... the show must go on.
Nothing changes. Maybe a few bedbugs that had erstwhile lived on my blood may die. Although I feel sorry for those lives, there is not a lot I could do. I believe that if I survive, I could always feed many more bugs that'd black-cat me. (Refer to my prev blog post for what I mean by Black-cat.)
Tina (my landlady) may not have to look out and see if there is Varun loitering around in the front yard or back yard before going out. Assuredly she can go about her chores/ walks without having to forcibly participate in conversations struck by me.
Vinay can, without scruples, go about watching movies and TV, partying about the place, guzzle tons of rice at one go (even become a Vodka distributor, maybe) and do anything he wishes to and Varun will not criticize him. Vaibhav can pretend to be an angel that he is not for all he cares. Will Varun be able to find out? Nope! Pavan can continue his daily mad-scientistry at UIC for another 3 years without worrying that someone would point fingers at his ways of daily life. Konark will lose out on not much. He won't have to worry about someone reminding him that Chicago may not be the best place for an Electrical Engineer like him. The only loss is losing one of the fellows who'd discuss life at Wipro!
Saahithi will surely be the most relieved of all people. The 'egoistic', 'proud' and 'boastful' Varun will not be around to make her life look ordinary. Sapna won't have a lightly flirtatious guy trying to make a gazillion trip plans for a group of which, eventually, only a 10% may materialize. The more recent close friends in Bhavani, Smruthi, Ryan will surely miss Varun but will also have ways of finding themselves easier and more fun friends than him. (It is not all that easy to replace the fun that the duo of Babbaii and Raingod can provide!) Nisha, Sruthi and Sacheeta will be spared of the ordeal of Varun and his aura! No one to breathe down her neck claiming that her sister is the prettiest in the world :p; no one to call her 'jaanemann' and try to make her smile; no one to comment on the 1-D body and her cuteness/prettiness. Pranali will miss 'someone' at all but the kind of person she is, she will have plenty of overwriting people. Teja (Miss Warangal) will no longer be able to have a guy trying to recollect which beautiful actress she resembles - perenially!
Pushkar and Venkat are safe already because they left Chicago for their work. Now how does this affect my personal life? I have not much clue except that my pockets will start getting regularly filled. I am happy to get started with this new phase of life. It let's me not only survive but also thrive and be able to spend time in future with friends - as opposed to theoretically staying in Chicago "forever" (romantic yet cruelly impossible).
On the flip side of this all, moving to Champaign can so easily be pushed away as "Oh he is not going really far!" I already had almost everyone say it. My wisdom and experiences tell me that that is the first sign of readiness to let go off! Presence, companionship, memories, ... etc! Everyone thinks, "Oh he is always gonna be around!" I'd think, "I can always make it to any party, meeting or plan..." At this moment I'd neither support nor refute this half-developed theory. I'd be glad to have as many people as possible to have fond memories of me! (Oh wait! I am not yet dying! :D )
I'd enjoy a bye-bye call or visit.
PS: The grievances, due to Varun, of some of the people who black-catted him are greatly understated. Some or all of the specimen have a truckload of complaints on him. But then hey! What good is it having yet another bland acquaintance!
Parting shots:
So what, one may ask, are Chicago/UIC going to lose by the moving out of Varun?
Possible statistics will reveal improvements in:
1) Average height of humans in Chicago.
2) Average strands of hair per square-inch of scalp.
3) Average sanity level in general.
4) Average speed of eating a meal.
5) Number of inquisitive and question-mark expressions.
There will be a reduction in:
1) number of adventurists/triers in the city.
2) number of Walking-enthusiasts.
3) number of movie-critics, esp those movies by Tom Cruise and his kin (acting-wise). (Oh how horrible agonizingly painful it is to watch his movies. I'd rather watch our native - Rajnikanth's - movies than Tom Cruise's!)
4) average beer consumption in the city/ university.
5) number of odd jokes which get a "I don't know what that was about..." reaction!
Again not an exhaustive list, but then the idea was to have some parting shot at all... Adios friends! Adios UIC! Adios Chicago!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
More sheep in sheep van
I decided there had to be a sequel. Why every famous/great movie has sequels! So the itch to write a sequel was always there. Cutting the flab, here is the flesh! Characters commonly black-catting the paths of members of 918 S Claremont are being presented. (I am - I guess - the first one to use this term. So let me claim credit to having coined the term - 'black-catting' - after the way they're known to cross paths. No! Not unwelcome! But never mind...) So when you are stuck with some of the terms/names etc refer to this article
Konark Upadhyay:
Nickname: Bhopaali, Goo-padhyay
Indian Name: The one who can't ever make up his mind for nuts. [(Well, you could also wonder if he ever could make up his mind for nuts!!! Also "Mind OR Nuts?" is a question he'll be baffled about!) Don't even get to "Why did the chicken cross the road?" kind of questions. It'll take as much time for him as it would for a toddler to recite Theory of Relativity!]
