the sarcasm was lost on you, I am merely pointing to the irony of a common man needing to do operations research to use the bus service.

Fifth difference – Quarters! No no...not whiskey or rum. Coins. Every satandamned machine here needs quarters. And the bus will eat only one dollar bills or quarters. Where in Osama’s beard am I supposed to get so many quarters? (and the washing machine and drier compete for your precious quarters as well). So I am hurriedly collecting coins from my purse and bag and stuff and every other silly stupid coin is there. What am I supposed to do with these pennies and dimes anyway?

Sixth difference – The pavements to walk on? They are just awesome. And almost all the houses have well maintained lawns AND so many people walk their dogs and the dogs are just lovely. The houses? They look so adorable. You know like a baby boy decked up in a suit with a bow? Or the strip in which Calvin has his hair combed for a picture? And somehow many of the houses have a fairy tale-ish quality to them.

So I was walking briskly down the pavement to the bus stop. There is a bus at 8.27 am. Time on my watch was 8.23. It would take one more minute for me to reach the end of my street where it joins a main road on which the stop is located. And I know the bus would come in between 820 to 835. And I was hoping that the bus hadn’t come early. I was almost running now. I was able to see the road. Just a few seconds away. And the bus passed my street. CRAP. I was running now. There was a chance that I can still catch it. And I turned the corner and I was running and I was a few steps away when the bus just started (which means the doors were already closed) and I was running out flat now but I knew I have missed it. As I stopped and sighed, cursing and wishing that maybe I could have gotten up one min earlier, I saw the bus stop (that was not a pun. I meant that the bus stopped and not the bus-stopJ)!!! I went up to the bus and the door opened and the driver, an African American middle aged woman who always gives a big smile and says a warm good morning every day, was smiling at me (Think she recognizes me because I am the only one who gets on at this stop and I had taken her bus -the 8.27am one- without fail for some days). She said “I was wondering where you were and then saw you running”.

I don’t know why or how but it did feel really happy. Then she was talking with me all the way till the stop I get down. Irrespective of the country or city, there are always some nice people, there are always things to feel good about, and there are always reasons to smile.

Aaaand I missed home so much that day. I missed my city. I missed my people.

It’s not the sad things, the irritation of not understanding the new system, the inconvenience of not having my bike or the lack of spicy food that makes me miss home. Many of these things feel good in retrospect and its nice enjoying the differences.

It’s the love, affection and warmth shown by people here that makes me miss home more. Because in that moment, in that elation of feeling happy and safe as I stand basking in somebody’s caring gesture, my mind tells me how exponentially more gratifying and meaningful I would feel when I am reveling in the affection of my own loved ones.

In that fleeting trance, mind gallops across the sweeping landscape of memories, stirring up, like dust under the hooves of an unicorn, images and words and laughs and hugs and smiles, all of which swirl and entwine in a psychedelic union that reveals itself in a simple unrevealing long silent longing sigh.

Love reminds us of love like nothing else.

I miss you guys.

All of you.

Sin

I wanted to write this some days back when I was mighty miffed at something. But then I knew I had no right to be pissed at the thing that did piss me off. But then such discretion is only useful as an afterthought, as an argument, as a disclaimer. Nothing more. Because knowing that is not making me any less pissed. But then anyway I decided not to dwell on it.

But something about it kept bothering me. You know, sometimes there is this nagging presence which disappears when we try to look at it directly? Something like that. Something was troubling about the whole thing.

Anyway let me get to the primary thing.

So the Valentine’s Day came and went...Blah blah. Guess a lot of things were bought and gifted as gestures of goodwill / affection or desperate attempts to impress, so on and so forth.

So let’s ask a question. What do we gift people?

Hmmmm... Not a big list isn’t it. Pens, watches, bags, clothes, jewellery, vouchers, etc...

So do you think it makes any sense to gift pups? It doesn’t now does it?

