A Revolution in the Offing

   I have never been a part of any revolution, not even experienced the emotion behind any. Not even during the protests for the huge scams or the recent monumental mismanagement by the government. Whatever TamilNadu is witnessing for the past 3 days stirred something inside me. I never felt pride for anything. Not even for being born in this most beautiful country or having the mother tongue with a great history. For me Life is an Absurd thing. ABSURD as in Albert Camus novels. Culture was a joke to me and adhering to it is not making sense at all. May be even now I am still the same but a slight pinprick might have happened within and I am writing about that small prick of pain with the blood of pride that oozes out of me.
 
    People always protest for something, be it the governmental policies, the scams, the gruesome anti-national and social issues. But here is a protest that united thousands for saving a cultural thing. No, I haven't seen any Jallikattu game in real at any time and I don't think the tens of thousands of young people protesting day and night for the same have seen it either. But why are they fighting? What made them to throng the streets for the game which they haven't seen? I think I have somehow slightly felt the meaning of the line 'Any real sacrifice is a Mystery' in the Magum Opus Amitav Ghosh's Novel 'The Shadow Lines' by feeling these young protesters pulse. India, being as diverse as all the countries united together, had witnessed mass protests on in-numerous occasions and it had seen many darker times like the Emergency where the freedom of anything is strictly prohibited let alone speech. But this is a situation where a linguistic sect of people or a ethnic group protesting against the country which they are part of.

   The banning of something which was practiced for thousands or hundreds of years would make anyone revolt. And it is a well discussed topic that if something was practiced for centuries doesn't mean it would fit to current society. The same was conveyed by our Honorable Chief Justice last year during a proceeding of the Jallikattu case. The more rational and the so called intelligent people drew parallels for Jallikattu with the rigorous practice of caste system and sati. I don't have anything to even think of those analogies.

   There are many conspiracies around the involvement of foreign hands in banning the sport. I don't know much about that. If it is there or not is a different question that needs to be answered but even if it not there, why the people are not allowed to organize the sport? This is a curious question whose roots are tangled in the debate between the National Allegiance Vs the Cultural following. By making a sect not to follow their culture kills the very idea of India. Since the country is above all doesn't mean that the people will not protest anything against the country.

   How long it will go? What if the Supreme court of India will not allow the sport to be organized? What if Delhi betrays the People of TamilNadu by doing nothing in this matter? What options do the Tamilians have? Some of the media are already making analogy to the Arab Spring. This cultural upheaval is nothing short of that and I believe it is the foundation for something big. What about the student who got severely injured during the protests? What about the people who leaving their jobs aside and participating in this mega protests? For what they are fighting. Is it a freedom struggle? If so, from whom? Isn't their right to do what they want to do? If some one take away that right, then the consequences would be unimaginable. The strangling of a culture would have serious repercussions. Don't ever try to violate the right of what you are? I can't live as a different person but as me. The same applies to a culture. The culture to identify who you are. It can't be rationalized, it can only be felt emotionally. Some times, I would think all our so called developments in politics or science or whatever doesn't make any sense. At deep down, the world is ruled by emotions not logics and that doesn't mean we are illogical.

Let's hope for the best outcome!

அந்த காவிரி தான் பாயல
நம்ம காளையாவது பாயட்டும்!

வாழ்க தமிழ் வளர்க இந்தியா!!!

Keep Off the Grass

                                                           

         
Well. It has been sometime since I have written something. I have been wondering all the time whether I could write whatever that comes to my mind, But I am not sure I have endowed with those attributes. Writing is always a task that needs some passion from within. Some would have their own passion to go about that continuously but for me it is a momentous act. When I feel something and I wanted to write those, I lost that moment in the lethargic work of searching, opening and logging in the laptop and finally writing. The very thought of doing this feel like bullshit and anyways I would console later with myself that whatever I might have written would be a bull shit anyways. So, that's not a big deal and use that time to kill myself by having a fag than writing a shit and killing others.

