My saga with the City – ‘MADRAS’ : continues

Let us see some histrionics of this city, fondly called ‘Madras’ and then an incident that happened with me when I first got to Madras.

The Madras city is one of the oldest and the capital of the state Tamil Nadu in India. It the country's fourth-largest city. It is located on the Coromandel Coast of the Bay of Bengal. It has an estimated population of 7.45 million by the 2005 census. This city of Madras is the 367 year old city and is the 34th largest metropolitan area in the world.

The beautiful city of Madras was founded in the year 1639 when the English or the British brought it from Naicker. In the year 1640, the foundation of Fort St. George was laid and it still stands today as one of the important landmarks in the city of Madras or so called Chennai city. In the year 1679 the St. Mary’s church was completed and stood erected, a year later the Madras City Municipal Corporation was inaugurated and the first place to be annexed to this city is Triplicane. So, triplicane is the oldest place of the city.

The city has seen being invaded by the French, Dutch, and British at regular periods of time and history is evident of these facts. But not only these people the great king Hyder Ali Khan who proved a treat to the British in the South have also tried to invade Madras in the 18th century and due to his victories and a few other Nawab’s we can see the mosques erected in and around the old city.

Madras has the longest coastline of 12 kilometers and the Marina beach, which is an important tourist spots in the city, is the second largest beach in the world. The beach begins at Fort St. George in the north and ends at Besant Nagar in the south. The beach has stone statues that adorn the roadside area of the beach. The Statue of Labor is of great significance on this beach and it one of the known landmarks in the city. The beach holds the memorials of M. G. Ramachandran and C. N. Annadurai, former Chief Ministers of Tamil Nadu. This city is accessible by all ways of transport, such as road, water, air and train.

Talking of travel, I am reminded of an unforgettable episode of mine. I already have told you I came to madras when I was studying in seventh standard and at that time, the Tamil I knew was very little limited to the basic requirements of the man, such as food and water.

My childhood started in Calcutta, so was forced to a common language and was driven to speak in English and the other option of language was Hindi of which I just beginning to learn. In home, both my parents being educated there was no necessity to speak in language that I wasn’t used to. So the usage of my mother tongue, Tamil was reduced maximum and knew very few words, such as amma, appa, thanni, pasikithu, naan pogannum, vidu, po, va...etc.

I could not make out complicated sentences and usage of verbs and consonants, so I knew very little or meager in Tamil.

Being in a Central Board Syllabus Education and thanks to Kendriya Vidhayalaya (KV), my second language was Hindi and the scope of learning my mother tongue got ruled out very early[I really regretted later of not having learnt my mother tongue!!!]. I got transferred to a KV in Madras and happily, I and my sister started to new school, new environment, new people, new teachers, everything new.....

It being the first day to school, my dad who was in the Central Government job and the head of an institution head dropped us in school in his official jeep. Since, we did not own a vehicle then and said he would come to pick us up in the evening after school.

With no such information of my dad’s phone number or address of my house in my little brain and the responsibility of my sister, I felt proud in my mind and tried to handle the situation with great charm and addressable nature set to my first day.

My school was in a place called Pazhavanthangal, and the name of the school was Kendriya Vidhayalaya (KV), Meenambakkam right opposite to the runway of the International Airport in Madras. From my school we could see several aircrafts taxing on the runway before takeoff and while landing. We in school during our Physical Training sessions used to sometimes stand watching it from our play ground.

It was a Saturday, the day we (I and my sister) went to school and it was a second Saturday of the month and as a rule at that time they had half-day school and during my school days eventually the second Saturday got declared as a holiday.

We both were in school and it being the first day we did not know what to do and with all new things got lost in its mystery and were like frightened chickens. All classes went well with introductions to the Class teacher and other subjects and I hated that day as I had to often stand and repeat every piece of information to every other teacher.

The last class of the day was Chemistry class. It is part of the subject called SCIENCE and the three parts of the subject such as, Physics, Chemistry, and Biology was handled by three teachers who internally managed the class schedule.

I stood and explained my story to the chemistry teacher Lalitha, as well and when I finished she asked me the intelligent question, “Do you know your way back to your house?”

I just stood there looking at her wide-eyed knowing not what to say, after a minute I managed to say, "Yes, maam, I know my dad will come in the evening after school.”

She started laughing and I wondered why, in fact got irritated by her laughter, thinking in my mind why is she laughing? She very cleverly said, “You don’t know today is second Saturday and the school works only for half-a-day, as if an intelligent and possible discovery by her.”

I told her, “OK, I will leave by afternoon then.”

She said, “I appreciate your braveness, child. But how will you go?”

I told her, “Maam, if you tell me how to go from here I will go by myself, no problem. Otherwise I will ask somebody and then go.”

I don’t know what she felt in her mind she said; “You are really a brave girl. And addressed the class and said, look at her, she does not know the place and still she is not afraid, you should all be like her. Be brave.” I felt happy at her words but I did not know how I will be able to do that but somehow thought I will be able to do. I just relied on my internal guts.

