Does God really exist...

June 23rd, 2008.
Dear diary,
I ventured into unfamiliar territory today and emerged with cut marks on the heart. Ok, so I was only visiting a temple, this one being the Adiparashakthi temple at Melmaruvathur. But, my heart bled nonetheless.

Things in Tamil Nadu nowadays get so much out of hand that you’re left helpless and pleading for the country not to be thrown to the dogs. Like take for example my recent outing to a famous temple in Tiruvallur. Even as I entered the house of God, I turned around to check whether this really was a temple or a market place. On both sides of the aisle were shops selling garlands, flowers, cool drinks, water bottles, snacks and even paan. There is a line that separates commercialization and religion. But, that line seems to have disappeared. If this was not enough, a young priest approached me and asked me whether I would be interested in a special darisanam. It was a good thing considering the size of the crowd and our hurry to vacate the place. I diverted the young man’s attention to my father who agreed to it immediately. The priest said it would cost us Rs.200 i.e. Rs. 50 for each of us. My father, who might have sensed something amiss, asked the priest if he could lower the cost to Rs. 100. The asshole, who proclaims himself to be God’s servant, started to bargain and at last asked my father to give him a hundred and fifty rupees. You see, we’ve sunk to new lows in the treatment of God and people. You could easily understand from him bargaining that there is no such thing as a special darisanam and that it had been installed recently to serve the selfish interests of such young priests and his fellow mates. Using his influence among the security men who guard the gates inside the temple, he took us through some shortcuts and then linked us to the main crowd waiting for so long to catch a glimpse of the lord.

And if this ill-treatment had ended there I would have forgotten the incident as unimportant and a poor man’s desperate measure to find himself and his family some food. It didn’t. Even as we were waiting near the temple steps, one man with a container approached us saying “Sir… Prasadam” and gave us four glasses of sweetened milk. I began to think that this temple deserved better and started to believe that there really were some kind people around when suddenly this man said “Sir, Rs. 20” Oh, so they sell prasadam nowadays, huh ? Another so called priest, who was simply going through the motions of chanting to the lord in a disinterested manner, finally lit up when he sensed us near him waiting to shower money on his aarthi plate. But we were in no mood to as we wanted to put the money into the hundi. This asshole remarkably said “Archadai podunga sir…” “ Archadai podunga…” and when we started to move away to let the other people catch a glimpse, this man, gritting his teeth and eyes lighting dangerously up said “Archadai poduvengala mattingala” I was stunned for a moment but then anger took over me. It was then that I realized why this temple was so like a marketplace. I realized that this ass also would have pocketed the money if we had given archadai. Why else would he get so murderous and utter threats? I’m not cooking up these incidents just to attract interest to my blog; I’m genuinely concerned about the falling standards of religion and religious beliefs in our country. Where the hell is the local administrator? Where the hell is the local MLA? Have they even visited these temples? Or are they, just like these priests, getting money through illegal means and hence maintaining silence on the falling standards of the temple?

And that’s not all at all. The one thing I conveniently forgot to mention was the fact that the men, right from kids to grandfathers need to step into the temple half-naked. No, not the bottom part, just the top part. Just the top part, huh? Then what happens to a self-respecting youngster like me? And what the hell is the logic behind the move huh? Why don’t women go half-naked? Don’t the elders have any self-respect? Almost, all the time I see them they are half-naked. Even in homes, toilets and temples. Come on, you haven’t got the body of a Tom Cruise to flaunt it in every other place. And where the hell do the women turn their eyes to, then? Or is it that God bestows his blessings only upon half-naked men alone? Is it then that God is a woman who fancies half-naked men? These questions will remain unanswered as they form part of tradition and to answer it means sin to God himself. If you can’t, then you are not fit to even worship God. If half-naked men get all the blessings of God in the world, then those poor destitutes in the streets, the beggars and the people who live on the roadside, who haven’t got even proper clothing for their children let alone themselves, must have got the most blessings. But that isn’t the case, is it?

