Such a disappointment

Dhoom-II

;(

Ticket -> 150
Popcorn-> 55
Auto -> 20

Rushing like mad to get to the theatre by time.

No proper dinner due to the odd timings

;)

Popcorn eating competition (I won)

"Who reaches the gate first?" (after the movie, roomie won)

--------
Ash is a mannequin, programmed to show certain limited facial expression. (If Ash can be a biker, Rakhi Sawant sure can win Oscars)
Bipasha has no role than come in swim suits all the time.
Abhishek Bachan is OK, but Dhoom-I was better.
Uday Chopra is expected to look stupid, he does that well.
Hritik is good but I miss the macho John Abraham.
---------

In the Ash-Hritik lip locking scene, the guy tried his best, but the lady was standing like a rock. No more comments.

But the basketball session in the rain was good. (for those who haven't seen the movie yet, they JUST play basketball. thats it;)))))))

---------

Moral of the Story:- No one beats the sight of John Abraham on the bike.
Ash shouldn't try anything other than heavily clothed period movies.

WoWWWW

I am so thrilled !!!!

Trying to recollect

1st :- Eletta Sister
2nd :- Eliabeth Teacher ???
3rd :- Annie Teacher ???
4th :- ???

5th :- Dakshayani Teacher
6th :- Sumathi Teacher
7th :- Prabhakaran Sir

8th :- Subramanian Sir
9th :- Agnus Teacher
10th:-Mangalambika Teacher

Good .. I remember atleast this much.

No One Writes To The Colonel - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Marqez needs no introduction. This is the story of the Colonel, his asthmatic wife, their dead son and the rooster.

Just a novella that can be finished in one reading and comes for 100 bucks. Guess you shouldn't miss. This is so beautifully wriitten.

Marquez is a man of "words".

Forgot to tell one thing..

Everybody go watch Casino Royale ... I just love the new Bond. I never liked Pierce Brosnan for that matter.

മോഹം

ഒരുവട്ടം കൂടിയെന്നോറ്മകള്‍ മേയുന്ന
തിരുമുറ്റത്തെത്തുവാന്‍ മോഹം

തിരുമുറ്റത്തൊരുകോണില്‍ നില്ക്കുന്നൊരനെല്ലി
മരമൊന്നുലത്തുവാന്‍ മോഹം

അടരുന്ന കയ്മണികള്‍ പൊഴിയുമ്ബൊള്‍
ചെന്നെടുത്തതിലൊന്നു തിന്നുവാന്‍ മോഹം

സുഖമെഴും കയ്പ്പും പുളിപ്പും മധുരവും
നുകരുവനിപ്പഴും മോഹം

തൊടിയിലെ കിണര്‍ വെള്ളം കോരിക്കുടിച്ചെന്തു
മധുരമെന്നോതുവാന്‍ മോഹം

ഒരുവട്ടം കൂടിയാപ്പുഴയുടെ തീരത്ത്
വെറുതെയിരിക്കുവാന്‍ മോഹം

വെറുതേയിരുന്നൊരു കുയിലിന്റെ
പാട്ടുകേട്ടെതിര്പാട്ടുപാറ്റുവാന്‍ മോഹം

അതു കേള്ക്കെ ഉച്ചത്തില്‍ കൂകും കുയിലിന്റെ
ശ്രുതിപിന്തുടരുവാന്‍ മോഹം

ഒടുവില്‍ പിണങി പറന്നുപോം
പക്ഷിയോടരുതേ എന്നോതുവാന്‍ മോഹം

വെറുതേയീ മോഹങളെന്നറിയുമ്പൊഴും
വെറുതേ മോഹിക്കുവാന്‍ മോഹം

മയ്യഴിപ്പുഴയുടെ തീരങളില്‍ - M Mukundan

There is no protagonist in this novel. If there is one, that is Mayyazhi herselt. Mayyazhi/Mahe, the Frech colony in the British India.

It is the story of Mayyazhi, the വെള്ളക്കാര്‍ who were there for generations, the localites who don't consider them as invaders but as born rulers, the വെള്ളക്കാര്‍ who gave them an option of choosing between French/Indian citizenship, the natives who wonder what is the meaning of freedom and wonder from whom they need it.

Mayyaziyude Kathakaran tells us their freedom striggle and once they got it how they lost their muse for life. They didn't know what to live for next. One went to the same building the French ruled them and set up a similar Govt, one chose French citizenship as he realised he wasn't fighting the French but the colonioalism and his fight was the nedd of the time, and the one who was the most promising of them all stood standing staring at the life that betrayed him.


