Saturday, October 20, 2007
Moving to wordpress
After much internal debate and hand wringing, I am moving to wordpress. Here is the new site's URL.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
This blog has moved
I am moving my blog. Will reveal the details soon! And oh, I know the looks of this blog has changed, but it's gonna pretty much look like this. But the new blog looks much better, I can promise you that!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Sympathy for the Devil
When Mick Jagger, then in the prime of his age, crooned, "What is puzzling you is the nature of my game," it's hard to ignore him. Not that this is a great song. Which it is. What attracts me these days is the crooning. I always chuckle when I hear the line, "Use all your well-learned politesse, Or I'll lay your soul to waste".
Ironically, I first listened this song as played by Blood, Sweat and Tears. I never liked the Rolling Stones version of it. Until this friend send it to me on a CD. Well, enjoy.
Fighting to lose
Do people fight to lose? Since most adults don't get into physical fights, we must talk about the psychological ones, and the verbal ones. We mostly fight with the ones we love. So do we fight at first and later lose to keep a relationship? And yet we don't want to lose completely. We want a compromise. I may have lost, but I want you to acknowledge that I won. Does losing give us much as satisfaction as winning? When you lose to a loved one, do you feel a sense of fulfillment? Like the dad who tells his son he good for nothing. All his life the son proves his dad right. He feels accomplished. The accomplishment is that he proved his dad right.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Euthanasia
He ran up the steps, two at a time, and into the house, running all the way through the dimly lit hall, into the dining room. The entire family sat around the table, grandpa at the head. Appa removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. He wasn’t crying or anything. Just tired.
Years later, the family get-together would intrude upon his dreams. A big injection, too big to be real, would spill its contents, as the fat nurse pressed the lever. He fully expected the dream to haunt and it did. At first, he woke up sweating. Later, it was a dark, void-like fear. Then he grew lazy in his reaction. He would invite the dream. Come, haunt me, he would whisper. “I am used to you now.”
He looked at all their faces, from one to the other. Then he looked from his grandpa to his father, from the man who thought of this first to the man who had agreed to it finally. The family didn't talk much after that. Even if they did, he didn’t remember.
He did remember the life going out. He remembered the silent acceptance of that horror. No one shrieked. No one cried or gasped. It was a silent death followed by a silent funeral followed by silence. Sinking deep, it ate into all their souls. They would walk about like puppets and pull each other’s strings. Or may be they were genuine. He could never tell. It would be weeks before anyone would talk.
Amma died peacefully. She had long lost her ability to talk. He never found out whether she liked the death she had. Sometimes, he would experience her death.
One night, the injection pierced the back of his neck. It was a tiny prick, but his mind exploded. He saw red.
Appa would stand in the lawn outside and smoke after dinner. He would take the dog upstairs and play with it. He would sit on the overhead tank and cry.
They would tell the visitors that Amma had been sick for years and that they fully expected her death. The visitors would nod as if they understood. Or may be they were too polite to ask. “How does anyone expect death?”
That night he told Appa not to say that again. He hadn’t expected Amma to die.
Death became him. He didn’t feel sad or depressed. He felt pretentious. Often, he would wonder whether his feelings were real.
They moved after a year, or was it two? Appa told him to leave the dog behind. He tied the dog to a tree nearby. After their car left, a neighbour would free the dog.
Two nights later, Appa woke up in his bed. It was dark outside. He went to the lawn and lit a cigarette. Minutes later, he thought he saw the dog outside. “I saw her,” he told the family. No one believed him.
Years later, the family get-together would intrude upon his dreams. A big injection, too big to be real, would spill its contents, as the fat nurse pressed the lever. He fully expected the dream to haunt and it did. At first, he woke up sweating. Later, it was a dark, void-like fear. Then he grew lazy in his reaction. He would invite the dream. Come, haunt me, he would whisper. “I am used to you now.”
He looked at all their faces, from one to the other. Then he looked from his grandpa to his father, from the man who thought of this first to the man who had agreed to it finally. The family didn't talk much after that. Even if they did, he didn’t remember.