There was an article in a leading newspaper about how pups which were gifted by boyfriends/girlfriends to girlfriends/boyfriends for Valentine’s Day end up as stray dogs after some days because the person didn’t feel like wanting it or care for it after some days.

Pups are not commodities.

Pups are not stuffed toys.

Pups are not branded and do not come with a customer service hotline.

Pups cannot be put in a showcase.

Pups are not like gift vouchers which can be redeemed later.

I feel it is an extremely stupid thing to do. To gift a pup. Having a pet is as much a big decision as having a new family member isn’t it?

I thought - “But then the one who gifts can use some common sense before choosing a gift. Or maybe the receiver can at least have the prudence to say no to such a gift if they don’t think they can take care of the pup. Well anyway, so what is the big deal? There are so many street dogs anyway”.

And there ended my momentary irritation caused by reading that article.

But then something was amiss in the whole thing.

Happiness is a curious thing. I don’t know whether I have mentioned this name earlier but there is this guy Daniel Gilbert who wrote this popular science book about happiness. Yes. Science book. About happiness. Go read it if you are interested. Well anyway, in it there is this mention about these Siamese twins who rated their happiness pretty high. And when normal people were asked to comment on it, the general feedback was that it’s not possible. “Simply impossible. How can two people physically joined together be happy?”. But the truth is, they were actually, in the full sense of the word, happy. And it was so because happiness is a function of our past experiences. The Siamese twins rated their happiness in their true scale. They never knew what it feels like to be individuals and have that freedom. Qualitatively their happiness is as much joyous and as much meaningful as any of ours. Our judgement of our happiness is dependent on our collective memories and experiences and learnings.

Pups are sentient beings. Like us. Beautiful word. Sentient. Means that the entity is endowed with the capacity to feel and perceive. It is not the fact that they end up as stray dogs that is unfair. But the fact that they were cuddled, fed, shown affection and THEN thrown away. And poor things they won’t even know what wrong they did because they didn’t do any. And I don't know for how long they will keep longing for what they momentarily experienced. That IS unfair isn’t it?

And thinking about it, I suppose we are capable of doing that to even fellow humans.

Dogs? Ha. Ha. Ha.

Entha moolaiku.

To show affection and then discard someone for no mistake of theirs, I guess is one the biggest sins we can do.

God save us.

Valentine's Day

Having worked in projects related to optimizing search engine marketing and click through rates and the kind, I thought having the blog title as “valentine’s day” might attract traffic J.

No. It was not a complete ruse to lure you here. I am not that wily. What I am going to write is related to it.

A brief background on why I wanted to write something related to Valentine’s Day. A couple of days back during my usual quick fly through the Hindu I came across this week’s Nxg supplement. And no prizes for guessing, this week’s main focus was the V day. There was this page where people were explaining their versions or views of what relationships are or how relationships should be. I was going through them with the usual “wow this will be fun” attitude and then I got blown away! One 11^th or 12^th standard school kid was talking about relationships. I remember my school days. I remember me discussing exams and subjects and movies and syllabus and videogames but satandammit! I don’t remember talking about relationships. As far as I remembered, I don’t think I even knew what “relationship” is per se then. In fact I was explained what are the different “bases” just a couple of weeks ago (if you don’t know it either, trust me, it is not worth knowing it now because you are only going to look like a dumbass) and what are the different stages in the commitment spectrum just a couple of days ago. And I couldn’t help feeling like a failed student. Terrible. In fact it is terrible because I wanted to say something too when a school kid can say about it. Yeah. Ego. Definitely. And so I decided I am going to put something on my blog about Valentine’s Day and in fact created a word doc with that as the name. Opened the doc and the cursor was blinking and I was waiting for a flood of words to simply course through my fingers from my mind, words that will give some profound insight into relationships and I was waiting.. and then...

I was waiting some more.

Mmmmmmmm

I saw a mosquito buzzing which came and sat on the monitor.