It's so touching, so tragical. A true masterpiece, don't miss it.

ആനന്ധധാര - Balachandran Chullikkadu

ചൂടാതെ പോയ് നീ നിനക്കായ് ഞാന്‍ ചോര
ചാറിച്ചുവപ്പിച്ചൊരെന്‍ പനിനീര്പ്പൂവുകള്‍
കാണാതെ പോയ് നീ നിനക്കയ് ഞാനെന്റെ
പ്രാണന്റെ പിന്നില്‍ കുറിച്ചിട്ട വാക്കുകള്‍
ഒന്നു തൊടാതെ പോയീ വിരല്തുമ്ബിനാല്‍‍
ഇന്നും നിനക്കായ് തുടിക്കുമെന്‍ തന്ത്രികള്‍

അന്ധമാം സംവല്‍ത്സങള്ക്കുമക്കരെ
അന്തമെഴാത്തതാമോറ്മകള്ക്കക്കരെ
കുങ്കുമം തൊട്ടു വരുന്ന ശരത്ക്കാല
സന്ധ്യയാണിന്നുമെനിക്കുനീയോമനെ

ദുഖമാനെങിലും നിന്നെക്കുറിച്ചുള്ള
ദുഖമെന്താനന്തമാണെനിക്കോമനേ
എന്നെന്നുമെന്‍ പാനപാത്രം നിറയ്ക്കട്ടെ
നിന്നസാന്നിധ്യം പകരുന്ന വേദന

*The best ever love song I have read in any language*

Cat and Mouse - Gunter Grass

What was that??!!!!

I have no clue.

Either the author's style is too complex for my brain to decipher or the translation from German makes it complex.

This time I give myself a benefit of doubt. I have tried reading Mein Kampf twice and I couldn't go beyond the first 10 or 20 pages. The shameless self flattery of the German leader had put me off enough. Add to it bizarre sentences, long enough to cover half the page, I quit. Don't think I will ever have the mindset to take it up again.

I am absolutely confounded by the book. I have no clue who is the protagonist, how come the best admirer finally becomes the worst enemy and what was all that happening in between. There were certain pages talking about the teenage boys' sexual awakening. It is not that I am dumb to understand such things, but at first I just didn't get it. I re-read. But then I wasn't sure if I was thinking in the same lines as the author. It took me a third reading to finally console myself that I am no pervert but that was what written there.

By the way, Gunter Grass was initially degraded as a pornographic author ;))

I don't want to comment on a Nobel laurate. I will try reading his masterpiece, The Tin Drum and come back on him. But ya, not so soon. Pls..... I need a well deserved break. This book wasn't an easy task. I am proud of myself that I finished reading it despite feeling giddy most of the times.

Note:- If you are looking for pornography, I am sorry, but the book would be an even major disappointment *thought I should make that clear*

Casual Conversation

Fnd 1:- Marriage is a dying institution.

Fnd 2:- That's sheer nonsense. Everyone gets married these days. Marriage is a thriving institution.

Fnd 1:- Ya.. You are right. People get married atleast twice these days.

The thought of marriage scares me to DEATH

You can't blame me after reading this. What a bubbly girl she used to be !!!!!!!!!

hii...

yes, i've joined back...

we did some small scale shopping for the house...i think i told u abt the almirah..we also bought a mixie n hubby was finally able to "locate" the gas supplier's shop...so, now i have a gas connection...i am yet to take a number...hope to go to their office today...

man, its very very hard setting up a home...i have till now not been able to find a bai, though officially three of them have agreed to work at my place...they never turn up....n hubby is not too helpful with the house work..so, i end up doing the cooking, cleaning, washing, jhaddoo,pocha, everything myself...n to top it, i have to catch the office bus at 7.15 am..got up at 5.30 today, fixed up the breakfast, got ready n came to office..n here also, the induction is going on in full swing n i have been given my first assignment already...24 hrs r not enough for me....

enuff of my prarabdham...u tell me..whats up...

plz give me some time to settle down..n then i will be in touch..right now, i am simply too screwed up for anything....

take care...

Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe

Of all the books I have read and written about, this stands apart. From the very first chapter I had no difficulty in understanding why is this book tuoted as one of the 100 greatest novels of all time by numerous lists. If you haven't come across this yet, make this your next buy. This is the best book I have read so far and I doubt if at all I would ever happen to read something that would match this.

The novel is considered to be the first and most serious contribution of African Literature. Has to be...

The novel fundamentally shakes the Western notion that Africa has no history of its own by presenting the original Africa culture and its value through a heroic warrior and statesman of an African village. Okonkwo, the protagonist, is a self made man, much respected for his rise from nothingness to one of the most admired men of their time. The novel tells the story of the lives of the people before and after the British onslaught.

