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.