And still, that isn’t the end. I’ve forgotten to mention yet another tradition of ours to ward off the evil eye. Coconut-breaking. There was this couple with their child, a boy of about ten years of age. They had with them a coconut each. Dad went first, mom went next and the kid went third. But, in the end the kid was left hurt and crying on the temple ground by the parents who turned a deaf ear to his wailings and walked away as if they hadn’t heard him. The reason: The kid did not manage to break his coconut. But the father did manage to break his cheekbone and his heart by slapping him across the face. What these asses don’t understand is that to not break a coconut doesn’t necessarily bring you bad luck. But when you do not break it, then you go home feeling sad and dejected and brooding over the issue, not concentrating on other important matters on hand and voila… bad luck.

Even as you start to finally breathe fresh air outside the temple, palmists and beggars chase you till you reach the safety of your car and even then some gutsy beggar bangs the window of the car and mouths words till you've started the car and driven forward. If you had come walking? The thought sends shivers down my spine.

You see, I really haven’t got a problem with God, but I have a problem with the people who project an idol as god purely as a means of commercialization. As Kamal Hassan says in Dasavatharam “I never said that God doesn’t exist. I just said that it would be nice if He exists”

Playing with milk...

Someone from the crowd went up to the woman on the road and wiped her face with his dhoti.
What the hell! It was my mom.
“You ass… Dad’s come back and waiting and you’re still here playing the fool. Godamn it! Come on now, show time’s over.”
I grabbed her hand.
“Aargh… Come on, don’t irritate me now. Come on… Ok, I’ll get you the milk. Come on…”


“Rahul… Go out and get milk for me please. Be a good boy… It’s just a few minutes from here…”
“So, then why don’t you go get it, huh? Don’t bother me now, I’m busy.” I say fiddling with my mobile.



All fights in my family will boil down to this. While my mom shouts her head hoarse, I observe a staunch silence, which angers my mom even more. Wow, the fun you get out of this little game is a feeling you need to experience.

So again, it was my mom who put on her slippers and walked slowly out, leaving the front door open and not even bothering to inform me about her trip knowing fully well that I would be watching her behind her back.
“What the hell! Atleast close the door behind you if not anything else. Idiot!”

I loved shouting at her; I took immense pleasure out of making her cry. I don’t know the reason behind it. Maybe because it’s just a routine ritual nowadays. Like brushing your teeth in the mornings. Or maybe as she says, I don’t have a heart. But I swear, I hear my heart thump. So, it must be another of her numerous lies.

Time passed. My dad came home.
“Where’s mom?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I think she went out to buy milk.”
“Go, look for her. We both need to go for a meeting in an hour…”
“Ok dad…”

I didn’t dare disobey. I maintained a neat profile with my dad. I impressed him with my numerous antics. I love flaunting my good-guy image for this man’s sake. A brilliant case of multiple personalities.

I didn’t have any interest in looking out for her. To hell with her, I thought.

There was a road show taking place at the far end of the road. It had attracted a lot of people. I made my way toward the crowd.
The play was a good one. A woman was lying on the road as if dead and loads of blood-red paint had been smeared on her and on the road.
There was a guy, who pretended to be a doctor, taking her pulse and shaking his head. He then stood up and solemnly said “I’m sorry… She has died…” and started to walk away.

I clapped. It was a good play.
Everyone turned to look at me.
What?! Wasn’t that the climax?

Someone from the crowd went up to the woman on the road and wiped her face with his dhoti.
What the hell! It was my mom.
“You ass… Dad’s come back and waiting and you’re still here playing the fool. Godamn it! Come on now, show time’s over.”
I grabbed her hand.
“Aargh… Come on, don’t irritate me now. Come on… Ok, I’ll get you the milk. Come on…”
“Mom? Mom? Get up… please… I’m sorry, mom… please get up… mom? Please mom, I’ll get the milk… please… please…”

Dhanalakshmi college and what it offers...

June 20th, 2008.