Above all, Achebe gives and insight to the way of life of his people through this story set in the early 1900s and the value of what the outsiders considered as barbaric or pagan.

A remarkably well told story, undoubtedly unmatchable by any other book in the world literature.

Leave your Marquez or Toni Morrison or Kundera for a while. You miss this; you miss the finest of them all.

Here I stop and let the book speak for itself.

A Doll's House - Henrik Ibsen

Ibsen was a strong critic of the Victorian sense of morals and duties and his writings so strongly reflect on his views. It would be a useless effort to try reading this without some background study of the society Ibsen lived in and the criticism he has faced himself.

There is nothing more than a usual drama in this, if you ask me. But Ibsen had me going through all the wrath, disgust or indifference the protagonist went through. The theme would have well been degenerated to a feminist drama, if not for Ibsen’s genuine dialogues. While reading it, I could feel myself feeling so intensely for the lady Nora, that even before I reached the final point, I had almost pictured her there.

I was so captivated by Ibsen's style that I couldn't resist taking up another book of his - Ghosts. But I think Doll's house stands apart.

It is supposed to be one of the biggest blunders of the Nobel Committee that Ibsen wasn't awarded the prestigious award. Indeed !!!!!!!!

Going back in time

Thanks to BVN for tagging me to write about the things I like and hate about childhood.

I Love ..

1) School

The 3 day youth festival, where I so enthusiastically danced, did my first ever dramas, won every extempore speech, story writing and quiz competitions. I was, literally, the all in all of my school during those times.

My years as a school leader when I used to read out the pledge and was the pet of every other teacher.

Summer vacations and the train journey to my mother's place. Me and bro used to fight for the window seat which invariably used to go to him as he was louder in his screams.

School opening - the new uniforms, new bag, new books, new umbrella and the new little ME.

2) The paddy fields

We used to have this swimming and fishing trips in the creek during summer vacations

In the period between the last harvest and owing for the new season, there used to be lots and lots of mussels in the fields. All of us kids used to go with big buckets and pick them up. Boil them to take out of the shell and make the tastiest non-veg dish I have ever had in my life.

3) The Girls Junta

We never liked those pompous guys much. Found almost all of their pass time as sheer stupid. We had our own sports. (If you can call them sports). I can't name them in English. To be frank, I have even forgotten the Malayalam names. But I can still play them all.

The cold wars between the Girls Junta and the stupid Boys Junta. We all used to mend up for Hide & Seek. ;))

4) My protective kid brother

Our schools used to be in the same compound. His was a boys school and mine was girls, both Govt schools. When he was a junior, he always had some seniors asking him about his Chechi. He used to loath them.

When the first ever guy proposed me - I was hardly 10 yr old and didn't even know about the I love you thing - brother used to hit the guy with his bicycle.

Once I got my first ever love letter - which I accepted 'cos it was sent thru a girl - and brother used to almost stalk the guy to call him names and humiliated him in all the kiddo ways imaginable.

5) The festivals

Vishu more than Onam. Yes, for the kineettam. We were the only kids in my mothers family at that time (and now there is almost a dozen). Used to get a huge some ( something like a hundred or two) during that.

Christmas - every year we used to put the star, get the cake and celebrate like any other of our festivals.

6) The Boys school in the same compound

For all the strikes they did for international reason and the holidays they forced the Head Mistress to declare. You guys used to be our Heroes ;)))))

I hate..

The cow dung - Geeee. Almost all our neighbors had cattle in their cows. And the one right next to us had a shed facing our house. PPPPPuuuuuuuuKkkkkkkkkkkkkee

Milk - all the cows go to hell

Caning at school - it was not the pain but the humiliation

Playing with my Bro - he used to threaten me that he would wake up Achan who was sleeping after a night shift or that he would jump into the well and force me to play with him. And play waht ?? - Indo Pak war of all the thing and I always had to be Pak and get defeated.

The preference Bro used to get as he was the younger one.

An uncle who used to stay with us - for reasons I don't want to mention (no child molestation if that’s what you are thinking). I still can't like him, but I try to be polite atleast. I have never hated anyone in my life, but him. I still do. Unless and until I get enlightened and become a Buddha, I can't suppress my hatred.

O God, keep me innocent; make others great!
Author: Caroline Matilda

Dictator or Hero?

I have always felt that our (Indian common men) support for Saddam is not based on facts but on sentiments, that he is anti-US. There isn't much of reasons to support him. But that doesn’t mean he is the most notorious criminal even in Iraq.

