This is something I wrote long ago after watching spiderman 3. I liked what I wrote and so, I am putting it here so I can read it whenever I want.
Who ever said spiderman 3 is not good has no idea of what entertainment is all about. When was the last time you laughed every time the hero cried? That kind of acting takes special skills and Toby is one of the special kind second only to Vijayakanth.
The amazing direction and wonderful acting makes this movie a treat to all. To say the story was dull is ridiculous. To start with you have a cute smart alien bug that hitches a ride on a meteorite, then you have the I-did-it-for-my-kid guy who by the way didn’t kill uncle Ben and then did and then didn’t (confused uh? So am I). Then you have the rival photographer who is waiting to be infected by the bug. And the best of all, the friend turned, foe turned, friend turned, foe turned, friend (let me take breather) Osbourn.
Which heroine confesses she is a pathetic actor? Mary Jane does. Which hero begs his arch rival to help him (as casually as asking for a lift)? Spidy does. And which director shamelessly assembles a crowd to weep and cheer for Spidy complete with the American flag? Spidy’s director does. Which friend waits patiently for his friend to die (forget the tamil ones)? Spidy does…
I am sure the bug will win the Oscar this year. It was the best performance by an alien bug so far.
PS: I have no intention of watching the another sequel of spidey, if the bug doesn’t act in it.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Mission accomplished!
It was one of the easier missions. Everything went as planned and contrary to my usual style, I finished my job and walked out with a few minutes to spare. All I had to do was leasurely sit in the pick up and get to the drop point roughly four kilometers away; after that I am as good as home and dry. I was dreaming of steaming hot sambar rice as I walked down the stairs (spies dont take lifts). But as I stepped out of the doors of the massive facade which hid the secret research lab, I was stunned. All dreams of sambar rice vanished in a wiff of the obnoxious fumes as I groaned in disappointment.
Something had gone wrong and now I have to wade through an army of enemy artillery, walk past thousands of soldiers and maybe hitch a ride on an enemy tanker to get to my drop point. My pick-up hasn't turned up and I have just the great sage yavanshi to help me get to the drop point on time.
I summoned all my courage and plunged into the sea of soldiers. if they were surprised to see a woman wading through them, they did not show it. Right in front of me was a bus full of unruly soldiers. It was a sight that could freeze any woman in fear but not me. I put on my best puppy dog face and asked for a lift. I few wide smiles later, I was sitting in a corner of the bus and trying my best to become invisible. The traffic was heavy and soldiers were running all around. Just as the bus started moving again, I noticed a few soldiers checking the vehicles behind us. Oh God! This is absolutely the wrong place to be caught.
Just as I was about to panic, the great sage Yavanshi came up with an idea. There was a dark alley that seemed to lead to a parallel road just a few feet in the front. As the bus rumbled a bit closer, I put on a dazzling smile and said that I got to go back as i had forgotten something. No one seemed to mind, so I hopped off and dashed into the alley.
For a minute I though I was being chased but then realized that though a lot of people were fretting, fuming and generally running in all directions, no one was following me. There are began the treacherous journey to my drop point. It was pitch black, there were a lot of land mines and I had to move at snails pace using my flash light. Once I crossed the alley the road was well lit but crowded. I pushed my way through the crowd and finally reached the railway station where my train home was already huffing and puffing. I ran as fast as I can and got one foot into the train before it pulled away angrily.
If not for such a wild imagination, I would have also fretted and fumed after getting stuck in the traffic for 2 hours. I walked to the station after abandoning the bus I was travelling in and this was the story that gave me the strength to walk four kilometers to the station.
Something had gone wrong and now I have to wade through an army of enemy artillery, walk past thousands of soldiers and maybe hitch a ride on an enemy tanker to get to my drop point. My pick-up hasn't turned up and I have just the great sage yavanshi to help me get to the drop point on time.
I summoned all my courage and plunged into the sea of soldiers. if they were surprised to see a woman wading through them, they did not show it. Right in front of me was a bus full of unruly soldiers. It was a sight that could freeze any woman in fear but not me. I put on my best puppy dog face and asked for a lift. I few wide smiles later, I was sitting in a corner of the bus and trying my best to become invisible. The traffic was heavy and soldiers were running all around. Just as the bus started moving again, I noticed a few soldiers checking the vehicles behind us. Oh God! This is absolutely the wrong place to be caught.
Just as I was about to panic, the great sage Yavanshi came up with an idea. There was a dark alley that seemed to lead to a parallel road just a few feet in the front. As the bus rumbled a bit closer, I put on a dazzling smile and said that I got to go back as i had forgotten something. No one seemed to mind, so I hopped off and dashed into the alley.