Hmmmmmmmmm

Drawing on my immense –experience-rich-profound life of 2.4 decades...well... actually I couldn’t draw anything.

I swatted the mosquito away.

Pffffffffffftttt.

And a small voice on my mind was also nagging me saying “what are u doing instead of finishing that library book like you planned to?” That is when I realised why I am not qualified to write about relationships because even if I could write it will be theory, which I have realized over time, would earn me the look that ranges from the condescending - “oh you poor naive ignorant boy” to the angry-“shut up about things you don’t know about”. Even though I can strongly hold my fort when it comes to an argument, I have learnt that it is not wise to argue against battle hardened experience with home grown ideologies that are not even put to test.

So I closed this doc, started my favourite playlist in the media player and went to bed and started reading “the graveyard book” by Nail Gaiman. Interesting book. It’s a children’s book though. And as usual I was singing in full volume along with the laptop which would have driven the laptop insane if it had been a person. And then I knew what I can fill that doc up with. J

Without reading further if you had guessed what I am going to write, then tell me and I will get you an ice cream.

And I can write them without even thinking much because it is one of those things that I am relatively good at remembering and in fact I have indeed discussed these things at school and college. Ah. Finally something is making me feel better than a failed student...phew

Yes. Lyrics.

So following is a small fractional collection of my favourite lyrics from the Tamizh film industry. I know. I wish I were multi lingual. But anyway regrets aside, I am still motivated enough to translate them into English J . Obviously it loses its shine when it’s translated because I am not that good in both the languages and some phrases are unique to the language. And certain metaphors cannot be captured with the same succinctness. And the rhyme will be missed too. But I will do my best. And yeah, you can be really thankful to me in case you didn’t know Tamizh and you enjoyed the lines anyway. And in case you didn’t, still be thankful to me because I took the pains to do it. I won’t mind it. ;)

Get ready. You would probably not be enthralled at the end but you can try and be anyway.

I am going to do a countdown of the 10 best lines (according to me of course) that came in some form of a romantic song because...ahem...afteral...the blog title is “Valentine’s day”... And I am going to specifically not choose the guy-describing-the-girl/girl-describing-the-guy/ loss-sad-melodramatic side of things (though some of the best lines are used in melodrama).

Considering only the positive-hopeful- feel-good sunny-side lines with some ponder-able value to it.

And the ranks are specifically for the particular lines. (not the song or the movie)

Rank 10************************************************************************

Song: Irumbile oru Ithayam

Movie: Enthiran

“Unnaale than en vithigazhai maranthen......”

“Because of you, all my rational rules and self imposed discipline got screwed...”

Why: For using science fiction to showcase the simple truth that all rationality breaks down before emotionality

Rank 9************************************************************************

Song: Thavaminri kidaitha varam

Movie: don’t know

“Ni suriyan naan vennila, un ozhiyaal thane vazhgiren; ni suriyan naan thaamarai, ni vanthaal thane malargiren; ni suriyan naan van mugizh, ni nadanthidum paathai aagiren; ni suriyan naan aazh kadal, en madiyil unnai enthinen”

“You are the sun, I am the moon- I live by your light; You are the Sun, I am the lotus – I bloom only when you rise; You are the Sun, I am the Cloud – I am the path you tread on; You are the Sun, I am the Deep sea – I protect you in my embrace”

Why: For sheer metaphoric value

Rank 8 ************************************************************************

Song: Elangathu

Movie: Pithamagan

“ulagathil ethuvum thanichu ilaye...kuzhalil ragam malaril vaasam servatha pola”

“nothing in this world is singular by design.. like tune fusing with the bamboo, like fragrance fusing with the flower”

Why: For brilliantly explaining the proposition of inevitable pairing

Rank 7************************************************************************

Song: uruguthey maruguthey

Movie: Veyil

“Saami parthu kumbidum bothum, nithaane nenjil iruke”