Was reading the book Karan Bajaj's 'Keep off the grass'. The story of an American (Indian origin) in his mid twenties and a wall street investment banker leaving his job and came to India to seek happiness or find the underlying meaning of happiness. I was attracted by the first topic of the book itself 'The inherent meaninglessness of life'. Fuck, this is one fantastic adage for life. Although I have the same opinion about life but how could these fucking writers articulate their thoughts so perfectly and majestically and whatever the adjectives.

Samrat, the American banker turned IIM-B student want to find something that is always elusive and missing in his life. Isn't it for all of us the same thing, we always whine about that that some thing is missing in our life? He was always for the game since he boarded the flight from Kentucky, be it accepting the Grass from his co passenger and get stoned while driving through the busy roads in Bangalore or making friendship with the geek cum heavy stoner cum 'don't give a shit' attitude Sarkar or be it the patriotic, philosophical and ironically practical Vinod, the Ex Army officer in the IIM. The adventures and the foolishness of these 3 (Samrat, sarkar and Vinod)  makes the book.

The other characters in the book are mostly the Sarkar's IIM fellow students whose attitudes are Grades following, getting high profile jobs, pleasing the professors, shoving the book down the arse all the time and not knowing what is happening outside the world. Some what the book revolves around only 2 things chase Kaanja, take it and get stoned and do the idiotic or thrilling rides (I would prefer it as thrilling as I had done so many in life, of course not by having marijuana but after drinking, and every time I came back and woke up, I had thought no more craziness until it happens the next time) and blame the system for all the unhappiness around you.

The book is an enjoyable and a light read and many of us would relate our thoughts with the book's many articulations. I was so shocked when in a page, Samrat was telling to Sarkar '...see. I feel like I am not belonging here. I don't think I am belonging anywhere and I don't know whether it is because I am an American and brought up by Indian style in home so that I end up in belonging nowhere. Sometimes I feel like I am out of the cosmos and not mingling in and seeing everything from outside and I don't feel any love for anything. Ma, Pa, Friends, Family. I don't love anything and anyone. I am just living just like that'. These are one of the things I could relate to myself.

The book ends in the grasses (real grass as in garden) of Ruskin Bond, the very great Bond. Some how he convinced Samrat by answering the question of Samrat's 'Why is he living in India even though he was born British', 'The sense of belonging is the true happiness'. Fuck That!!!! I think I have  to travel through Himalayas and fuck random gypsies and get stoned almost all the time and after that also I don't think I would feel whatever you have told Mr Bond. I would preferably get a BJ with my GF (FUCK, this itself is a big task for me as I have to first find a girl and make her my GirlFriend and ask her for a BJ) and this itself making me sleepy. So Happy Night Guys. Happy Deepavali!!!!
Have a blast with whatever way you wanted to be.

And please keep off the grass!!!!!

காதலும் கடந்து போகும்

                                                         

'Kaadhalum Kadanthu Pogum' is one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen which leaves me spellbound once the film is over. It depicts the most difficult things in life like unemployment, betrayal, love, ambition in a gentle and subtle way.

Yazhini is an ambitious engineering graduate who wants to live her life in her own independent way. Katiharavan is a foolish goonda who had been in jail for 5 years to protect his gang leader. When the cross roads of their lives meet, there evolves the naked raw emotions between them which people would take it as love, friendship or anything. Do we need to really define these emotions? I would probably leave those feelings as such.

The sole companion for Yazhini who has left her home and living in a unknown place is her next door neighbor Kathiravan. He was with her when she herself doesn't know that she needs someone as a companion. By being tagged as a rowdy she was initially skeptical and fearful about kathiravan. But when they started to talk, she came to know that he is very good at heart. she began to love this new feeling of her for him.