Dear diary,

Wow, I’m so happy right now that I feel like a one-year old who’s been denied dolls to play with. The reason? Well, college re-opens on the 25th, just a week away… Isn’t that reason enough? To say that I’m looking forward to it would be a bit of an understatement. In fact, it would be an overstatement. It’s back to that strenuous routine, back to the boring old books and back to the uninspiring old teachers. Come on, though I mention the 5 am to 6 pm routine many times, it still doesn’t bring forth the pain associated with it. And no, no one can understand the pain-in-the-butt sensation I undergo even thinking of it. You see, I absolutely detest going to college, not because I’m lazy, but I’ve never been put through living hell thirteen hours a day, five times a week. My college, though among the best in terms of infrastructure and faculty, fails miserably when it comes to organizational capabilities. You see, there is not even a proper college day, a proper cricket field or even a college magazine to boast of. All those guys with a little bit of talent in certain fields, feel frustrated and resort to cursing and blogging. I don’t blame them. Come on, after all we have no outlet for our innate talent. At least, this serves as an outlet for inner anger.



Unless I’m doing what I love, I despise to put in my sweat and that was the case in the recent first year exams. Give me space, please. I’ve been studying so hard for these twelve years, I deserve a break. And, you can’t always put up with absurd equations and irritating circuits over and over. Something’s got to give, somewhere down the line. And, life’s not all about marks. Marks are important yes, but they can’t buy you talent. And to think, the old fashioned professors at this college eat marks for breakfast, makes you puke. And when someone like me, proposes to help these monsters turn human, you could almost smell defeat for the valiant in the lost cause. It’s one thing, when the teachers accept your idea of starting a college magazine and at least assign you a post in the editorial board. It’s another thing, when the teachers, rub you the wrong way, pass the idea as their own, get a newsletter started instead of a magazine and not even consider you for the board, citing behavior as a reason for your ouster. Get real. To think that this college still dreams of being the numero uno college in Tamil Nadu by 2010 makes for a better joke than Vijay’s stunts. How do you plan to do it? By ejecting talented youngsters out? And you see, the newsletter still hasn’t made it to my hands let alone the stands.

I can go on and on like a moron, but that’s the thing about this college. You never get enough time to curse it. Sometimes I do have the urge to join an arts college with timings very much to my liking, but then God still decides to bind me to this crap for three more years. Just three more years! they say. Fish, that means 1095 days. And 1095 x 24 =? is a dangerous and frightening calculation. ‘I understand’ is the only shit I get as a compliment. Fish, I work eight hours more than you do, everyday! And do understand, engineering is not as simple if one had done his 12th in CBSE. I also have a brain which yearns to fly in bliss doing what I love most and not cramp itself in useless mounds of shit. I dare everyone who thinks of engineering as a stroll in the park to actually take a stroll in the park instead of beating the bush. Be me for a year. You’ll detest the role change. Just ask all those engineers out there. Someone said to me a little while before “Throw a stone anywhere in Chennai, it’ll hit either a beggar or an engineer “. Well, I say “Throw a stone anywhere in Chennai, it’ll hit an enjoying life-r or an engineer “

Dasavatharam and the genius in Kamal Haasan...

June 18th,2008.

Dear diary,

So, while everything good and bad was written about the movie, I still hadn't watched it. But, I didn't have to wait long. I had a early morning call at around 9 a.m. from my friend who invited me to watch " Dasavatharam " and I grabbed at the opportunity. So, I car-ed to Abirami Mega Mall at around 2.30 pm for the matinee show of the movie.

I'm not here to condemn the film outright as an also-ran nor am I here to put it under the butcher's (read critics') knife and dissect it. The sheer magnitude of work put into this film, which is the first of its kind in world cinema history deserves applause and not critisism.

The film is a grand entertainer. It begins with a great shot of Chennai from the sea front. Kamal ( The scientist ) is addressing the massive chepauk crowd (limp graphics) in the presence of the American President Mr. George Bush (Kamal again !), Mr. Karunanidhi (no, not Kamal !) and Mr.Manmohan Singh (no,again,not Kamal !!).