For a minute I though I was being chased but then realized that though a lot of people were fretting, fuming and generally running in all directions, no one was following me. There are began the treacherous journey to my drop point. It was pitch black, there were a lot of land mines and I had to move at snails pace using my flash light. Once I crossed the alley the road was well lit but crowded. I pushed my way through the crowd and finally reached the railway station where my train home was already huffing and puffing. I ran as fast as I can and got one foot into the train before it pulled away angrily.
If not for such a wild imagination, I would have also fretted and fumed after getting stuck in the traffic for 2 hours. I walked to the station after abandoning the bus I was travelling in and this was the story that gave me the strength to walk four kilometers to the station.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Can someone invent these?
My current anime obsession is 'Getbackers'. One of those shows where you have very humane super humans. Its about a couple of guys who start a retrieval agency and all their friends and foes. As I watched the show I realized that it would really be fun and profitable (not to mention the service to mankind blah blah blah!) to actually mimic some of their powers in the real world. For example, Ginji's power to generate electricity. Of course we cannot generate electricity buy a shock producing glove that can be turned on at when needed should be great to fend of men and women who lean too closely to us with harmful intent. Dr. jackal's bloody sword could be a dangerous thing but his pesky little knives can keep muggers at bay. Himiko's monkey poison will come in handy when the neighborhood not-so-friendly thieves decide to pay a visit. And it would really be fun to use Ban's evil eye on nasty auto drivers who think people equal to bags of money that can be tossed around during the ride and fleeced after that.
In-fact we can create Ginji shields that provide an electromagnetic shield around our vehicles that will slow down other vehicles that speed in within a few feet. Imagine the number of accidents that can be averted (well, at least I think so).
hum, if only I was good in physics, I would at least know if these ideas were hare brained. Unfortunately, even today, I find it difficult to believe that I actually passed that subject in high school.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Mishaps and apologies
It was one of those moments I really wondered if that person sitting in a cloud upstairs and supposed to be watching over us is actually a sadist. In that crowded bus already half way through to my destination, I though that if there is a God he is a real mean sadist. That Saturday was special. It was the day I had decided to treat a dear friend of mine to a luxuriant lunch and a great day roaming around town. We had planned on a movie but we didn't get tickets for three weeks. So we gave up on that and decided to go on a pilgrimage to our favourite temple, the Landmark bookshop. I planned everything carefully down to the last minute and everything was going as planned until she called up and said that for some urgent reason she has to work.
She was kind enough to let me visit her anyway. She is one of those friends i never feel like screaming at (and I should say I am good enough to be a professional screamer), though I am sure if any other friend of mine had tried this, I would have visited them after buying a pick axe. I cursed all the way for half an hour until she called and said that we can go for an early lunch once I get there. I was still irritated that all my plans were foiled and even contemplated forgetting the whole episode and going back home. But I had gone too far for that, so I just went ahead.
Even as I stood at her door wondering if the flowers I brought where right and the chocolates have melted in the humid Chennai heat; when she opened the door, I forgot everything. There on I didn't worry about what i was doing. We just laughed and talked. We walked to a restaurant nearby which was not even pretending to be as good as the one I had planned on, then we went on for ice creams (my favourite part). I even made her eat a blue and pink ice cream which she wouldn't have dreamt of trying on her own. One thing we didn't have was time. So we said good bye in a hurry and I set on my long journey back home inside a sweltering bus crowded as usual.
Curiously though, I remembered how irritated I was in the morning and then realized I was actually feeling happy now. Hum, at least the whole mess of my plans wasn't that bad. Later my friend told me that she had a really nice time that day, and I knew she meant it. I have forgotten all the fun we didn't have that day, but I remember the fun we did have. A couple of days later when I was narrating the event to a friend, she asked, "didn't she even apologies?" For a minute there I was startled. She didn't and I didn't even notice, in fact I would have squirmed if she had. To be frank, I realized that neither of us actually apologies to each other and that's one of the reasons why I feel comfortable about our friendship. Who wants apologies when neither of us care about such things?
The mess after all wasn't a mess at all coz the most important things where in place. Sort of like how you can still recognize a kids scribbling as a human figure just by the sticks and the circles.
She was kind enough to let me visit her anyway. She is one of those friends i never feel like screaming at (and I should say I am good enough to be a professional screamer), though I am sure if any other friend of mine had tried this, I would have visited them after buying a pick axe. I cursed all the way for half an hour until she called and said that we can go for an early lunch once I get there. I was still irritated that all my plans were foiled and even contemplated forgetting the whole episode and going back home. But I had gone too far for that, so I just went ahead.
Even as I stood at her door wondering if the flowers I brought where right and the chocolates have melted in the humid Chennai heat; when she opened the door, I forgot everything. There on I didn't worry about what i was doing. We just laughed and talked. We walked to a restaurant nearby which was not even pretending to be as good as the one I had planned on, then we went on for ice creams (my favourite part). I even made her eat a blue and pink ice cream which she wouldn't have dreamt of trying on her own. One thing we didn't have was time. So we said good bye in a hurry and I set on my long journey back home inside a sweltering bus crowded as usual.