He did remember the life going out. He remembered the silent acceptance of that horror. No one shrieked. No one cried or gasped. It was a silent death followed by a silent funeral followed by silence. Sinking deep, it ate into all their souls. They would walk about like puppets and pull each other’s strings. Or may be they were genuine. He could never tell. It would be weeks before anyone would talk.
Amma died peacefully. She had long lost her ability to talk. He never found out whether she liked the death she had. Sometimes, he would experience her death.
One night, the injection pierced the back of his neck. It was a tiny prick, but his mind exploded. He saw red.
Appa would stand in the lawn outside and smoke after dinner. He would take the dog upstairs and play with it. He would sit on the overhead tank and cry.
They would tell the visitors that Amma had been sick for years and that they fully expected her death. The visitors would nod as if they understood. Or may be they were too polite to ask. “How does anyone expect death?”
That night he told Appa not to say that again. He hadn’t expected Amma to die.
Death became him. He didn’t feel sad or depressed. He felt pretentious. Often, he would wonder whether his feelings were real.
They moved after a year, or was it two? Appa told him to leave the dog behind. He tied the dog to a tree nearby. After their car left, a neighbour would free the dog.
Two nights later, Appa woke up in his bed. It was dark outside. He went to the lawn and lit a cigarette. Minutes later, he thought he saw the dog outside. “I saw her,” he told the family. No one believed him.
Existential crisis
O.K., you got to know by now that I am no Satre. My crisis is not gonna change the world, but you can bet it's bloody real.
A couple of days ago, I went to watch this movie called Vegam to review it. I can't begin to tell you how depressing it was for me. Having decided to review films to earn a few extra bucks, I felt that perhaps I should not be too optimistic about my career choice.
During the interval as I sipped my coke adulterated with extra water, I pondered a career change and realised my passion was for films alone. But if I had to watch two, three movies in a row like Vegam, wasn't I sure to lose my sanity?
What would I do if I had to watch 10 movies like this one?
Post interval, the frustration did get to me a bit. I wanted to jump on screen and knock some sense into the characters.
It took a couple of days to relax. I am cool again. Hope movies like that one never get made.
My review of the movie is somewhere around here. Read it if you have to.
A couple of days ago, I went to watch this movie called Vegam to review it. I can't begin to tell you how depressing it was for me. Having decided to review films to earn a few extra bucks, I felt that perhaps I should not be too optimistic about my career choice.
During the interval as I sipped my coke adulterated with extra water, I pondered a career change and realised my passion was for films alone. But if I had to watch two, three movies in a row like Vegam, wasn't I sure to lose my sanity?
What would I do if I had to watch 10 movies like this one?
Post interval, the frustration did get to me a bit. I wanted to jump on screen and knock some sense into the characters.
It took a couple of days to relax. I am cool again. Hope movies like that one never get made.
My review of the movie is somewhere around here. Read it if you have to.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Hello Mr. Ethir Katchi
I remember watching this song from Iruvar for the first time in the theatre. It was an unique experience. Ash couldn't act back then (she later proved she could with Raincoat), but boy wasn't she lovely to look at!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Two lists of 100 movies
The links first:
The American Film Institute's updated list of 100 top Hollywood movies.
Eddieonfilm does list of 100 top foreign films
More on the lists later.
The American Film Institute's updated list of 100 top Hollywood movies.
Eddieonfilm does list of 100 top foreign films
More on the lists later.
Friday, October 05, 2007
A new couple and five odd balls
In the centre are my friend Shainu and his wife Chinju. From left to right are: Roal, me, Jimmy, Kelly and Joji. All of us have one thing in common: Madras Christian College.
The wedding happened in the town of Thiruvalla in Kerala. I will write another post on my three-day vacation soon.
Posts on my time in MCC are here and here.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Rick Deckard a replicant
Never realised that Rick Deckard, the cop who catches replicants in Blade Runner, was himself a replicant. The film, which is seeing its 25th year since release, is being released in a new director's cut that reveals that Deckard, played by Harrison Ford, was all along a replicant. Darn, wish I had the sense to complete the novel.
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