The film then takes us into the 12th century, where Rangaraja Nambi ( Kamal as a staunch Vaishnavite ) opposes the removal of Lord Vishnu's statue from the temple. He faces the wrath of the ruler (Napolean) and is hence tied to the statue and thrown into the sea (No, Kamal doesn't perform antics to survive, unlike Vijay!!). A special mention about Kamal here. Great body. Wow ! Surya, Vikram, Sarath, go to hell !!

The story then cuts back to the US where Govind (Kamal as a scientist) and his team discovers a deadly virus (that can be put off only be dissolving in NaCl). When a lab monkey dies after consuming a sample of the virus, the boss of the laboratory centre decides to sell the virus to enemies in return for tons and tons of money. So, Govind steals the vial (in the form of a chocolate bar) containing the virus and escapes. This catches the attention of the American president George Bush (Kamal), who finances the project and decides to send Chris Fletcher (Kamal as an ex-CIA agent)and his tamil translator Mallika Sherawat to capture the vial. Fletcher kills Govind's friend and his wife, a Chinese, but Govind eludes capture by a whisker and jets out to India.

At the Tamil Nadu airport, Govind is frisked away by the officials (who take him and Fletcher to be international terrorists) led by Balram Naidu ( Kamal as a RAW officer ). Govind just about manages to escape the clutches of both Balram and Fletcher and makes a beeline for the exit. Meanwhile, a Chinese martial artist (Kamal again) who happens to be the chinese woman's brother decides to make his way to Tamil Nadu too, to kill Govind, who he thinks killed his sister.

Amidst the confusion, the package somehow finds its way to interior Tamil Nadu, into the house where Krishnaveni (Kamal as a 95 year old woman) and Aandal (Asin) live. Even as Govind tried in vain to convince Krishnaveni that the package contains a dangerous virus, Fletcher and Balram catch up with him. Out of sheer desperation, Kamal hides the vial within a statue of Perumal, thus drawing God-fearing Aandal into this cat and mouse chase.

From there on, it is an edge-of-the-seat escapade with Balram and Fletcher pursuing him. At around this time, characters like Avtar Singh ( Kamal as a Punjabi pop singer suffering from cancer ), Vincent Poovarahan ( Kamal as a Dalit leader ) and Khalifullah Khan ( Kamal as a 8 foot muslim ) make an appearance and contribute in one way or the other to the chase.

However, Fletcher finally catches up with Govind and grabs the vial from him. He swallows the vial in the hope that the virus would spread and cause the death of millions of lives. When everything seemed lost for mankind, suddenly, the tsunami of 26th December, 2004 strikes. The sea water ( containing tons and tons of NaCl ) manages in putting off the deadly virus but not before causing the death of thousands of people including that of Vincent Poovarahan ( a painful, pitiful death ) and Fletcher.

That's not all. Even as Govind drives home the point that God alone can save this world, the remains of the statue of Lord Vishnu ( minus the body of Rangaraja Nambi ) re-surfaces. It makes me wonder as to what point Kamal wanted to convey by the re-emergence of the statue.

Though the film can boast of a world class script of this magnitude, I still feel that there is something missing in the film. Is it the screenplay or the dialogues ? Or maybe the direction ? I still can't find out.

It's an Oscar for Kamal surely. The effort and the hours of hard work into the making of the film shines through. Kamal stands out in each of his characters. His portrayal of Chris Fletcher is amazing, the only drawback being his Indian accent of speaking English. Maybe he wanted his modulation to differ from that of George Bush who speaks impeccable American-English. His roles as Vincent Poovarahan ( Dalit lingo ), Balram Naidu ( Tamil with Telugu lingo ), the Chinesh martial artist ( Chinese lingo ), Ramanuja Nambi ( Pure Tamil of 12th century ) and Avtar Singh ( with a Punjabi-Tamil accent )deserve special mention and praise. His portrayal of Krishnaveni passes muster, the betrayer being the voice, which ranges from croaky to corny.