Then she asked my mother tongue and she started speaking to me in Tamil. I told her I can’t understand much Tamil, at which she really kept hand at her hand and said, “Iyoo Rama.” She asked me if I had some money to return home, I said no. Then again, she said another “Iyoo Rama.”

She asked me to come to the staff room after the class for money and then leave. I had no clue of which buses go or how to go...somehow I knew from the fragment of conversations between my mom and dad that the place where we stayed was called Ekkaduthangal.

I did not want to go and ask her for money, so I asked a girl or boy not sure, next to me for some money. I promised him/her to return it the next day. Nobody gave me; at last one small girl from the last bench came forward and gave me One Rupee coin.

I did not know how much will the ticket cost...anyhow I took it from her and thanked her for the money and informing my teacher I started my journey to home along with my sister.

We reached the bus stop, my sister started crying and she was afraid how we will go. I kept assuring her that we will ask every other bus that stops at this place if it goes to Ekkaduthangal and then climb in and go. I kept her spirits high, talking to her.

Then a bus stopped, it was named 18N. I asked the conductor if this bus will go to Ekkaduthangal and he said, ‘Yes’. I helped my sister get in and then got in and found a place and sat there. Then the conductor called for tickets then I went to him and asked him for a ticket to Ekkaduthangal. He asked me how many? I said, ‘One...’then he asked me for your sister, I told him she is a small child so no ticket for her.

At this the conductor laughed and said no you have to buy for her also. I said, ‘Oh! ‘He started saying something in Tamil and I said I don’t understand Tamil.

He asked me my mother tongue, I told him and he said, “Tamil ponnu anna Tamil theriyathu....”
Everyone in the bus laughed and he said, ‘For the tickets it is 0.75p + 0.75p, you have to give me Rs 1.50ps’

At this I really got scared and said, in whatever language I could manage that I had only One rupee and he kindly took that rupee and asked me will I give him the change tomorrow. I told him yes and also asked him to show me the stop. He said, ‘yes, he will.’

Then after we got down, we went home and narrated this to my parents and other relatives as well and I became a hero [oops...heroine] in my house.

PS: The next day the same conductor was in the bus and I offered him the 50ps he took it and said, “Thank you, for the help you did yesterday.” I did not know if he understood what I said but he attempted to talk to me in English after that for few days....

I happened to live there after so many years in a place called Nanganallur, which is excatly the other side of Pazhavanthangal and whenever I used to pass my school the first thing that comes to my memory is this very day of school.

My saga with the City – ‘MADRAS’

The city that we all now know as Chennai is fondly remembered by me as ‘Madras’ and people who belonged to the city before the years of 1996 would also like to refer it to ‘MADRAS’.

The name Madras is from the word Madraspattinam, a fishing village that lay to the north of Fort St. George. History has a lot of confusions as to what is the origin of the name, what its name should be and what it is to be called, whatever this place of Tamilnadu is to be called, I do not care and will always call this place of my life as Madras and will still love it being called by this name.

The reason of change from Madras to Chennai has been connoted to many historical reasons such as the name Chennai is etymologically derived from Chennapattinam or Chennapattanam. When the British landed here in 1639 A.D. it was said to be part of the empire of the Raja of Chandragiri. The British named it Chennapatnam after they acquired it from Chennappa Nayaka, a Vijayanagar chieftain. [source: Wikipedia]

The first instance of the use of the name Chennai is said to be in a sale deed dated August 1639 to Francis Day, an agent for the British where there is a reference to Chennaipattinam. But as you see, History is history and who is bothered about history.

My major part of my life has been in Madras and it has seen me grow into a beautiful lady with a unique combination of brains and beauty [Sorry!! People could not avoid blowing my trumpet]. I came to madras when I was in 7th standard of my schooling and had been in this city till my under graduation and had loved every minute of my stay in this city.

I had seen the growth of the city along my growing years, the traffic, the roadways, the railways; the aviations, the buildings, the streets, the people, everything and I carry various fond memories of this city.

Even before I came to live in this city my relational with this city dates back to the days when I had to travel from Calcutta (now Kolkata) by the then only Howrah-Madras Coromandal Express and get down at Madras and take the Kovai Express to my hometown, Salem during my holidays from school.

I never knew at that time that I would be in the city for several years but even at that small age had a wonderful feeling of this place Madras, as it was close to my hometown at an about 4 and 1/2 hours from Madras.

I remember sitting in the train Coromandal express and ask my dad, how far is Madras even after knowing the fact that it was about 2 days journey to Madras. He used to patiently, tell me the time and show me the various stations that we pass through and to keep me quite he used to make me memorize the station names that we passed through and I still vaguely remember those stations and how they looked.

It was quite a journey those days; we used to carry homemade food to avoid eating outside food for at least by a day, with lots of homemade snacks such as murrukku, laddoo, adirsam, poli, all possible things and the bags used to be in huge numbers.