Curiously though, I remembered how irritated I was in the morning and then realized I was actually feeling happy now. Hum, at least the whole mess of my plans wasn't that bad. Later my friend told me that she had a really nice time that day, and I knew she meant it. I have forgotten all the fun we didn't have that day, but I remember the fun we did have. A couple of days later when I was narrating the event to a friend, she asked, "didn't she even apologies?" For a minute there I was startled. She didn't and I didn't even notice, in fact I would have squirmed if she had. To be frank, I realized that neither of us actually apologies to each other and that's one of the reasons why I feel comfortable about our friendship. Who wants apologies when neither of us care about such things?
The mess after all wasn't a mess at all coz the most important things where in place. Sort of like how you can still recognize a kids scribbling as a human figure just by the sticks and the circles.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Whoring all our lives
Scandalized? Yes, we should be.
Some thoughts just sneak in on you so slow that you don't even realize that they are there until they hold you by the neck and throttle you. What I am writing now is one such. I was just thinking why people go to prostitutes. As far as I can see, its for sex. But why pay money and go to all the trouble for something that doesn't need someone else? Maybe because its nice to do it with someone else. Why is it nice that way? Maybe because it mimics something that goes way beyond sex, a false sense of love. But if that's the reason then why aren't there mother's for hire for a night who will serve you dinner and pet your hair. That will also give a false sense of affection right? Why not dad's for a Sunday, who will take you to movies and talk like a real father. Why not brothers, sisters or friends for hire?
I realized these relationships are also sold on the streets and sometimes inherited; its just that we don't call them prostitution. We call them duty, responsibility, commitment, comfort, security, and many more. Worst of all, we call it marriage. While whores get paid in money the rest of us get paid in kind or/and money.
I know, the first thing you are saying now is its not true. Yes, its not always true. But most of the time yes. Ask some of these questions to yourself and you will know.
Why do you marry?
Coz I need company, free sex, children, house maid, money machine, home, cook, bodyguard etc etc etc
Why do you care for your children?
Coz they are mine (u hear it surprisingly often), legacy, responsibility, future insurance etc etc etc
Why do you have friends?
Coz they will help in need, they have fun with me, they are there for me etc etc etc
In other words for something or the other.
I am sure you will be shocked why the word love isn't in these lists. I haven't said that word yet coz it is the only thing that differentiates prostitution and honest-to-yourself relationship.
Love that you just give for the joy of it. Not because you will get something out of it. Its just a honest feeling like genuine anger or sorrow. Oh forget the mush, its just a nice feeling that lasts while it lasts. Just like how anger dissolves in time, so can love. It doesn't become prostitution until the relationship lasts even after love dissolved.
By the way, I never said prostitution is wrong.
Some thoughts just sneak in on you so slow that you don't even realize that they are there until they hold you by the neck and throttle you. What I am writing now is one such. I was just thinking why people go to prostitutes. As far as I can see, its for sex. But why pay money and go to all the trouble for something that doesn't need someone else? Maybe because its nice to do it with someone else. Why is it nice that way? Maybe because it mimics something that goes way beyond sex, a false sense of love. But if that's the reason then why aren't there mother's for hire for a night who will serve you dinner and pet your hair. That will also give a false sense of affection right? Why not dad's for a Sunday, who will take you to movies and talk like a real father. Why not brothers, sisters or friends for hire?
I realized these relationships are also sold on the streets and sometimes inherited; its just that we don't call them prostitution. We call them duty, responsibility, commitment, comfort, security, and many more. Worst of all, we call it marriage. While whores get paid in money the rest of us get paid in kind or/and money.
I know, the first thing you are saying now is its not true. Yes, its not always true. But most of the time yes. Ask some of these questions to yourself and you will know.
Why do you marry?
Coz I need company, free sex, children, house maid, money machine, home, cook, bodyguard etc etc etc
Why do you care for your children?
Coz they are mine (u hear it surprisingly often), legacy, responsibility, future insurance etc etc etc
Why do you have friends?
Coz they will help in need, they have fun with me, they are there for me etc etc etc
In other words for something or the other.
I am sure you will be shocked why the word love isn't in these lists. I haven't said that word yet coz it is the only thing that differentiates prostitution and honest-to-yourself relationship.
Love that you just give for the joy of it. Not because you will get something out of it. Its just a honest feeling like genuine anger or sorrow. Oh forget the mush, its just a nice feeling that lasts while it lasts. Just like how anger dissolves in time, so can love. It doesn't become prostitution until the relationship lasts even after love dissolved.
By the way, I never said prostitution is wrong.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Women of the virgin territory
Someone thought its a good idea to advocate the advantages of hugging; and what we have is a newspaper article that spouts a lot of theories and practices on the science of hugging. Considering the fact that its written for an Indian audience, it had a lot of practical tips towards the etiquette for hugging. As I read the article, a very amusing revelation came to me. I haven't hugged anyone for the past ten years, and I am stopping at ten coz I can't be sure about the time before that.