Critics have condemned the role of Khalifullah Khan in the film looking at it only as a role-filler. But, however, I pledge to differ. It is one of his best portrayals, ever. I mean, the childish innocence of a five-year old is difficult to portray but Kamal stuns you. I almost wanted to tweak the Muslim's cheek for his cute expressions and innocence looks.

If, even after taking World Cinema to a new height by making a film that traverses religion, belief, boundaries and the old school of thinking, Kamal doesn't get the Oscar for the Best Actor, then here's my warning to the Oscar guys.

God alone can save you....

God, Abbas and the falls....

June 8th- June 15th, 2008.

Day 1

Finally, I'm back at ground zero. Though the trip to Kutralam was great and mind-relieving, there's nothing better than home sweet home. So, if you ask me what's the best thing about my trip to Kutralam, I'll say it is the journey back home !

On my way to Kutralam by train, I asked my fellow passenger whether there would be any chance of us (family of 4) to bath alone. That man looked at me through his glasses for a second, tch-tching as if I was mad, and said " My God, are you nuts ? The fact is first of all, there's no rain at Kutralam and second, if at all there is, crowds of people will already be bathing there anyway." He turned away and shook his head, maybe cursing God for making me his neighbour. I went back to reading Godfather by Mario Puzo, a little let-down by the news.

Our room in Kutralam was specially booked for us, courtesy one of my Dad's infinite friends and boy, I must thank him for it was the best room I've ever seen throughout my travels. I mean, the room itself was ordinary but it was the view. Extraordinary. The Kutralam falls right in front of you and you could feel my excitement. I just wanted to reach out and touch the skies.

Of course, there was no water falling but the rock itself was magnificent. Nature's wonders never cease to amaze you. I, of course, felt a little sad that I could not see it flow and I didn't have much hope either. The sky was clear and the temperature, hot !

Anyway, I had no time to dwell over the matter and brood, because we went out to have lunch. The name of the hotel was Akshaya and it would turn into our favorite haunt in the days to come. The food was just about excellent and the service, great. We came back to our room (A.C.,thankfully...!!! )and unpacked our bags and then I took a short nap.

I woke up with a start as my mom shook me awake. " Come on now.. let's go sight-seeing... " she said. So, I looked out of the balcony towards the waterfalls and I was disappointed. There was still no water fall. " Come on now, we'll go visit Old Kutralam, we'll see if there is any water there. " So, it was then that we set upon what I thought was a surely fruitless journey to Old Kutralam in search of water. We caught hold of an auto driver, Abbas, who must have surely not believed his luck.

Our driver, Abbas

Anyway, once we reached Old Kutralam, my family (save me) were stunned to find no water ( and no crowd... ) there too. What else do you expect ? So, we had an unenviable job of just looking at the rocks and the birds. I managed to catch a few of them on camera.

A crow, delicately poised

The rocks, not the falls...

On my back, cornered...

But, then suddenly came this gentleman along with his life companion (his dog) and threw us a cheap lifeline at Rs. 100. He said that he would go to the mountain top and push water from there so that we could take a bath. We were a bit skeptical but we decided to give it a try. At least, fly and fall instead of lie and sleep, right ?

God, and his friend...

Anxious wait....

Beyond our wildest dreams, water began to fall and we were shocked to even move for a few seconds. Then, we joyfully, took a bath... Just the four of us...

My mom and I...

My mom, my sis and I...

I guess life plays many games... I couldn't help but think of the man on the train. Water was falling and we were surely, alone and bathing !!! Seeing us bathe, some people came over and waited for us to move out.But, we were in no mood to. After all, who gets to bath in hundred rupees fall everyday ?

When we finally finished bathing, we couldn't help but notice eager people rushing towards the falls. But, then the flow of water had stopped, God descended from the mountains and proclaimed that there is absolutely no more water up there. Hurrah !

Part-II The dream continues....

June 5th, 2008.

Part-II

Dear diary,

So, here we are after the half-time interval... For all those who found the film interesting in the first half, expect more of the same. And for all those who didn't ? Well, if you could manage to get through a three hour Vijay film, surely, this will be bread and butter for you guys.