It was also fun buying and savoring food that were sold like jilabies, samosas, vadas, mango jellies, coffee, tea, and it looked like every other vendor saw a promising buyer looking at my wide open eyes of the tray of food passing by.

It was all fun travelling like that….that is how I picked my habit of reading at a very young age. I used to make a hue of cry if I was not given my quota of Amar Chitra Katha’s and Tinkle, the comic books with stories about Indian heritage, Mythology, stories of moral, Fables, Panchatantra, Motivating stories of animals …it was fun reading them and narrating it my little sister who was very young and could only comprehend of half of what is said.

Lot more interesting tales of this city along with my experiences of the city is to be shared with all the people who fondly call Chennai, Madras….Nalla[good] Madras.

A Mediocre in the City - Part 2

All was well and he seemed to be doing good till his obsession got the better of him. He started feeling that people were noticing him, he felt being followed, he felt people keeping a constant watch over him, and he felt he is being watched more than he watching people for their behavior.
That‘s it he felt uncomfortable and fell into a deep well of self-pity and started feeling conscious of his self and started avoiding people, eye contact, he used to hear voices all around him and they seemed to haunt him.

People had long discussions and if he heard laughter’s aloud he amused something was wrong with him and thought people discussed about him behind his back. It was getting on his nerves, he started missing office, he started staying at home, the guy who used to be impeccably dressed and move around walked in a hollow state.

His bread started growing, his unkempt hair covered the rest of the face that was visible and grew longer to contemplate the bread. He closed in his shoulders that they almost touched together in front of his chin. The total turn of characteristics made him into a man who lost all in a very young age. He lost touch with outside world and he had forgotten to eat as well.

Nobody found his absence and people thought probably he had shifted to another city and settled with something he found. As it is he never had any familiar conversations with anybody and he never disclosed his feelings or thoughts to people, there was no reason to find him. He left his job and was also running out of money but did he bother about it….no.

Days went on and he confined himself to his room and never came out of it. The neighbors, the landlord got worried and kept knocking at his door for some days with no answer and only sudden shrill sounds from inside. They were so much sacred to break open and take a look, they kept wondering what horrid images they would find and that kept them at bay. They kept it as their little secret and went on their way of life. The people were horrified by the shrill voices at night, the only evidence of the life that used to live there in the house and had strolled by.

Sometimes they heard several voices from inside but could not figure out who went and at what time? They could not notice anybody walking up to the house nor walking away from it and wondered how the voices came from as they heard? It became a mystery day-by-day.

Caught in all this entanglements…he lost his life and his prime time of his life was being wasted in hallucinations and disturbed feelings. One day it became unbearable for him, talking and fighting with himself, he banged open the doors of his house and walked into the broad day light, a man of extreme smartness and a lad of early twenties walked as if he was aged in days and a old sage, with unkempt clothes and a bad hovering smell of unkempt hair and body.

He goes to a small shop and buys a fag for himself, he wasn’t a smoker but used to occasionally with friends. Today, he felt he wanted to and took long staggering puffs of it…he seemed to relax in months.

He stood there looking at the sun, the blinding effect it made on his eyes, he closed his eyes, looked into the black circles that formed…and was lost in abysses. He finished off his cigarette and starts talking to himself, people kept looking at him, and the shopkeeper had literally shoved him away, till he produced the 100 rupee note.

Strangely, not much of a scene was created at his appearance and people looked at their jobs busily, this city has lost its intuitiveness. He walks back to his abode after what looked like almost some two hours of standing on the road with closed eyes and the lone cigarette puffing away in the daylight.

He comes to his abode as he has been lucky to not confiscated by the law from been smoking on a street and returns home safe. He had kept his doors open and did not lock it. He felt there isn’t any need of it now and he was like an open book and all these days of solace had reviled him all bonds and expectations and he break away the rules that bound him. He had also forgotten the ways of life used to be stiff and stridden in clutches everywhere.

He gets back and immediately notices something odd about his house. He finds tracks but not sure what or which caused the tracks there were prints of few toes and the rest of the leg prints missing. He is petrified and wonders what or which caused this? He feels someone’s there in his place, it is possessed. He tries to shake it away by throwing his things, by scattering things, making huge noise and sounds, people rush to see what the commotion is about?

Now, how the prints get in there in the first place…obviously the place was not kept neat and tidy. It has amounts of dust and mud filled on the floor that where perfect foliage for the prints. He turned the house upside down but could not get any trace of the animal or human that could have done this. People kept looking for some time at the commotion and his restlessness and then murmuring to themselves walked away to mind their own chores.

They kept reminding themselves that a collective approach to the problem must be done to get this cranky fellow out of this place. His parents did not know what’s wrong with this guy and they kept put in their place and never knew of what was happening here. He had attended a few calls sometime back and had answered to them, ‘Don’t call me. I am very busy and will call back when I have time.’ And they believed he was extremely busy that they kept him away from home for almost two months, were getting worried at the end of it.

What happened to him? Why is he isn’t calling them? What happened to his usual behavior of calling them for every single enquiry? Really worried the couple, decide to travel to see him the Sunday and start to get there by the train.