Why?
Coz its not part of the culture I grew up in. Yes, I believe that even our traditional form of greeting is a chaste namaste. Especially, if you are of the female species, people are reluctant to touch you. Even fathers, mothers and brothers keep off girls once girls step into their teens. Now does that mean I am deprived, well no; I can't miss what i don't know. No wonder, girls of this nation develop a highly sensitive sense of personal space. Try standing next to a woman in a crowded bus, I bet most men can sense that barrier that says, 'cross at your own peril.'
Its just a small thing yet the result of a cascading effect of the bigger picture that defines the status of women in India. And that status dictates that unmarried woman should be untouched virgins. (By the way, whats the link between touching and virginity?) Just watch a mega serial (that almost the entire nation watches) to know how important it is. That's why India is one of those corners of the world where you can hunt for virgins in their twenties and maybe even older. Whats with the virginity stuff? Why aren't men expected to be virgins? Was this a bright idea of someone to control the great Indian population burst?
Some of the undesirable side effects of this obsession with virginity is the social stigma that is pinned onto women who aren't virgins and still unmarried. Take for example the way rape victims are treated. The fact that there are very few rape victims who actually talk about it is a cold reminder of the fear of stigma; the automatic statements that twist the woman's character so much so that she is assumed to be responsible for what happened to her. By the way, have you ever realized that married bharathiya bahu's with children but very limited brain development barely enough to support family, fight with in laws and gossip about neighbors seem to be respected more than women who are professionally successful and generally more productive to society?
But then what can be expected of a nation which treats woman as men's property. Where even a woman's identity has to be substantiated with the father's or the husband's name. It's such a bad bargain. But it does have its advantages if you want a passive simplistic life (meaning just eating, sleeping, sex and looking pretty).
I don't care much for it coz, I know I will die within the first twenty four hours of such a life, and of course I ain't pretty. But I do have my radar and I can bet that no one matches the abilities of a hyper active inbuilt radar system to leering men like that of an Indian woman's.
Why?
Coz its not part of the culture I grew up in. Yes, I believe that even our traditional form of greeting is a chaste namaste. Especially, if you are of the female species, people are reluctant to touch you. Even fathers, mothers and brothers keep off girls once girls step into their teens. Now does that mean I am deprived, well no; I can't miss what i don't know. No wonder, girls of this nation develop a highly sensitive sense of personal space. Try standing next to a woman in a crowded bus, I bet most men can sense that barrier that says, 'cross at your own peril.'
Its just a small thing yet the result of a cascading effect of the bigger picture that defines the status of women in India. And that status dictates that unmarried woman should be untouched virgins. (By the way, whats the link between touching and virginity?) Just watch a mega serial (that almost the entire nation watches) to know how important it is. That's why India is one of those corners of the world where you can hunt for virgins in their twenties and maybe even older. Whats with the virginity stuff? Why aren't men expected to be virgins? Was this a bright idea of someone to control the great Indian population burst?
Some of the undesirable side effects of this obsession with virginity is the social stigma that is pinned onto women who aren't virgins and still unmarried. Take for example the way rape victims are treated. The fact that there are very few rape victims who actually talk about it is a cold reminder of the fear of stigma; the automatic statements that twist the woman's character so much so that she is assumed to be responsible for what happened to her. By the way, have you ever realized that married bharathiya bahu's with children but very limited brain development barely enough to support family, fight with in laws and gossip about neighbors seem to be respected more than women who are professionally successful and generally more productive to society?
But then what can be expected of a nation which treats woman as men's property. Where even a woman's identity has to be substantiated with the father's or the husband's name. It's such a bad bargain. But it does have its advantages if you want a passive simplistic life (meaning just eating, sleeping, sex and looking pretty).
I don't care much for it coz, I know I will die within the first twenty four hours of such a life, and of course I ain't pretty. But I do have my radar and I can bet that no one matches the abilities of a hyper active inbuilt radar system to leering men like that of an Indian woman's.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
To my right - survey
Hey guys, I am taking a survey. Its very simple. Just answer the question below as a comment.
What do you think is right and wrong?
What do you think is right and wrong?
Bride and prejudice
Bride seeing ceremonies have a very distinct effect on me - a mixture of disgust, despair, annoyance and a little bit of hope. Curiously though, that negligible amount of hope seems to sway my entire reasoning towards submission. And after going through the routine, I have become used to it, even though I still get the urge to do something nasty to the unsuspecting groom's party. Even though I protest rather loudly, I am no more rebellious about this subject as I was before; especially when I am painfully aware that I myself have failed in this department rather miserably.
Finally, after spending five hundred buck on a shrink who said, I need to find a right guy for myself (duh! as if I don't know.) I decided that some soul searching is needed in this department. So, I sat down and really thought; not my usual flashes of genius type but by aid of a series of questions raised by the great sage, Yavanshi.