The hero was accompanied by Ms. Kanimozhi, Ms. Tamilacchi, Mr. Subramanium, Mr. Arcot Veerasamy (no... not T.R...), Mr. Veeramani and others, but we're talking of heroes and not bits and pieces players.

I would not like to go into the details of the function and how each of the poets performed, but if I say my mom was the best on the day, you'd probably say that I'm blowing my own trumpet, so I'm not going to. Those present at the function can justify, anyway. And, maybe, I'm not that big a poet or a tamil literature maniac to judge people on the basis of their poems but even a lay man can judge a poet on the basis of the number of claps that you get. That might also not be fool-proof as some over-enthusiastic supporters, might want to show their love for Kalaignar by clapping for every mono-sylabble that is uttered.

Whichever way you look at it, my mom won hands-down. And anyway, this isn't a competition or a race where winner takes all. So, as long as one enjoys the function, the better it is for the poets themselves. Though, for my mom's wit in writing a 'daughter-to-father' letter to Kalaignar himself, I would still rate my mom's performance as one of the best, come what may. Kanimozhi was in awe, (as was everyone else) when she said " Unnai paadatha Kavignar illai, paadathavan Kavignar-e illai " and in splits when she said " Atleast give me an MP seat... " but again as I said we are talking about heroes here.

After the function ended, Mr. Karunanidhi went upto my mom and said " nalla paningamma. Santhippom... "

That was not all. A crowd of people (!) flocked around my mom and pestered her for autographs and amidst the melee, I nicked an autograph from her by posing as a commoner. There was just too many people around her for her to notice. It was a solid thirty minutes before she could escape and get into our car. Throughout the journey home, we dissected and discussed the function over and over.

As soon as we reached home, I asked my mom for dosas and she gladly obliged, her role as a poet now forgotten. When I woke up this morning at seven, I saw my mom at her table writing for the function. I went into the kitchen hoping to alteast have two slices of bread for breakfast, but she had prepared dosas for breakfast and sambhar, rasam, pulikozhambu, vaazhai kaai poriyal, kootu and thayir for lunch. Wonders never cease...

My mom is also the official chauffuer of the family as my dad doesn't drive, and she also handles all the finance of the family. She also hits the gym, goes to office till 6.00 pm, prepares breakfast, lunch and dinner and also coffee or tea ten times a day at various timelines according to the whims of the family members. Apart from this, she attends various functions like this one and writes short stories, poems for magazines and lyrics for films. I'm not proclaiming my mom as the best in the world, all moms are, but I'm just saying to a certain Shobaa De in no uncertain terms that you don't need to shun family in the pretext of writing.

When we have moms, we take it for granted that they need to serve us for life before we dump them at an old age home. My mom and I fight to no ends, every day in fact, but it's all part and parcel of life. It's almost become a ritual and we enjoy performing it. Maatha, Pitha, Guru, Theivam (Mom, Dad, Teacher, God...) can never be more relevant.

Bye Bye Dear diary....

June 7th,2008.

5.30 pm

Dear diary,

The time has arrived for our departure. We will leave the shores of Chennai today and seek adventure in Kodaikanal. The train leaves at 7.30 pm tonight. I'm really sorry that I'll be leaving you unattended for a few days.

These few days have been the best days of my life. I've been really linked to you more at a personal level than at a profesional front. I'll be really missing you for the next one week. But, don't you worry, when I come back, I'll surely dust you out and begin our relationship, again.

Thanks for all the memories. Take care.

Pssst: I'll publish Part-2 of the previous letter when I come back, for sure.

The man, M.Karunanidhi, himself....

June 5th, 2008.

Part- I

Dear diary,

Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. I could not have imagined it to even turn out the way it did. It was right out of a Harry Potter novel. Everything went right for us. I mean, I finally took a bath after a gap of four "long" days (or was it five ?!!!) ... That in itself was an achievement. This was one plot that couldn't go wrong from there on.