They reach the house where he stays and hearing a lot of conversations and surrounded by still hopeless and useless people, the place where he stays, both are worried and dropping their belongings run up a flight of stairs to see their son amidst the abysses and they are not able to recognize their child and neither he could his parents.

They rake him up and the eyes that used to pour gallons of love and affection, is lost in memory and it is totally out of focus.


Short Stories by Kavitha Kumaresan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License

I feel for a cry from Inside......

I am irritated by the question since yesterday, night. Did you watch what has happened? Mumbai has been attacked by terrorists? Did you watch NDTV news? It is running live? What a bad situation, na? No, place is safe, na? So many have lost lives? So many have causalities? What is in INDIA store for?

I mean, only now, people have or seen INDIA, as a country? What happened, when people were asked to join ARMY, NAVY, and POLICE to support our country? Where are the people, who now feel the TERRORISM should be KILLED, and MURDERED?

I simply don’t understand?? My mind does not comprehend the sudden wellness and sudden unity in the society and the over-whelming sympathy.

My friend calls me up at night 1.30 am to give me the news in fact I was fast asleep and knew about it. Yeah, I understand people who saw it on the television and came to know about it, it was a shock, but what am I to do about it?

I feel, I am being cornered and if I don’t show any kind of reaction to the news and contribute a gasp or an awe or anger or depression at what is done and what is being discussed, I am an ‘ALIEN’.

Why is that so? Can’t we sit and just let the incident die…? Disheartening right??

It is painful for you to see…It is still painful for the people who have been through, isn’t it? Then, why talk about it or write about it?

Suddenly, people feel responsible and they talk and curse the Terrorists, support the police who they have been cribbing about till yesterday, pray for the departed, feel responsible, try and talk about it for a matter of single-week and get back to normal lives?

What happens to your responsibility then? Why don’t you talk about it, then?

No, only when an incident is hot you describe it in all words that are possible. I guess that is the motive of these TERRORISTS - GAIN ATTENTION!!!

I don’t understand the fact about talking about it. Everywhere you see people are discussing it. What is the use?

Are we brave enough to go down and help the people who are affected? Are we brave enough to stop such activities? Are we brave enough to spot people like there and report about them? Are we efficient enough? No, we just talk about it and speculate….My, God! I do not fancy these ideas…

You want to do something, please do. You feel bad about something, please do. Why do you rope in people to think and react the same way you do?

Everyone has feelings and unless you are in that position you cannot feel the worseness of it. So please stop talking about it…..Talking about it does not HELP!!!

I too feel sad…anger…helplessness. But I don’t go about talking about my helplessness!!!
Can’t do anything else; let us stop talking about it? Maybe, the TERRORRIST or the person responsible of these acts will realize it was waste creating such a scene!!!
Stop speculating!!! Rest will follow…It is tragic alright but what logic can flow in with all the TALKING!!!

Media is talking about, because it has to relate and reason the cause or happening of an event. Why are we talking about it? Are we spreading awareness, fear, insecurity, knowledge?? What??

Disclaimer: This sudden upsurge of goodness and dutiful citizenship is an emotion that I am not able to correlate. This article isn’t intended at anybody or any person who feels otherwise. I have written, what I felt as you have.

You and Me.....!!!

It was mailer announcement for SALSA DANCE classes for those who are interested, I was just looking at the picture and the beautiful couple in a pose, in poster that is replicated here.

I was impressed by the couple and their pose, so mind started rattling and I wondered what if they had been alive and what would they have conversed...So here is what he says to her!!!!
*********************************************************************************

Tonight, we dance on the floor
Yeah, we shall vibe together….
Hand-in-Hand and Legs sweeping the tide
There will be music and fun
You will be in my arms and I look into your eyes….

Your body will touch mine with a flow
The desire intervened in a strand of joy
The heat of the bodies melting the space in-between
We will jive together and rock the floor….

Stride after stride I join you with the same vigor
You give way to your valor and hold still harder
Giving me the pleasure of feeling you closer
Here in my arms and feeling us together….

When the night is dawn and gone
I remain etched in your bone
Feeling you in every inch of the tone
When I say the few words, to you
In those ears that compliment the beautiful face
My love, let us do a SALSA…………right now!!!

-Kavitha

A Mediocre in the City

Working in the IT sectors of the city, he used to stay almost about 8-10 hours away from his small home cum living room that was placed in the well-known area of the city, but lost in the crowd.

He is less known among his surrounding and almost invariably remains unknown of the fear that he might be spotted to be extremely handsome and invite troubles because of it….

His work is only solace and even being in the best of cadres in the office he confines to himself and talks only to a few and very much on official terms and if somebody of his team does not get motivated and feels lonely, he as a tutor fells obliged to talk to that person and clear his doubts and be a leading shoulder.

Otherwise, he is himself and more the people want to know him they get convoluted. So, after several hopeless tries of effort let him be himself and at peace within themselves.