“Even when I am praying looking at the God, you fill my heart”

Why: For describing the collateral shifting down of all other priorities and belief systems in the light of love, in a religious yet sacrilegious way

Rank 6************************************************************************

Song: nenjukuley innaru nu

Movie: Sinthamani

“ulagey azhinthalum un uruvum azhiyathey..uyirey pirinthalum uravethum piriyathey”

“Even if the world is annihilated your form would not..Even if life untwines (from the body) (our) bond would not”

Why: For efficient usage of technically-not-feasible-convictions to portray one’s ardent loyalty

Rank 5************************************************************************

Song: Manjazh veyil maalai ithey

Movie: Vettaiyado villayadu

“ulagathin kadaisi naazh indruthaano enbathu pol, pesi pesi theertha pinbum etho ondru kurayuthey”

“Even after conversing like it is the last day of the world, it feels like something is still missing”

Why: For glorifying conversations in a profoundly simple way

Rank 4 ************************************************************************

Song: Paravaye engu irukirai

Movie: Tamizh MA

“kadhai pesi kondey vaa kaatrodu povom...urayaadal theernthaalum un mounangazh pothum”

“Come lets go with the wind, exchanging stories...even if we use up “conversation”, your silence is enough”

Why: For glorifying silence in an innocently elegant way

Rank 3 ************************************************************************

Song: Kanmani anbodu kadhalan

Movie: Guna

“endhan kadhal enna vendru sollamal yenga yenga azhugai vanthathu..enthan sogam unnai thaakkum endrennum bothu vantha azhugai ninrathu”

“As I longed to convey my love, the delay kept adding to my woes drawing tears..but when the thought that my sadness might affect you rose , my tears stopped”

Why: For using an interesting self referential, seemingly perennial, logical loop

Rank 2************************************************************************

Song: Kannukulley unnai veipen kannamma

Movie: Pennin manathai thottu

“ni anbai parkum parvayile en jeevan vazhuthadi..ni atharavaga thozh sainthaal en ayuzh neezhuthadi”

“My soul is sustained on your affection laden glance...my lifespan increases when you supportingly rest on my shoulder”

Why: For poetic brilliance and powerfully emotional statements

Rank1************************************************************************

Song: Nenjukkul peidhidum

Movie: Varanam Ayiram

“enodu vaa veedu varaikum , en veettai paar ennai pidikum”

“Accompany me to my home, see my home and you will like me”

Why: For it is the kind of line that I might say if I have to convince a girl. Ahem: shy: blush:

I did think it over. Whether this deserved the first rank. (And it’s my blog. Duh...my decision...ppbbrrr)...It has no poetic value. No great metaphors or similes. Not exactly eulogising affection or emotion. And then I thought, probably that’s why this deserves the first rank. It is the most pragmatic thing to say isn’t it? Establishes the fact that the male protagonist is serious about his feelings, that he is someone who is close to his family that he keeps no secrets from them and that he is so sure of his family’s good nature (this is important for as the saying goes people marry each other’s family right?).

“Oh...such a beautiful house. You selected such a talented architect and mesthri. I am going to like you”... No...That is not the expected reaction from the female protagonist. It’s the other meaning..You know....about how the family would shower affection and a feeling of good heartedness that would get the female protagonist bowled, alleviating her fears that the guy’s family might be schizophrenic psychopaths. But then, as long as the objective is successful, it doesn’t matter how something works right?

****************************************************************************

So that’s it folks. Thanks for your time. May be you can use these lines if you are stuck somewhere in your endeavours. J Happy Valentine’s Day.

Oh, rats... there has to be some message right... hmm...ok...

Irrespective of what you are, single/committed/married / “its complicated” / “looking for friends”, whenever things seem low, whenever things seem bleak, whenever the world looks like a hurtful place.........remember Super Star’s punch “kidaikirathu kidaikama irukathu..kidaikama irukarthu kidaikathu” and then play counter strike/ read some novels/study for some exam/ watch some TED videos/ browse Wikipedia/ and get a good night’s sleep. The next day, the world would automatically seem a sunny place.