I have just finished reading The Time's and Guardian's account of the Saddam sentence. I guess the last time they might have said something so venomous could be when Hitler was dead. The whole account would have convinced me that the end of Saddam would be the end of terrorism and world would be synonymous to heaven, had I had been ignorant about the after effects of the US invasion.

I am not sure if Saddam should be given a lesser sentence. He was a brutal dictator, there is no doubt about that. But that doesn't justify the US regime in the area. In what way arer the Iraqi's better off now?

This is an account of the terrorist attack after the US invasion in Iraq. (Copied from an article in The Times of India)

-----------------
Madrid bomb attacks - result Spain pulls out of Iraq and is now safer and has not yet had any attacks of that nature after that.

London attacks - everything status quo - more powers to the police who can shoot to kill just on suspicion and get away with it.

Delhi attacks - Delhi bomb attacks on the eve of Diwali and Id - no respite from terrorism in India (Kashmir and Delhi)

Israel - Even Israel pulling out of Gaza did not reduce the suicide attacks in Israel.

Iraq - Everyday scores of people dying in insurgent attacks which have only grown stronger since the fall of Saddam. (Both Iraqis [read 30, 000] and US soldiers.

Indonesia - More foreigners in killed in recent bombings.

Jordan - Hotel bombings in Jordan kill scores more people
----------

The euphoria over this sentence is understandable, but I wish the media would have given a balanced account. Either it says as if Iraqi's are doomed and Saddam era was their golden age (like the Indian media) or they show how relieved and well off are they with US aid (like the US and UK media).

The only argument I have against the whole trial is that where is UN in the picture? How come it doesn't even have a proper say? Are we all taking the US for the world police?

Hats off to BBC for bringing up a relatively neutral report.

Ohhhhhhh Noooooooooo

I am not really pro Saddam, rather pro-Bush. And that is what worries me. If Saddam is to be hanged for killing 148 people, what would be Bush's fate for killing 30,000 civilians in Iraq(formal accounts) ???!!!!!!!!!

Waiting for Godot – Samuel Beckett

If the word Kafkaesque can be associated with any literature other than that of Kafka, that has to be with Beckett. Try coupling it with some Camus type Absurdity, and you get Beckett. It is with mush apprehension that I try to talk about the book. I might be able to tell you how impressed I am with Kafka, but to describe how I feel about a Kafkaesque drama is beyond my vocabulary.

Thanks to my ability to imagine the most absurd of things and some association with those “modern” dramas in college, I found the book an irresistible read. I knew there were no story, no meaning but just dialogues that too grossly incoherent.

Though many people tried to interpret the drama Beckett only said "It means what it says". I can’t explain it any further. But I would suggest it to all the Kafka fans.

The play has two parts and five characters on stage, everything happening while two of them - Vladimir and Estragon - are waiting for someone called Godot who never appears. Vladimir and Estragon tries to pass the time in conflict while giving a strong indication that they themselves don’t know who this Godot is and why are they waiting for him. Soon comes Pozzo and Lucky and presents us with even bizarre circumstances. Over all these circumstances are very much similar in both the parts, but with subtle difference. And if at all there is a story it is nothing but two guys waiting for someone who doesn’t appear at all and send a boy to inform that he would meet them the next day.

The much quoted ending should say it all:

Vladimir: Well, shall we go?
Estragon: Yes, let's go.
They do not move.

I, Me, Myself

I can be taken for a ride, any time.
Except for certain fundamental things like food, books, movies and politics, any Tom, Dick & Harry can influence me; especially when it comes to judging others. Whoever gives me the last opinion can count on me, but make sure no one else talks to me after that. I might change loyalties.

I forgive but don't forget.
I am taken for granted, all most all the time. I keep quiet and take everything. Either I don't give a damn or I don't want to embarrass the other person. Finally when I snap, that is The End. I don't always get angry. I can exactly recollect the times I have lost my temper. And I am sure those who stood it recollect it too. As I said I forgive all the time, but will carry the wound to my grave.

I embarrass others in oddest of ways imaginable.
When I feel sarcastic about things, I just can't hide it from my face, how much ever serious the situation is. When someone was calling me names over phone, I was feeling funny on the other side and they gave up sensing my cold response. Then again a creepy guy once offered to walk with me on a deserted road; I smiled at him and told with the most polite expression – that was so nice of you. But no thanks – He didn’t know what to say. And I waited for his response. He gave a faint smile and walked away. I wasn’t acting brave; my response was genuine at that time. The very thought of it makes me faint with fear now.