Some found him so handsome and thought it was all the weight of his attractiveness that he his throwing around, but when he spoke, he really spoke with sense and made people sweep off their feet. He seemed intelligent in any field they referred to, he seemed more polite and manly than the whole crowd, he seemed to be the perfect blend for any prospect girl, but all in vain. He was a stoned wall which people could not break through after a point.

He was much like the secrets of the pyramids in the Egypt that try to dazzle everyone till the end even though you don’t seem closer to the truth you feel you are nearing it day-by-day.

He has a beautiful family in the temple city of Tamilnadu and he makes his visit once a month availing a legitimate leave and visits them regularly. He is not bound by duties or responsibilities; his dad is still the earning member of his family with his mother who shares her husband’s burden. Both of them, are veteran college lecturers who have pulled through ups and down of their life with smiling faces and always been surrounded by young blood year after year, understand their life and appreciate them being responsible and of immense knowledge power that was a liability to them, in times of yesteryear.

He has an elder brother, who is into the Industrial sector and works for a prestigious industry in India and a younger brother is doing his final years of study following his brother into the helm of Information Technology. His parents had longed for a girl in the family but the only women in the family being their mother, they could understand females better.

They all supported and did chores for their mother and made her feel happy and it looked as if she lived in a family with three fathers, who absolutely had the greatest care of her. The guys did not feel affiliated to any other female on earth and moved closely to their and thought no of girls or women will meet up to their mother.

And from here comes his aloofness to the females on earth and did not want to mingle much with the girls and kept away from the limelight. When his friend’s uses to comment on his handsomeness and say the Miss World and Universe would swindle to fall at his feet and become known with him, just for his manliness. He used just give them a smile and tell them, there is no one such breathtaking for me and I find it absolutely waste of time. His friends used to feel jealous of his manhood and used to swear that if the wealth that he has even given in one percent would have been enough for them to churn the world and play with it.

But fate is otherwise and all they could do was watch him do nothing about anything and were obliged to live like that with him or lose his friendship. They though at least by sticking to him they could bring on some luck.

So our man was the same till he really started focusing on his career and his shift to this small hamlet of his in the city. His four walls knew more of him than the other around him. He was bored with his lifestyle, one day decided to talk a long walk through the street that lead to his house from the main street and relax.

It was a lone Saturday afternoon, with sun blazing in from above with clouds trying to play hide and seek, he slowly started walking down the street, noticing the scattered people, looking at them, their activities and the lone street with very few people, suddenly something in him inspired and he thought that watching people would be a nice time killer.

He took his long walk and got back and as a habit of writing things that were close to his heart in an orange colored notebook of the ITC brand with wonderful covers. He opened it and made notes of things that he had seen and how it affected him or how it related to him. After he finished writing, he did not feel relaxed as he used to feel whenever he finished writing such an episode.

He felt something turning and still burning in him and he was getting addicted to the thought in his mind, without the fell that this might get psychotic sometime down the lane. He started practicing this art and he seemed to mastering it at a quick pace. His office turned to be the best place of specimens and now even women and girls fell into the sector and he was awed at the complexness, the varied combinations and permutations the world had.

He wondered how his mind could comprehend these complex living beings and their thought process just like the back of his hand. He went on falling a victim to his own scheme and he knew how his manager to react to him, if he said something he did not like and he started manipulating his sentences to just get the right answer from his manager. It worked and every time after he had left the cabin, his manger would come out of his trance and than realize he did something out of his control, but could not revoke.

He was becoming dangerously serious with this obsession. Standing a few feet away from the crowd he could read at least ten minds at lightning speed and his mind did wonders for him. He could comprehend when things happen and what outcome, and what is what. Sitting in the comforts of his office, he could draw a virtual map of his home and pick the things that he missed seeing in his daily routine or trace a thing which he wasn’t able to find in a hurry. He would go home and find it right where he saw in his mind picture. Such was his mind power…


Short Stories by Kavitha Kumaresan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License

A New Dimension to Hindi Cinema - A Prespective!!!!

This post has to have beeen posted on 29th September, better late than never.......

I happened to watch the two movies that are being raved about in the recent times, 'A Wednesday' and 'ROCK ON'. I am impressed or at least it caught my attention and I wanted to say a few words, so here you go.

Yes, accepted that Bollywood broke the bounds of usual cinema techniques, trends and formulae’s and came up with two different cinemas.

But, the question is will it reach the masses as the movies, such a DDLJ, RAJA HIDUSTHANI, the movies of the league of Rajshri Productions and others......

I personally felt that a movie like 'ROCK ON' is a movie for the elite class or the upper strata of people who understand and feel affiliated to the subject in discussion.

Though the movie had a weak storyline, it had a lot of potential portrayals. I felt there is lot of loose ends that could have been tied up, for instance, the breakup between the 'lead guitarist' and the 'lead singer' wasn't established completely and their make-up neither.