Q: What am I looking for?
A: Someone who would see me as an individual and not as a mass product of society (well, no one seems to want custom made stuff anymore. Made in India's simmering cauldron of social zombism is the preferred brand for brides, and needless to say, I don't fit the bill.)
Q: Why would I marry?
A:Obviously for love (what? did I say something funny.)
Q: Do I really need to marry?
A: If I will be better of married that single then yes, otherwise no. And that's solely dependent on my tolerance level to the unlucky chap, if ever there is one. And that in turn is dependent on how much I can love him.
Q: Whom would I love?
A: Hum, a guy I can respect. Someone who would love me enough to be there as the warm home I can get back to after wandering the worlds. Someone who will not only patch me up but also accept me patching him up when the need arises. (Someone tell me if I just eliminated the entire male population of the earth.) Oh yeah, and someone who is like minded enough to toss ideas like adoption and some noodles when I am tired. (Now that completes the elimination I suppose.)
Q: What can I give?
A: Love and understanding (like why men prefer football games to their wives), leeway (like he can have lunch,only, with a female friend but better be home for dinner), consideration (spare him the girl shopping) and freedom of thought (he can think and say that my violin playing skill are scientifically subzero and I won't cry, though i might still keep at it even harder.)
Q: Do I want to get married?
A: To the right guy yes. To the wrong one, I would rather run all the way to the north pole.
Q: Have I looked for Mr right?
A: Well, don't know how do that. At least I haven't asked men if they are married or otherwise within the first five minutes of knowing them.
Yavanshi, the great sage thought for a while and then finally gave her verdict.
"You are looking for a highly endangered species. Even if you find one, it will be a crime to waste him on you. But if by chance you do get Mr right, then that goes down in history as a miracle."
Why do we always hope for miracles? Even when we know it doesn't happen often these days. Same reason why we buy pop corn at the theater knowing very well it will cost ten times that of its actual price; coz its a luxury to hope.
Finally, after spending five hundred buck on a shrink who said, I need to find a right guy for myself (duh! as if I don't know.) I decided that some soul searching is needed in this department. So, I sat down and really thought; not my usual flashes of genius type but by aid of a series of questions raised by the great sage, Yavanshi.
Q: What am I looking for?
A: Someone who would see me as an individual and not as a mass product of society (well, no one seems to want custom made stuff anymore. Made in India's simmering cauldron of social zombism is the preferred brand for brides, and needless to say, I don't fit the bill.)
Q: Why would I marry?
A:Obviously for love (what? did I say something funny.)
Q: Do I really need to marry?
A: If I will be better of married that single then yes, otherwise no. And that's solely dependent on my tolerance level to the unlucky chap, if ever there is one. And that in turn is dependent on how much I can love him.
Q: Whom would I love?
A: Hum, a guy I can respect. Someone who would love me enough to be there as the warm home I can get back to after wandering the worlds. Someone who will not only patch me up but also accept me patching him up when the need arises. (Someone tell me if I just eliminated the entire male population of the earth.) Oh yeah, and someone who is like minded enough to toss ideas like adoption and some noodles when I am tired. (Now that completes the elimination I suppose.)
Q: What can I give?
A: Love and understanding (like why men prefer football games to their wives), leeway (like he can have lunch,only, with a female friend but better be home for dinner), consideration (spare him the girl shopping) and freedom of thought (he can think and say that my violin playing skill are scientifically subzero and I won't cry, though i might still keep at it even harder.)
Q: Do I want to get married?
A: To the right guy yes. To the wrong one, I would rather run all the way to the north pole.
Q: Have I looked for Mr right?
A: Well, don't know how do that. At least I haven't asked men if they are married or otherwise within the first five minutes of knowing them.
Yavanshi, the great sage thought for a while and then finally gave her verdict.
"You are looking for a highly endangered species. Even if you find one, it will be a crime to waste him on you. But if by chance you do get Mr right, then that goes down in history as a miracle."
Why do we always hope for miracles? Even when we know it doesn't happen often these days. Same reason why we buy pop corn at the theater knowing very well it will cost ten times that of its actual price; coz its a luxury to hope.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Moms and daughters
Kanathil muthamital.
I had no idea what drove me to watch that movie and whats so special about that movie apart from Manirathnam's great direction, until a friend of mine tried to explain. She said that the movie touches a cord in everyone as they can relate to the anguish of a child who realizes that the woman she assumes as her mother is not hers and the hunger there after to know her real mother. Try as I might, I still cannot understand it at all.
Every time, I see a mother and a daughter, I wonder whats so special about this relationship that makes two women not only get along but actually love each other for a life time. Given the fact that I have the least experience on the subject, it still remains an enigma to me. For someone who lost her biological mother when young and then having to accept someone else in her mothers place, I would say that there are some unique points that you may not be aware of. Hence, I would say you can refrain from judgement.