Kathiravan's ambition is to open a bar with the help of his leader. After all, he went to jail for him and he is expecting that he will help him by getting the license to open the bar. But, kathiravan started to feel that he was used by his leader as he is always procrastinating about the bar matter. He was wary about his girl next door Yazhini when she was moved in. By some curious and funny incidents they became close. He really enjoyed her talks when she was drinking and he was on cloud nine when they slept together after the booze without knowing for themselves. When Yazhini was asking him to come to her home and to fake as a network manager, the movie becomes more emotional. The dialogues and the scene in the temple between them in her home town is exceptional. Nothing special yet simple and splendid.

The relationship between people, either be a boy with a girl, a girl with a girl or a boy with a boy or whoever with whoever, will always start without having a definite name tied to them except the blood relationships. But for the sake of society and civilization, we are giving the name for the emotions like lover or friend or companion and then we would try to restrict our emotions to them based on the name that we have given to the relationship. Is it really necessary? When Yazhini was having drinks with kathiravan in his room, I don't think they have defined a relationship between them. Sometimes it is very good to be foolish and let the things happen its own way.

kathiravan has to fake like a interview candidate so that Yazhini would reach to the interview place in time and would take up the interview. The dialogues about the 'Opportunities in life' when he was caught faking the interview candidate is well written and is well executed by him. He has to choose between his own life and the life of a goonda under him. The decision he made and the implications of that decision and whether Yazhini got the job or not and whether they are happily married or not is the climax of the movie. Or whether all these things really happened or simply a dream.

The last scene of the movie is the best scene when the lead characters are smiling together for some unknown reason. What is the name of their relationship?  Do we really need to care about it? What is there in the fucking name? Let the viewer contemplate what they want to?

 Let the thread always dangle in the air and if we try to tie it to somewhere, one day or the other, it will always break off. Borrowing the words from Arundhathi Roy, "The civilization created the Love Laws that lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.”  Let's fuck that and untie all our threads. Kaadhalum kadanthu pogattum.

Layers of History

                                               

 
       Every second is a history to the following second. But we can't record the history of every second. The histories that are recorded in a film or in a book are the living versions of the past and they are the snapshots of that particular time and space. Whenever someone sees a film or reads a book, the history just relived in the minds of those people. And the history is also the subjective thing of the recorder of the events and obviously it is the perspective thing of the consumer of those recorded events. Putting it in a simple question, can we rely upon on the things that we read or see a recorded event of a time line? The answer is strictly NO. But I am afraid that we don't have any alternate way to know the past.

   It has been a wonderful journey through the lanes of Delhi in a reverse chronological order in the book 'City of Djinns' by William Dalrymple. It was like waking up daily and walking the same street but here the only difference is the time goes reverse. So, while I walk, the surroundings change drastically each passing day with the rise and fall of empires and kingdoms again and again and when I hit that time line beneath which I couldn't walk anymore as the recorded events were not there, I started retracing my steps only to find the same pattern of rise and fall of empires and kingdoms over and over again.If Time is Linear, why the same set of events (the only change being the participant of the events) happening in a circular pattern?

   Delhi. The City which is the powerhouse of Indian Polity and the center of power for around 1.25 billion people is the most cursed city in the world, I believe. It spilled more blood than any other city in the world in the recorded history in the struggle for power. As always to the any major city, Delhi lies on the banks of Yamuna, one of the main tributaries of the  River Ganges, one of the sacred river of the Hindus. Now, I am wondering Yamuna is so blood thirsty a river that she had drunk more blood than any other river in the world.

   The author started with the 90's life in Delhi in the 20th century and started spinning the wheel of time in the anti clockwise direction. The contrast between the Old Delhi and the New Delhi was so thick that the Old Delhi got struck in the past and the New Delhi was moving on. The surviving cultures of the Mughals and the beauty of the Urdu poetry and the people who are still speaking the pure Urdu are well illustrated. The lamenting of the Old Delhi wallahs against the new punjabi settlers, the complaining of the English people who stayed back after Indian Independence against the Indian Government, the loathing of different cultures and religions against one another seems to be because of the fact that everyone believed that Delhi belonged to them. But, Delhi never belonged to anyone but it is the other way around that everyone wanted to be a part of Delhi.