Except Farhan Akhtar, I don't see anybody else singing except for in the last concert......
In spite of the fall backs...the movie had some good music and really a new genre in the 'World of Hindi Cinema'. It was refreshing to see new dimensions and new song sequences, instead of a heavy outdoor, a international location, a skimpily clad heroine and a fully clad hero in coat overalls, beautiful helicopter shots, artificial blowing wind, big cars, some jatkha's and some disgusting tactics of the hero moving all over the heroine and the heroine blushing....

The music looks inspired…..but a couple of songs stayed on the memory, like the last song and the female song during their reunion…….

The movie “A Wednesday’ had been yet another different movie in terms of technicality and treatment and portrayal.

There were some basic flaws in the movie, but still it stands out for the portrayal of Naseruddin Shah, and Anupam Kher. Though there isn’t much to talk about their portrayal or acting, they did what was expected out of them and the movie moved frame by frame.

Somehow, the director had missed to keep the suspense till the end and almost towards the end I could guess what is to come, especially by the cell phone ringing on the desk underneath the desk??!!!!

The others in the movie were good, but could have written some script for them too… The movie was a nice perspective for terrorism. I was not convinced of the place where Naseruddin Shah sits to execute his plan…if you show him to be intellectually manipulating the whole show, the location could be anywhere…why a rooftop of a construction building??

Likewise, the usage of the camera crew and a news reporter wasn’t justified, just to keep the audience guessing, I guess. Here again a different, movie in the main stream line of Hindi cinema and not in the parallel cinema or off beat cinema, like the critics love to call it.

I guess this will be the first cinema without a single song or songs for the hero and heroine, no flashbacks, no sentiments, no rona-dhona, no betrayal, no friend’s logic, no girlfriends…..etc.

A movie which did not have rubbish politicians and his clan with a rustic and vulgar dance sequence and an action sequence running parallel, confusing the audience and the director himself. The politician shown in this particular movie was actually used as a puppet and did not do justice to the post shown or described in the movie. At times he looked as if he was at the mercy of the District Commissioner of Police (DCP) of the state rather than showing his rights as a Chief Minister of the state.

Even when he says, I don’t want another bomb blast in the city, it looked as if he wasn’t convinced of what he was asking the DCP to do. Another thing that looked like comedy was the introduction of the hacker…His role could have been established more.

The behavior of the hacker could have been a little better, the dialogues were fair enough but the scope given to him was less that could have been more utilized, since the need of the hour was such….

Apart from the flaws of the movie, it was great to watch a different movie which did not resemble any of the old cinemas or the same beaten story of a rich boy and a poor girl or vice versa….or the sad sentimental movies or the genre of good feel movies.

It is definitely a welcome to the change the cinema goers were looking for but will it reach the masses??? Bombay or Mumbai is a place where the cine field is earning money and surviving due to the same formula of movies day and day out. Will movies of this GENRE run and still be a success??

If we say, the world is changing and peoples’ outlook has changed, yes, I agree to it. But only the middle class of the society has changed…..rest of India is still the same.

Though said and done, the above said sentences are reflections of an individual and do not stand as the universal truth or predilection of whatever in discussion.

Thank You.

Meetings and Departures – Two Phases of Life

Have you ever wondered what we have in common to the bus stands, railway stations and airports? Yes, I have and always wondered, why?

Like these places have two acts ‘arrivals and departures’….life also has this same feature in a unique fashion with the only difference is here you make the choices of arrival and departure.
Having my education done in different parts of India and stayed at various places with my family that consisted of my dad, mom and sis, I always dreaded the thought of getting close to my friends that I make.

Every time, I had made friends I had to leave them and move to a different place and town and start a fresh. I used to always envy the people who have been friends for long years together and always longed for a friend.

From my childhood did not have one single friend but various friends and they all would remember me as I do them now, I guess. Though time and tide could not remain in constant touch but the times spent together will remain etched in the minds and continue to ring the bell whenever prompted by similar incidents and happenings.

These meetings and relations had been so short lived and strange that I really cherish them looking back at them. Sometimes your friendship starts of in a quarrel, or by sharing something, or by giving a hand of help, or by calling them out by name, or most of the times it is just by a smile.

The days when the internet and World Wide Web wasn’t available there was immense happiness in making friends and there was no animosity like now. It had to be face-to-face and either you like them or not you make decisions and stick to it.

Sometimes there are people in this journey called life that you would have met these kinds of people only twice or thrice and had some wonderful conversations. But they aren’t now close by but you somehow tend to miss them, without explanation. And this strange feeling make you grow fonder of them.

Sometimes you have people with you always and you seem to be together and have breakfast, lunch, share a cup of coffee, share a joke, share a secret, share a lighter moment, share a embarrassment, share a loss and share a gain, but they seem still distant and you feel there isn’t more to this relationship and when they depart you kind of remember them for few days and then you need to rack you brain to remember them again.

Every meeting and departure of a friend brings joy to the mind and let you linger with its thought no matter what may come and go. Life goes on with giving you the two phases of life meeting and departure.