Call it cruel, heartless, sick, demented or anything else, but I stubbornly refused to cry when my biological mother died. No one including me understood why (though a lot chose to talk about it behind my back.) I just didn't cry. All the while my brother was kicking and screaming for her, I just laid my head on my grandam's lap and watched her cry. After all these years, though I am not sure why I didn't grieve, I think I have a logical reason. Maybe because I wasn't sure about the relationship I shared with my mother. She was there but I guess I was raised more by my grandparents than my own parents. No regrets there though.
Surprisingly though, it took me even longer than my brother to accept a brand new mom. It took me over 15 years of fighting and compromising to get to the point where we can actually sit and talk and laugh together. I can now safely say that in our own way, we love each other. Boy relationships are so hard to build.
Now, every time I see a mother and a daughter duo I don't bother to wonder what it would be like. Instead I smile knowing that they will wonder the same way when they see me and my mom.
I had no idea what drove me to watch that movie and whats so special about that movie apart from Manirathnam's great direction, until a friend of mine tried to explain. She said that the movie touches a cord in everyone as they can relate to the anguish of a child who realizes that the woman she assumes as her mother is not hers and the hunger there after to know her real mother. Try as I might, I still cannot understand it at all.
Every time, I see a mother and a daughter, I wonder whats so special about this relationship that makes two women not only get along but actually love each other for a life time. Given the fact that I have the least experience on the subject, it still remains an enigma to me. For someone who lost her biological mother when young and then having to accept someone else in her mothers place, I would say that there are some unique points that you may not be aware of. Hence, I would say you can refrain from judgement.
Call it cruel, heartless, sick, demented or anything else, but I stubbornly refused to cry when my biological mother died. No one including me understood why (though a lot chose to talk about it behind my back.) I just didn't cry. All the while my brother was kicking and screaming for her, I just laid my head on my grandam's lap and watched her cry. After all these years, though I am not sure why I didn't grieve, I think I have a logical reason. Maybe because I wasn't sure about the relationship I shared with my mother. She was there but I guess I was raised more by my grandparents than my own parents. No regrets there though.
Surprisingly though, it took me even longer than my brother to accept a brand new mom. It took me over 15 years of fighting and compromising to get to the point where we can actually sit and talk and laugh together. I can now safely say that in our own way, we love each other. Boy relationships are so hard to build.
Now, every time I see a mother and a daughter duo I don't bother to wonder what it would be like. Instead I smile knowing that they will wonder the same way when they see me and my mom.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Let there be copy paste
God and the Devil were playing a game of cards. As usual God was winning and Devil decided that the game was rotten. So he suggested an alternative.
"You know that game we used to play long time ago" Devil said in his silky voice that had deceived so many before.
"Yeah" God said noncommitally. He remembered the game very well. The last time they played that game, they had a cloned sheep on their hands and it had taken all of His skills to make it stop at that.
But Devil was so bored, he wanted to be entertained and what better way than playing with humans. So, he went on "lets play that game again. I am bored."
"Restless as ever, if I had your energy, the world would be a better place." God sighed.
"yeah yeah, whatever. You are lazy but good and I am active but bad. Now shall we play or what."
God thought hard, to be frank, even he was bored. So he nodded and said, "so whats the arguement this time."
Devil can be super sharp when he is excited, so he promptly said, "I say your humans are the least creative of the lot. Given a chance they would xerox you and me and themselves."
"And I should say they are more creative than you give them credit for."
Devil rubbed his hands in glee and said, "we each get one chance to amend and thats all. Now let the game begin."
God stood up from his throne and for a moment thoght, then he said, "ah, well, at least its not as bad as cloning." He then raised his staff and lowered it with might as he said, "let there be copy paste."
a year later...
Sure as the Devil suggested, there were xerox machine everywhere. People copy pasted everything from books to quotes. People fought and complained about the rightful owner of material and the world was heading towards chaos.
One particular individual was having a nice time though. "You know, I am having a great time, seems like the whole world is copy pasting now. What are you going to do." Devil was leering at God unconciosuly.
"You will see. And stop leering at me. I know I am handsome, but I am not your type."
"I know, you are such a bore. But a little leering keeps boredom away."
The next day, the first copywright laws were passed and copy pasting became a crime, if done without consent of the owner.
Upstairs Devil said, "as if thats going to stop them."
But it did stop them for a while. The xerox machines were there but people took the effort to think and write for themselves. This annoyed the hell out of the devil. So what he did was appear in the dream of a corporate manager and wispered copy paste into his ears. This guy was already having trouble deciding whose work was good and whose was bad. The devils idea came at the perfect time.
He went to his office the next day and asked all his employees to line up. He chose the guys whom he thought had written the best proposals and software programs and asked his other employees to copy paste these best guys' works. Thus copy paste became the new mantra of corporate world.