   The religious tensions between the people of Delhi were uncovered by the massacre of Sikhs in Delhi after Mrs Indira Gandhi was shot dead by her Sikh Bodyguards and  the riots that took place during the partition. A slight provocation in the name of religion could make the people to unveil their masks and show their original identity. Every faith and every kingdom wanted to change Delhi according to their beliefs. But Delhi never succumbed to anyone's.

   One of the best things that English left in India as their stamp is the Lutyens Delhi. This architectural wonder is the power house of India where the Parliament, President's House (Raisina Hill) and numerous high profile ministerial offices located. The anecdotes relating the Lutyens vision of creating a magnificent city in Delhi compared to that of European contemporaries were given precisely.

   The mutiny of 1857 and the subsequent destruction of Delhi's medieval structures by the British gives the real face of British. The writings of William Fraser, Metcalfe and the anecdotes about them gives us the glimpse of British's love for living in India with the then contemporary Indian Culture. The intricacies of the Mughal Buildings like the Red Fort, Qutb Minar, Jama Masjid, Nizam Ud din Tomb, Humayun Tomb etc were beautifully illustrated from the writings of those period's contemporaries. After  ShahJahan was dethroned and his third son Aurangzeb became the Emperor, the Mughal Kingdom started to deteriorate.

   The Eunuchs in Delhi during the Mughal period were patronized by the Royals and some of them were given high positions in the administrations of the kingdom. When the British recaptured Delhi after the mutiny of 1857, these Eunuchs were thrown out of the Royal buildings(like Red Fort) and now these eunuchs are living a life of shame and the current society sees them as Untouchables.

   The Kite festivals, pigeon fighting, poem recitals in Urdu, qawallis, nautch girls dances' are still happening in the alleys of Old Delhi. The dervishes, fakirs, scholars in Persian, Urdu, Arabic are diminishing day by day in Delhi. The city tries to erase the old memories and build a fresh one each passing day. The author got the help from one such scholar named Dr Jafferey who helped him to know the era of Shah Jehan(The golden period of Mughals), the beastliness and the splendour of the Red Fort, the philosophical debates regarding God in each religion, the legends of Khwaja Khazir, the myth of Djinns, the qawals, the faith of the dervishes etc.

   The Tughlaq's rule in Delhi was portrayed by the writings and anecdotes of Ibn Battuta. The city of Tughlaqabad and the subsequent Daulatabad in the Deccan were the capital's of Muhammed Bin Tughlaq. Every war, every conquest to capture the power in Delhi resulted in complete blood shed making the river Yamuna turning Red. It was like she always wanted to wear a Red Saree. During the conquest of Nadir Shah, 150 thousand people were massacred in a single day and this was the time where no furnaces were invented. Hitler would have ashamed of hearing that.

   The book contains majorly of Mughal history in Delhi and the subsequent British but only few glimpses are given to the other rulers. There were little information about Lal Kot, the capital of Rajas before the Sultans. The last few pages of the book captures the prehistoric period. The great war in Mahabharatha, the longest surviving Epic of the World, took place in Kurukshetra around the current Delhi. The authenticity of this Epic and the debates over this were given in the final pages. The family feud which erupted into a massive war resulted in millions of casualties. Delhi was destroyed and created continuously on the cost of thousands of lives. Every time it was destroyed, the blood spilled in Yamuna became a layer in her banks. Each layer formed under the banks of the river is the history of a civilization or a kingdom and She holds the innumerable layers of History. 

The lying Stones

   "What the fuck is this", Yazhini was screaming at her friends while seeing one of the ancient mysteries of the world, the Stonehenge. Her friends also couldn't get the rationale for making this haphazard structure as one of the  greatest civilization remains in the world.