**Tadaaaa!***

Sanctuary

Sanctuary

1. A consecrated place where sacred objects are kept

2. Area around the altar of a church for the clergy and choir; often enclosed by a lattice or railing

3. A shelter from danger or hardship

A shelter from danger or hardship. The third meaning is what instinctively comes to me whenever I think of the word. Besides I had no idea about the second one. And me being someone who claims to like biology as a subject and who had also liked geography when he had it as a subject in his schooldays (I think the last sentence is kind of wrong. Using third person reference to myself. Is it grammatically correct? Anyway it was pleasurable. So I am going to let it be without referring to Wren and Martin) the first words I associate with the word “sanctuary” are “bird”, “tiger”, “lion”, {*.animalclass. }

The first time I actually got interested in the word was after watching the movie “Lemony Snicket’s A series of unfortunate events”. Brilliant film. Brilliant cast. Brilliant Jim carrey. Brilliant theme. May be the story as such and the screenplay had elements of fantasy in it, but the essence of the characters were tangible enough for the concept of the movie to get through our ..ahem...my thick skull. The movie was about how we can build our own sanctuaries, wherever we want, whenever we want, where we can be safe and warm.

That was a long time ago. A lot of movies ago.

Then it struck me one day. In the most unexpected place. I will get to it. So after that it kept coming to me now and then. Of course all out of context but somehow it was related, out of context or not. It happens you know, like sometimes something unrelated comes to our mind when thinking about something. But I suppose it is not always off tangent though it might seem so. There is always some link, some obscure thread joining them which by itself would make a lot of sense. Like a metaphor. I suppose it sounds weird but yes what I am saying is that sometimes the metaphor would be tangible while how it builds the meaning of the target concept may not be so. (In terms of Tamizh grammar I am saying that the “uvamai” may make sense but how it relates to the “uvameyam” may be clouded.) But the real ingenuity of our mind is exhibited in the fact that this seemingly unrelated comparison is actually conjured up by itself which is undeniable proof that within its (that is, the mind’s) context it should be making sense somewhere, linked by something in its collective memories, opinions and logic.

Getting up suddenly in the middle of the night for some reason and recognising my home’s bedroom

Some random stranger telling me, while I am driving, that my bike’s stand is up

A professor telling me exasperatedly that it’s high time I realised the importance of aesthetics.

A friend, telling me, when I unintentionally put everyone in an silly situation and apologised for it, that it’s not needed because they know that I don’t mean harm

Getting wished on my birthday.

The unexpected, sudden dawn of appreciation for the lyrics of a familiar song

Somebody feeling exactly the same way I do about something

Somebody feeling exactly the opposite about the same thing but agreeing to my point for my sake

Crying for a scene in “I am Sam”, “Forrest Gump”, “The bucket list” and so on (there...there...I caught myself)

Happening to see a deaf and dumb couple, happy, smiling and talking affectionately to each other in sign language, while I am walking back home on a cloudy day.

Close ones imitating me

Missing somebody

I don’t know whether the list made any sense. It doesn’t, completely, to me. But these are just random things that I associate with the word.

It came to me on a train journey. I am travelling alone with home as the destination. I am having this side berth with a curtain. Long journey. Afternoon. Everybody in the compartment seems asleep. I close the curtain. I am sitting, my head propped up on the pillow. Book in my hand. Music in my ears. The A/C compartment’s tainted glass is coloring the sun light yellow. I am having no meaningful thought in my head, but in a moment, I felt my mood soaring, a feeling of contentment that comes from smug satisfaction infusing through my semi asleep consciousness, a feeling of safety that everything is fine with this life and the world. I am going home and everything else merely details.

Sanctuaries are all around us in the form of friends and family and good hearted people and beautiful things.