Gone are the days when such departures were painful and heart rendering. Today, external appearances are matter-less, facial contours are not measured, geographical distances are erased, familiarity is of no importance, the intimacy isn’t there, the need to see each other isn’t there and still there is so much of friendship spread across.

In spite all differences wiped out there is uncertainty that prevails in this kind of friendship but there are souls that touch even from the animosity and distance. And people like them are very few. One such friendship can never die and it lives in the minds even after the distant is maintained.

What happens when such friends depart and you can’t bridge the distance no matter what?

PS: This post is dedicated to my friends.

I remember the good old days......Fondly!!!!

Small things in life used to give me great pleasure and a sense of satisfaction in the days that are gone by. Now, I have all the affordable comforts of life but still I don’t have the time to sit back and enjoy these days….

I remember my school days with reverence to them as I have my fond memories locked in there. I still remember the days, when I used to listen to the Vividh Bharati before leaving home and setting my watch to the time that was just read out….

I used to eagerly wait for the new film songs to telecast and wait till one song to be played. Listen to few lines of it and then leave however late it would be to school. The few lines would run in my mind and I would wait another day to hear the same few lines and wait eagerly for Saturdays and Sundays to listen to them in complete. But as fate would be stronger, I would not be able to hear them and it would be a Monday, when I hear them again.

There used to long and unforgettable debates on our favorite stars at leisure periods of school or during the breaks. The discussion used to be about varied topics of these movie stars, their upcoming films and songs that made your heart churn to the melody, new posters, their costumes, the heroine make-up, and a whole lot of aspects of the movie.

The Doordarsan serials, programs on DD2,the cricket matches, the Olympics, the games in summer holidays, the trips to hometown during holidays, the unknown relative marriages, the weddings of Akka’s, Anna’s, neighbors, uncles and aunts, the glory of talking to classmates, the long walks to the school and college. All these were fun.

Now, we get all that one desires for, new movie clippings, new DVD’s, CD’S players, mp3 players, beautiful computer systems that play multi-media.

But where is the fun in waiting for the glimpse of your favorite hero, the new posters of the hero, the magazines that had loads of cine news, the cricket commentaries for the matches you can’t see, the long wait for the world cups, the glimpses of your sports star, the tennis matches, the tennis stars, the cricket matches during the final exams, the cajoling you get to do to your mother to watch them, and the final approval from dad to watch for few over’s and then back to the books, with intermittent scores or over’s…

What fun it used to be!!!! And to top it all the discussions about the bowlers and the strikes made by players on ground….with friends the next day!!! Watching the few over’s at a near-by friend’s house during breaks and the announcement of the score card during the physics and chemistry labs…asking a friend to run home and get the scores, the unnecessary leaves to watch matches, movies, and the songs that used to be played on those small and elegant tape recorders.

The happiness of noting the songs that we like on a piece of paper and getting it recorded on a TDK or Sony cassettes from a recording shop. The 90 minute cassettes and the 60 minute cassettes, calculating how many songs would accommodate in each, the blaring speaker radios on the events of the politicians, cine actors, birthdays and death anniversaries on the street corners, the fading sound of a long forgotten song travelling in the air in the mid-afternoons when you are deliberately asked to sleep to avoid the sun on summer holidays, the long runs in the backyards of the house, the scorching heat and sweat never minded.

Now, leaving the comforts of the house is a real problem. No kid wants to play in the sun, they want be in the air conditioned rooms and the sophisticated video games to play with. The fun of munching into a raw mango right from the tree branch plucked and wiped on the dress to wash off the dust and mud. The raw tamarind buds, the unripe guavas, the sapotas, the tender coconut water all from the gardens of the backyard and those competitions for the ‘Fastest Tree Climber’ title. The street corner games with marbles, tops, and try to beat the local guys in those games, it was a whole lot of fun.

The long lectures from grand mom and grand dad about playing with the local kids and the scorching sun, the unkempt promises of not playing with them the next day, the sneaking out of the house to join the gang, the small film strips lying the roads, the collection of small match boxes, the collection of stamps, the collection of one rupee coins, old rupee notes, different envelops, foreign currencies, flowers, and those small things that looked different or amused you.

Those stories and tales from grand mom and grand dad, of those days, the pre-independence days, the stories of the days when a whole gamut of kitchen groceries could be brought with just 5 rupees, the temple feasts, the stories of ghosts and spirits that tauter you in the night after everyone has slept and you cling to your grandmother and sleep tight till the broad daylight. The joyful rides in the city buses to the town to buy things that are necessary for you, easily available in the city.

The movies in the theatres that had only benches to sit and watch the screens with an L-shaped torn in the centre, the vendors selling peanuts, murrukku, the bad-tasting cola but fun to drink, the small kulfi’s, the salty ice-creams, the sonpapdi that the old man used to sell when he comes to our house lanes late in the nights ringing his bell, heard from far away lanes, waiting for him to arrive at your lane.

Surround the chimney light and ask for the better portion from the bottle, his murmuring that everything is the same and later he gives in to satisfy us. Those were priceless star-studded nights.