Soon, everything from cola add scripts to books to software were copy pasted. Corporates fround that they made more money simply by copy pasting than actually writing their own scripts.
God was sitting bent with his hands supporting his chin, the devil was dancing around him singing
"God has a problem, yo ho ho and a funny day for him.
God made copy paste and yo ho ho he has a problem."
God look on with disgust and said, "awh please cut it out. You look stupid dancing like that."
Devil didnt care, he was happy, "Admit defeat Mr.God. Your men are no more creative."
God sighed and said, "ah well, who cares, even I am bored or taking care of those damn fools. I will let them be. They better find a way out soon."
"You know that game we used to play long time ago" Devil said in his silky voice that had deceived so many before.
"Yeah" God said noncommitally. He remembered the game very well. The last time they played that game, they had a cloned sheep on their hands and it had taken all of His skills to make it stop at that.
But Devil was so bored, he wanted to be entertained and what better way than playing with humans. So, he went on "lets play that game again. I am bored."
"Restless as ever, if I had your energy, the world would be a better place." God sighed.
"yeah yeah, whatever. You are lazy but good and I am active but bad. Now shall we play or what."
God thought hard, to be frank, even he was bored. So he nodded and said, "so whats the arguement this time."
Devil can be super sharp when he is excited, so he promptly said, "I say your humans are the least creative of the lot. Given a chance they would xerox you and me and themselves."
"And I should say they are more creative than you give them credit for."
Devil rubbed his hands in glee and said, "we each get one chance to amend and thats all. Now let the game begin."
God stood up from his throne and for a moment thoght, then he said, "ah, well, at least its not as bad as cloning." He then raised his staff and lowered it with might as he said, "let there be copy paste."
a year later...
Sure as the Devil suggested, there were xerox machine everywhere. People copy pasted everything from books to quotes. People fought and complained about the rightful owner of material and the world was heading towards chaos.
One particular individual was having a nice time though. "You know, I am having a great time, seems like the whole world is copy pasting now. What are you going to do." Devil was leering at God unconciosuly.
"You will see. And stop leering at me. I know I am handsome, but I am not your type."
"I know, you are such a bore. But a little leering keeps boredom away."
The next day, the first copywright laws were passed and copy pasting became a crime, if done without consent of the owner.
Upstairs Devil said, "as if thats going to stop them."
But it did stop them for a while. The xerox machines were there but people took the effort to think and write for themselves. This annoyed the hell out of the devil. So what he did was appear in the dream of a corporate manager and wispered copy paste into his ears. This guy was already having trouble deciding whose work was good and whose was bad. The devils idea came at the perfect time.
He went to his office the next day and asked all his employees to line up. He chose the guys whom he thought had written the best proposals and software programs and asked his other employees to copy paste these best guys' works. Thus copy paste became the new mantra of corporate world.
Soon, everything from cola add scripts to books to software were copy pasted. Corporates fround that they made more money simply by copy pasting than actually writing their own scripts.
God was sitting bent with his hands supporting his chin, the devil was dancing around him singing
"God has a problem, yo ho ho and a funny day for him.
God made copy paste and yo ho ho he has a problem."
God look on with disgust and said, "awh please cut it out. You look stupid dancing like that."
Devil didnt care, he was happy, "Admit defeat Mr.God. Your men are no more creative."
God sighed and said, "ah well, who cares, even I am bored or taking care of those damn fools. I will let them be. They better find a way out soon."
Thursday, November 29, 2007
No joy ride but...
You want to have a slice of Chennai, take the metro bus. Countless friends have asked me why I commute the hard way everyday. Apart from the fear of ending up as a plus mark on one of the city roads, despite all the inconvenience, the bus is entertaining.
Take yesterday for example, after a tiring day at work and an even more tiring wait at the bus stop; I finally got into a bus from CMBT heading towards Guduwancherri. It was one of those day where the Gods are playing cards or something and so don't waste time showing mercy. So, I didn't get a seat. Even as I was hanging on for dear life as the driver was testing the durability of the breaks, the sheer variety of life around me was quite over powering. Two college girls engaged in idle chatter in their typical, "no-yaaar-i-prefer-mobile-phones-with-glitters" conversation. Apart from the faint smile they elicited in me, they were completely worthless in substance. So, I scanned the confines of the bus for another interesting character. There was this smart guy down the narrow passage, who was cool to the eye but hard on sensibility. He was crooning to some darling over the other of the phone in a baby voice. Boy, isn't there a place for such things.
Next in line were two old men. Thankfully they didn't have cellphones and so were communicating the old way-facing each other and talking. They were of course talking about the Ps - pension and politics. Just ahead of me were two working woman. They were still wearing their ID tags and so I know they are from Covansys. I wanted to ask them the trick of wearing ID tags. I hate wearing mine even inside the office and feel thats its too heavy and bulky for my liking. Had I asked they would have known that my brain is pickling, so I just listened and soon enough I know they are paying housing loans, their company still follows slavery and every other woman apart from these two angels in Covansys is a b****. In between all this one of their husband had the gal to call and got a curt, "feed the kid and put him to sleep" reply. After some time my ears were buzzing so I moved on.