   "This is what they call as one of the 'Prides of England'?, Crazy English People", Yazhini was laughing in a more sarcastic manner. They couldn't simply understand why a million people throng to this site every year. They felt they were duped. They couldn't digest the fact, that some stones which arguably didn't have any structure and have to be considered with an artistic value.

 

   Still the mysteries surrounding the stones are not yet resolved. Some of them are like, how the stones were carried from welsh mountains to the current place and what purpose that ruined structure exactly served. "But, So what? If some thing is unknown, should we have to assume that it is a great thing. That is insane.", Yazhini was arguing with herself. If these 20 to 30 stones structure is considered to be one of the great prides of mankind then the structures in her home country should be considered as the best.
 
   She came from a place of rich ancient culture and in that case, everyone in the world has their own culture and whether the culture is rich or low depends on the man totally who sees them. If the same kind of stones were there in her home country, will it get the same attention as that of now? The answer is fucking No. In her home country also, thousands of stones are there but each with rich artistic value of their own. "Art lies at the hands of the Artist", Yazhini was mumbling through her 2nd round of drinks. "What? What?", her friends asked. "They say that 'Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder' but actually 'We see the art from the eyes of the creator. It is as if we are manipulated by the artist'", Yazhini's eyes were shining  through the bonfire. "Oh! Oh! We have some philosopher ass also here. So Nitya you tell me "If you see the dick of your boyfriend, What do you think?", everyone laughed their hearts out.

      "I feel the English lacks artistic sense and look at the way they market this place around the world. They are the kings in manipulating the minds of the people", Yazhini told in a very languid and sarcastic manner. "Watch out your tongue. You are on the same land", one of her friends spiked the venom in her glass of anger. "So what? Do you think we should accept all the non sense of these so called highly cultured people. You can call me a hypocrite. You know what, if I am a bitch, I will not open my legs for these primitive and retarded people", Yazhini told cheerfully. "And what is that exactly called, Professional ethics", her friends making merry with her and she is also getting into the lighter mood.

   "And Churchill was calling us the primitives. Poor Churchill was not aware of our artistic values. Long live the glory of Churchill and the Crown." And they rise their glasses for the final time of that night and telling cheers "To the Stones".