The clipping that always missed when you got up to wash your hands after a round of scolding from your mother after dinner or a meal, or when you mother calls you to stir something in the kitchen, or when you run to pick the clothes in the backyard when it starts drizzling, the fun in doing everything right and still watch the small clipping that appeared between breaks.

The Chitrahaar on Wednesdays, the Rangoli on Sundays, and the other regional language movies, the Fauji serial, the Buniyaad serial, the Humlog serial on weekdays used to be good and you always looked forward to watch it unlike today’s serial that are full of Saas-Bahu or Some break-up relation or someone taking the role of Sakuni and getting disorder in the family.

Those programs had a message and talked of the wealth of a family, the happiness in living together. The serials such as , Shanthi, Sukanya, teri kahani nirali, Udaan-A story of female IPS used to talk about the strength of women in a natural way. These brought out the goodness of being a female and how she can also be equal to a man. Then the legendary series of Mahabharat and the Ramayan by the two giants in the Cine field, Ramanand Sagar and BR Chopra films, were great entertainers….

The Doordarsan short films such as film on togetherness, the film on the importance of obeying the railway crossing, the importance of educating a girl child, the importance of family planning, those small and imperfect in today’s standards of film making were real good and it was fun watching them and they still etched a mark in your brain.

The books such as Amar Chitra Katha, Tinkle, Tin Tin, the cartoon shows on DD, the Tom and Jerry, the Duck Tales, the Lonely Tunes, Mickey Mouse and Goofy, The Squirrels, The Mooglie of Jungle, The Charlie Chaplin comedies, and the non-stop nonsense series.

Everything in life has a price; we gave up these small pleasures to be more comfortable and happy in life. With it came the advent of technology and more advanced features of life but none in comparison to the small and pleasurable deeds that we used to do. In vain, we lost the very essence of living it right…..in childhood.

State of Mind

I have a small mind of mine
That rakes my soul for answers
I don't know or rather feel frightful at the answer

I look into bleakness and expect it
To answer back!!!

I wonder if there was anybody at the other end
Would come to my rescuse
But I am not able to see, they helping me!!!

I sent prayers and wishes for it
When I get it I don't know
What to do with them!!!

What state of a mind is this
I live with!!!

Help is within 'You' cries my mind
Consantly and endlessly
I heed to it, I am back to square one
Looking into bleakness
And hoping someone would come by!!!!

How the choice of ‘PRAYERS’ gets intensified in times of desolate?

I am sitting here in Hyderabad and wondering when things will come on by itself and the remaining pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fall into place and relieve me of this small unknown fear in my mind come to an end.

Don’t ask me what I am undergoing as I am not in a state to explain. But this is for sure that I am not asking for things for that are not liable to me?

As far as I see, I have been looking for some solutions in this life and have headed towards the set destination in a perfect linear line. The horizon did not feel far or near, it was there as any other sources of derivation and meditation and to it reach it, it took immense mental and physical capabilities to advance to a further step every other day.

I did not demand much from life and sailed across its course and went wherever it took me and now I am desolated on an island from where the only option left out for me is to swim across and reach the civilization and be happy.

But stranded on this shores of life I am wondering why I don’t receive a ship or a loft on which I can cling to and reach the civilization and live in harmony.

Why am I not entitled for it? Why is there so much of turbulence in me and in the surrounding? Why do I hear the words of turmoil, failures, break-ups, unkempt promises and stagnation? When will the situations clear and take me home on a cruise?

Am I asking for a cruise, NO? I am only asking for a liability that can just hold me for a few yards and sail across the tide and be in my own civilization. Is it too much that I am not able to receive anything except for such enormous Hushes and Silences that echo loud and clear in my mind and dreams?

I hear distant voices of my mind that says ask ‘HIM’, he will give you if you ask him, only you got to be true to what you are asking and it will be granted?

I wonder who is this ‘HIM’ and why should I submit to him? Why is he asking me to do all that I don’t do in any normal time and why this all suddenly? People and my mind say, ‘You ask it will be granted?’

Now, what do I ask him, I say ‘Yes to calm my mind and the people and decide enough is enough I will ask him and see what will be done?’

How do I put my hands together and ask him, ‘Please, do this for me as I am in need of it?’ Ok, if that is the way it is….Let me put my hands once together and then ask him, as I used to ask my dad, for all the ice-creams he refused to buy, the dresses that he said, ‘No it won’t suit you’, for the guys who said, ‘No, to my proposal’ and my dad, said ‘He isn’t worth of you?’ and so on.

I never knew I can perfect this art of praying, but as the theory of science goes, believe and that will make a difference to whatever you have. I am reinstating my belief.

Here, is my piece of my prayer for ‘You’:

I am standing here at your doorsteps asking for my little worries of my mind to vanish and give me the sight of the civilization that I long for. This isn’t the first time I have asked you for all this, I have many a times turned to you in despair and invite you to show me the path as you have always done till date. Yet I turn to you one more time, God, you are the source and the derived path. Please help me endure this and make me come to the much awaited civilization of life. Amen!!