A daily wages laborer was throwing a tantrum that the bus wasn't moving fast enough and her husband and baby boy of 23 will be waiting in hunger. Ever eager to set the record straight, the conductor dove in and said that if the traffic wouldn't budge, its not his problem. To this he got a cool "if you guys don't drive properly, why wouldn't there be traffic hold ups" reply at which point the conductor decided he would doze rather than talk. One of the woman asked the lady how she got the scars on her face and promptly they settled into comparing war injuries. All this was just too much for me and I was begining to cling to a pole and close my weary eyes when I opened them startled. The women was saying, "these scars are from my husband when he hit me. Nothing wrong with that though, I deserved it you know."
I tried thinking for a while but then gave up. what the hell! its not me anyway.
Take yesterday for example, after a tiring day at work and an even more tiring wait at the bus stop; I finally got into a bus from CMBT heading towards Guduwancherri. It was one of those day where the Gods are playing cards or something and so don't waste time showing mercy. So, I didn't get a seat. Even as I was hanging on for dear life as the driver was testing the durability of the breaks, the sheer variety of life around me was quite over powering. Two college girls engaged in idle chatter in their typical, "no-yaaar-i-prefer-mobile-phones-with-glitters" conversation. Apart from the faint smile they elicited in me, they were completely worthless in substance. So, I scanned the confines of the bus for another interesting character. There was this smart guy down the narrow passage, who was cool to the eye but hard on sensibility. He was crooning to some darling over the other of the phone in a baby voice. Boy, isn't there a place for such things.
Next in line were two old men. Thankfully they didn't have cellphones and so were communicating the old way-facing each other and talking. They were of course talking about the Ps - pension and politics. Just ahead of me were two working woman. They were still wearing their ID tags and so I know they are from Covansys. I wanted to ask them the trick of wearing ID tags. I hate wearing mine even inside the office and feel thats its too heavy and bulky for my liking. Had I asked they would have known that my brain is pickling, so I just listened and soon enough I know they are paying housing loans, their company still follows slavery and every other woman apart from these two angels in Covansys is a b****. In between all this one of their husband had the gal to call and got a curt, "feed the kid and put him to sleep" reply. After some time my ears were buzzing so I moved on.
A daily wages laborer was throwing a tantrum that the bus wasn't moving fast enough and her husband and baby boy of 23 will be waiting in hunger. Ever eager to set the record straight, the conductor dove in and said that if the traffic wouldn't budge, its not his problem. To this he got a cool "if you guys don't drive properly, why wouldn't there be traffic hold ups" reply at which point the conductor decided he would doze rather than talk. One of the woman asked the lady how she got the scars on her face and promptly they settled into comparing war injuries. All this was just too much for me and I was begining to cling to a pole and close my weary eyes when I opened them startled. The women was saying, "these scars are from my husband when he hit me. Nothing wrong with that though, I deserved it you know."
I tried thinking for a while but then gave up. what the hell! its not me anyway.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Fist full of stars
Have you ever stood somewhere, forgotten where or who you are and just been there in that place at that moment aware of the distinct smell, sound and view of that place? If you have, then have you tried something like an antithesis to this? I mean have you ever imagined a place and imagined its smell, sound and view?
I have and believe me its a wonderful experience. We wake up eat, work, sleep and count our money and do a few other things like building houses, buying stocks, and making babies. For a change why not live in an imaginary world at least for a few minutes? I did and it was like a new door had opened stepping out of which you can grab a fist full of stars, make the Meadows bloom in a second and ask the sea to take a breather.
Its not that hard really. I believe that one of the reasons books are still sold in millions is because they give us the right to imagine whatever we read. But you see something for real and that image takes over. How many of us see Daniel Radcliff every time we read Harry Potter? All of us who saw the movies isn't it?
By the way, don't go overboard. a small dose of imagination may keep the shrink away but too much of it, you definitely need to see one.
I have and believe me its a wonderful experience. We wake up eat, work, sleep and count our money and do a few other things like building houses, buying stocks, and making babies. For a change why not live in an imaginary world at least for a few minutes? I did and it was like a new door had opened stepping out of which you can grab a fist full of stars, make the Meadows bloom in a second and ask the sea to take a breather.
Its not that hard really. I believe that one of the reasons books are still sold in millions is because they give us the right to imagine whatever we read. But you see something for real and that image takes over. How many of us see Daniel Radcliff every time we read Harry Potter? All of us who saw the movies isn't it?
By the way, don't go overboard. a small dose of imagination may keep the shrink away but too much of it, you definitely need to see one.
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