I am biased.
Somehow I always overlook a mistake by girl while even a silly shortcoming from a guy could be taken very badly. I can't help thinking of guys in bad light. So even if a guy and a girl behave the same way, I might rate the guy as irritating and disgusting and an outright PIG, while the girl may pass with a - Oh she is so silly - remark. Considering the infatuations or crushes I had on guys when I didn’t know them and the nearly nil conversion ratios into an affair after I had even a single chance to talk to them, I don't think I can be blamed. (Wait, I am straight. Just to clear the doubt).

Anything Indian, mallu, girlie and left appeals to me. But girlie has got nothing to do with the kind of funny thing you see in the K soaps or the Govinda movies.

I am a hypocrite (in a smaalll way)
Even though guys are generally rated as MCPs, almost all my closest friends happen to be guys. And most of the time its guys who leave my mouth open with admiration.

And then, even if the omnipotence and omnipresence is something that doesn't appeal to my logical mind, somewhere deep down I fear a far off hell where they are all waiting to get me. (Anyway they say that hell is full of interesting people).

I am confused.
I dilly dally all the time. I myself don’t know what I want. At one time I would want one thing and the next time that might look so silly and stupid. I have always made my choices so far. Good, bad, right or wrong, I am happy that I made them. There are things I feel so ashamed of myself, things I think I would have handled differently, but at the end of the day I would not have been like things had it happened some other way. I don’t know how I got here, no idea where am I going. All I know is that I’ll keep going till my last breath. And it is my right to be happy through out.

I am obsessive about people, things and books.
About 4 people.

And all those small paper roses and other gifts brother had given me years back, the paper in which AJ’s gift was wrapped, all the letters sent by a friend long lost, all the one or two liner chits Amma used to keep in my couriers, the mails thru which I made friends with some of you out there and the only gift Achan had given me formally – the wrist watch that I am wearing for the last 11 years. It isn’t those photographs or real gifts that excite me but those small things you never valued means everything to me. And ya, if I give you something you better keep it. Brother once spent almost a week pacifying me after somebody stole a laughing Buddha I have him. (But I am not bothered that he is selling the WorldSpace I bought for him).

I neither borrow books nor lend. I don’t keep them for display, but inside an almirah so that no one see it. Once a close friend took one for a read, I only know the pain and anxiety I went thru till she returned it.

And ya, I am an ardent admirer too – of both people I live my real life with and those faceless ones somewhere in the big big web world.

I am waiting for a Communist Utopia.
Though I very much doubt the practicality of such a society, I believe the left still has a larger role to play in a country like ours. There are lots of things I want to protest about, lot of things I want to contribute to. But then, I am no superman. So I choose to wait, till someone else takes the initiative. But I guess, I’ll make an ardent follower.

I truly, sincerely, ardently wish

that I get one more birth and I be a pirate/super woman/or be a warrior(like the ones who do those martial arts trick in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and Hero, my all time favorite movie) and live in a world with no F1, heavy metal and religion (If he grants my wish, God can stay).

I am happy with myself.

About what I am, where I am and people I am with. As an overall package, I would give myself a 6.5/10. Hey, that’s not bad. No one has ever scored more than 6 in my scale ;))

Special Thanks to the Feudal Lord for this ;)

Stream of Consciousness

I have no idea how I got here. Which place is this? Oh man, it is so gloomy. And what time is this? Some creepy hour at night? Or is it still day? The place can’t be this dark during day. Damn it ….. how can I be so absent minded?

Someone is pulling my hand. God ….. I am lying on this deserted road at this hour of the night. What am I doing? What’s happening? May be he is trying to get me up. Who is this fellow? My flat mate? No!!!!!!!!! Then? But this excruciating pain, aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh ....... He is hitting on my shoulders. He or she ??? My vision is so blurred. My shoulder is getting smashed into tiny pieces. It feels like thousands of needles being put through my flesh.

I am screaming, loud enough for the entire world to wake up. Then why is that no one is hearing my cry for help, not even my assaulter? My voice got vanished somewhere. But it is coming out of my lips. Then where is it going? What is happening? Someone give me a drop of water, at least.

I can't think staright. I desperately need my mobile. Thank God that the guy is all occupied. And now he is his shifting his attention to the other shoulder. The pain is mounting. Am I balancing somewhere between existence and oblivion? Or am I already ….?

Ohhhhh Nooooooooo. The mobile is dead too. It isn't turning on. Now ???????

The guy ..... I am still not sure if that is a man or woman ....... started smashing my legs. Ohhhh stoppp. Plllllllllsssssssssssss

I miss Sigmund Freud. But then, would he have called me a psycho??!!!!!!!!!