'HALF', My Life

   'Half a life' is one of the books which took me so many days to complete, not because of the complexities of the writing or the intricate meaning of the words and the plot handled by the author but because of the simple reason, I didnt get much time to read. There could be multiple reasons for it but when I finished the book in a month, I became numb. I was very angry with myself to have completed the book. I had been in a vaccum for some days till I started reading the next book. It might have taken me a month to complete this book but whenever I started reading, from wherever I had left, I could get into the writing of V.S.Naipaul before I could complete the first two lines. That was the knack of writing of this Nobel laureate of Indian lineage.
   Coming to the context of the book, this was a story which was odd and at the same time very close to everyone. I would say, in my aggressive mind, this was the story of everyone. The title itself is telling the story, 'Half a life'. It was the story of an Indian in the mid 20th  century who wanted to become a revolutionist in his own terms but never fully understood the meaning of revolution and who had wanted to sling mud at his own past but didnt know what to do when the same predicaments of the past hit him. This was the story of a rationalist who didnt know that his life was not always carried by his rationalistic thoughts.
   Willie Somerset Chandran, named after the great writer Somerset Maugham ( I wish I could have read some of his writings before reading this book, but nevertheless, will try to read him in some time) was the son of a social outcast who later became a mystic and who had lived a curious life which was funny in a way. Chandran was given his eduction in an English missionary school whose core principles he had began to hate when he was at his secondary grade. He grew up with the principle of not to become like his father who, according to him was a pessimist and an illiterate who didn't have enough courage to face the world with all its worldly meanings.
   After coming to London to pursue his higher studies, he was mesmerised by the city but at the same time his heart and mind were wandering elsewhere. May be all of us in our waking hours doing the same thing. Thinking about something which we like but wont add any meaning to our life at that time and space. I am also one of them. A compulsive dreamer like Chandran. He had a close encounter on the first day itself with Krishna Menon who was then the high commissioner to UK and an representative for India in United Nations and who was there at that time in London to give a speech about the equality of rights for the coloured people in Africa and elsewhere. He didn't give much importance for that matter at that time. Later he realised that he, in London, was not different from those coloured people seeking Asylum in different countries.
   As with most of Indians at that time, Sex outside marriage was a taboo for him. But his sexual craving made him break that taboo and he was caught in many hilarious but funny situations. His tryst with the book writing with the stories that start in a random place and time made me write my first short story 'The Marriage Fever'. Naipaul's humourical sense was more evident in those short stories. As Khaled Hossaini in his book 'Kite Runner' wrote, the essential part of a short story is the irony it contains, Chandran's stories were full of ironies, humour and the societal menace.
   It was the time of cultural upheaval in London where the coloured people were fighting for their rights and that was the time for Chandran to become involved in this revolution in his own way. So when he had seen Ana, he knew that his future would be in her place, in Africa. They got married and went to live in her estate in Africa. The London life was over for him and he had no repentence or remorse for marrying that girl. They were head over heals for each other at that time.
   The later part of the book dealt with the African life of Chandran. Somewhat his life came to a full circle when he landed in that imperialistic country. The unrest Africa was always giving him some rest to his mind, thanks  to his African wife Ana. He was always thinking out of place in that place. The Portuguese colonialism and the mixed race people in that part of Africa reminded him constantly of his homeland. He was there because he didn't have any other place to go. When he encountered girls of 11 and 12 years of age and who had just came to puberty and who had putting their tiny nipples to the mouths of the random people, made him think that Sex was not that he had experienced before. After that he was on a rampage and involved full flegedly to satisfy his bodily needs.
  Finally when he left Africa leaving his wife Ana who had lived with him for almost 20 years, he thought that Africa was not the place he had wanted to live. Now he was homeless and directionless like millions of people around the world. He thought that marrying an African woman would give a sense of meaning to his revolutionistic ideas but after he had lived his life, he thought that he had made some blunder.
   I am not sure what Naipaul wanted to tell by this Novel but as with all the great writers, he put the onus on the reader's perception. Sometimes I thought to myself that as like Willie Chandran, am also a revolutionist who doesn't know what is revolution. Is revolution has a definition? Or is it abstract as most of the things in this world. As George Bernard Shaw has said,"You'll never have a quiet world till you knock the patriotism out of the human race". I am what Willie Chandran wanted in his life and am not sure what he wanted or I want in my life. My own Wilde has put it in different words, 'Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious'. Patriotism and the revolution go hand in hand. One is relying on the other to support one's cause. Finally, I would want to quote the Lenin's words which I read recently, 'There are decades where nothing happens and there are weeks where decades happen'. Is it so? May be. Without the 1857 mutiny, we are not what we are now. May be I will lose interest in these  things when I find them meaningful. Meaningless life makes our world meaningful, in a perceptional way. May be like me, many around the world lives only Half their life.
 

Let the RUN Continues ...

It doesn't matter whether you win this or not. I don't care even if you lose in the early stages also. You will always be remembered as one of the legends of your game. You will always continue to instill the determination and never give up attitude in the millions of people not only from
your country but also across this whole world. Many sportsmen are there in your country but even the people still think that you are the best ever sportsmen of your country.

I haven't seen your first match but I am fortunate enough for having seeing you from the early stages of your career. We grew up along with your every successes and failures in your professional career. It was we who got tired when you ran and ran and ran. Your toiling for a single point even though it
 would not won you the match was the attitude that we have learnt from you that not to lose confidence at any stage of our life.The sweat from you was converted into soft tears in our eyes when you won a match. The same sweat was converted into ever flowing tear in our eyes when you lost a match.

You are the embodiment of hard work, perseverance and whatever adjectives are used to describe your passion for winning. No this is not my obituary for your professional career. We are waiting to win the Ultimate!!! Let the tool in your hand wield magic many more times.