We reached Kalaivanar Arangam at about 6 o' clock. One hour late considering the schedule. But, even the trains here in Chennai reach their destination atleast an hour late, so the less said about kaviyarangams, the better. Anyway, it meant that we arrived for our function not an hour late but an hour EARLIER than was required. That aptly sums up why Dasavatharam is finally releasing four months behind schedule.

So, at 7.00 pm, the organisers finally started the kaviarangam. Mr. Abdur Rehman was the chairperson of the symposium. He started off brilliantly well and was in his elements. He did crack some witty jokes and passed some brilliant comments. But then suddenly a murmur was heard. Soon, the murmur turned to a clamour and one man rushed into the hall perspiring and announced " The Chief Minister is arriving..." (Hear.. Oh hear... His Highness Mr. M. Karunanidhi varaar... varaar...!!!! ). Ok, so then all stage activities were abruptly stopped and the writers (which includes my mother...) on stage made a swift exit. That's what I like about Tamil nadu. Even during film shoots, there would always be tough competition amongst the crew as to who will reach the sets last. So, when the director and the stunt master reach the sets an hour late, the lead actor goes one better and reaches two hours later. It's an interesting game to play you know. That is, unless you are the lucky one... The producer...

This was the moment I was waiting for... I yearned to see the man who had captured millions of hearts, who had inspired crores of young minds, who had helped lakhs of people... I was waiting for that moment when I could finally see the living legend himself.

That moment didn't come anytime soon. You see, these functions teach you a lot of things that our books don't. They teach us to be patient and wait(!)...and wait(!!)...and wait (!!!) for all the good things to come to us. So, to ward off the boredom, the people started chanting. One man went up to the mike and said " Kalainar..." and the crowd that was brought in to fill up the seats chanted " Vaazhga "... I can understand devotion for God, but such an occurence ? This demi-god hadn't even reached the premises !

But, then I guessed that His Highness had finally arrived by noting the crowds of his bodyguards in mufti who rushed into the hall head first. But it was an excruciatingly long walk for the CM. He had to take an eternity to reach his seat. He was walking with small, uncertain steps, his arms thrown around two of his close relatives. They were almost carrying him through length of the hall. I felt sorry for him. Then the enormity of the situation suddenly began to strike me. The hall suddenly seemed to grow silent, the chants began to grow louder, all eyes began to focuson the tiny man walking down the aisle. It was THE moment when I realised what this small man had acheived. All the while, I was filled with just pure tongue-in-cheek remarks about his glory days. But it was at that moment that made me look back at all those Voldemorts, Hitlers, Bonapartes, Gueveras, Gandhis, Nehrus... This man was surely in their league. You might reject him outright, you may not support his many ideals, you might dislike the way he has run the government and go on and on about his ruthlessness, his greed etc., but just spare a thought for that man in a humanatarian sense. This one man has, through his lifetime, changed the entire face of Tamil literature. I'm not talking about his political acheivements here at all. But his contribution to Tamil literature is indeed immense and cannot be ignored. I couldn't help but think of him as a real-life Godfather. I was overcome by emotion. This man was almost losing his ability to walk, but not his devotion to Tamil literature. As the audience finally started to applaud, he took his seat and I couldn't help but join in.

3.30 pm...

June 4th, 2008.

3.30 pm

Ok, so even as I'm putting on final touches for looking good at the function, I can't help but take some time off for writing this piece. I'm quite happy and excited right now. My mom is barking her head off across the hall and the car is waiting patiently for our arrival. I seem to be the only one with my brains firmly on top of my shoulders at the moment, as even my sister is running about in circles looking for something. My dad is making frantic calls to my mom's mobile which go unanswered. Ok, it's a big occasion I agree, but do we need to lose our heads ? And anyway, we don't have much to lose... in terms of time or brains...

I need to wrap up right now if I have to reach the function hall with my parents by the car. Else I'd have to make do with a special van. Some call it the AMBULANCE... Take care... I'll keep you updated...

Yesterday Today Tomorrow....

June 2nd, 2008.

Oh no... My old habit loves me so much. I'm getting a bit tired... you see, I've been trying really hard not to put off things for the next day, but it seems that I'm destined to do so time and time again. So, here am I, again, writing about yesterday, today !

Things have started to really look up for us these recent weeks. We've been so happy these past few days that we all managed to actually laugh off a Chennai Super Kings defeat. Imagine that ! Ok...ok... On a more serious note, I've been able to laugh off a chapatti that spent too much time painting itself black. Well, you get the situation, don't you ? We've been so happy this weekend that it may send wrong signals to our neighours who might think we've won a million dollar lottery. We've won nothing of that sort, let me assure you. But, we've achieved quite a bit.

My mom, as some of you know, is an accomplished writer in Tamil literature. And she's female. That's quite an achievement in itself. I mean, being female is not an acheivement (!), but being a female writer in tamil is... Ok, so here's the situation. She has been asked to share stage space with the likes of Mr. Vairamuthu, Mr. Abdur Rehman, Mr. Mehta, Mr. Selvaganapathi and Mr. Karunanidhi apart from accomplished film personalities like Mr. Bhakyaraj, Mr. Deva, Manorama, Khusboo, Chinni Jayanth, Manivannan etc., But the fact is that she would read out poems and verses in praise of the greatest Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. The occasion: Thiru M. Karunanidhi's 85th birthday celebration. This is not the first time that she's doing it. She's already done it with Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam when he was president. But of course, this would be the first time Mr. Karunanidhi celebrates his 85th birthday. (Bad pun, right...?) But, what's there to celebrate about for me ? It's just another boring itenary that I would do well to skip. But I'm not sure my mom would take it too kindly if I give her the slip ( I had already done so with Mr. APJ !!). I'm quite sure it'll be an eventful evening in two days time. I'll be out there amongst the crowd somewhere, savouring the moment and enjoying the function (Yawn...!!!).

Meanwhile, I watched "300" and I was impressed. But it wasn't that great a movie. I mean, it was full of passion and valour, but then I expected them to make it more heart-breaking. The 300 spartans die in heaps and that took the sheen of the film itself. Had they fallen one-by-one then the film would have been appreciated better.

Anyway, I'm going to watch "Ocean's eleven" now... So, it seems like it's curtains for yesterday's activities. I'll write about today, tomorrow !! Advanced happy reading....

Asin's knee is injured... my foot !!!

June 1st,2008.

So finally, I've stepped back into the present. It was necessary for me to actually start from the near past to ensure a continuity of thoughts. So, now " I'm back... " billa-style !!!

You see I'm getting a bit bored writing about nothing in particular. Now, I know how tough it is for all the news channels and all those newspapers especially Deccan Chronicle to constantly churn out yarns in an attempt to tempt the public. My mom calls them "grinders"... Really appropriate. You see, I'm really impressed by your lot. But, i'm feeling sorry for you too. I feel that you people have a future as scriptwriters in movies. You do make up such amazing stories. On the unbelievabilty ratings, it'll give Vijay's stunts in Kuruvi tough competition. So, seeing your talent wasted for a meagre pay every month, my heart sheds a tear or two for you guys !!!(was that good ? Can i now become a scriptwriter too ?!!!) Here's news for your lot... I recently saw Asin with a wound on her knee. That surely must be a love bite, what do you guys say ?

I've been listening to Kenny G for a while now and I can't get over my feelings of utmost amazement at his magical touch with the saxophone. It's divine and a must hear. Almost all of my time is devoured by this sudden infactuation of mine.

I've been ordering some of my good friends to take a look at my blog. Whether or not they followed my order is another matter but I can assure you that they opened blogs of their own. Talk about returning favors ! I've got tough competition to ward off now... I'm happy for them. It'll keep them engaged (not in the other sense...) and will help them explore themselves a little more. However, here is a warning for you guys... Just because I told you that Asin's knee is injured, don't open a topic on your blog sympathizing for her... The world doesn't need any more scriptwriters... We have enough. Whew...!