The world's most gullible man!
A brief history: He was all set to be the world's smartest guy in Bhopal! Then Bhopal gas tragedy happened. Those fumes rewired his circuitry. So not only is he dumb, but he also doesn't try to hide it. Probably that's why he can't be anything but gullible.
Often heard exclaiming: "Huttttt!" "Teri aisi ki taisi!" "Bhaaaiiindiiiii" (Okra/ Lady's fingers) (Euphemism for humble opinions on ones sister) "Ewwmwmmmwmwmw" <--- You have to utter that by widening your lips while keeping them closed and make a grinning sound like a kid does when he is satisfied upon licking his favorite icecream.
Believes in: "Ain't no shit!" and "Life's a beach (another misleading euphemism)" both of which were inspired by the times the author and him roamed about the streets of Chicago (UIC side) as newly-landeds in USA. He was newly-wed with Vinay though.
Best man: Being a one-man-for-life kinda guy, he swears by Chinta's bed (or love)! So the actual best man for their wedding would be either the author or McPuss. Will readily believe and agree with him.
Never known for: Picking up phones at first attempts. Believing that there is more to USA than Chicago. Picking up someone his size. (Ask Nisha - refer below - a new recruit who is trained in abusive Hindi words by him for free. And he never speaks expletives in front of us guys!!!) Agreeing to a plan at the first go.
Best memories: His fights for girls. The very famous fight with the author to compete to take a girl (Dream :p) out on date will always be something to chuckle at. Diwali night when the author, rice-guzzler and Bhopali were the only ones dressed in Indian-wear and together looked like 3 apes.
If McPuss is the one to get thrashed by everybody at 918 S Claremont and if McPuss were to think he was the only victim, then he only need to look at this Felix-the-cat-like-looking-fellow to feel superior. Even Pushkar can thrash him verbally!
Caution (to women): Known to weaken knees with his cuteness. (That is, until he opens his mouth/mind!)
Currently: Not able to decide between... "Chicago OR Chicago?" (That's tough too) and "Girl A or Girl A?"
Saahithi Gunda:
Indian name: One who, if acted, as her last name suggests, then life would be called a spoof! One who can beat Konark in indecisiveness! One who is the last one to get ready for any trip. One who has a cat-walk way of swaying not only her hips but also her words.
The way she stretches every word and pulls it apart, she'd take a light year (make that light-many-years) to to convey even a "Hello" Come to think of it, it should be evident from how she spells her name with 'aa'!
Nickname: Saa, Saasweet (LMAO what an email ID)
Often seen: At the epicenter of 'aa' and 'aaarrrrghghg' and 'yeeooowww' from a single person or a group of people in reaction to her presence or her jokes.
Her brother-by-choice (Black-ticket-seller Chinta) is known to have begun praying for the peace and sanity of the one who'd marry her. Such is the shudder that the thought is supposed to evoke in any man considering marrying her.
Funniest when: She speaks Hindi. Not that her native Telugu would make the listener get serious about life and philosophy! Her wannabe chat lingo and spellings attract all sort of mockery from Varun. Has an amazing success rate with misplacing aiches (Uttering an 'h' sound when there isn't one! Mainly when attempting Hindi...) "Thuu khhyaa khar raa ain"<--- "Tu kya kar raha hain?" The rate at which she can successfully swap h's can put to shame a mosquito flapping its wings!
Best feature: Her dimples. (Not the ones in her brain, but actual dimples on her cheeks. Ok! It is A DIMPLE on A CHEEK! For all the ambiguity in most of her language, she insists on being clear about her dimple.)
Fairly often uses: "Aba chaa!" ('Yeah right' in Telugu.) (Keeps whining about something or the other!)
Determined to/Aim in life is to: Take inquisitiveness to another level. That is, to ask irrelevant questions at the wrong time and make sure to ask questions when all she should be doing is to get ready quickly and join the rest of us to some place/restaurant/temple.
Shruti Eravelli (Reddy):
Indian name: One who will not let air waves be filled with peace. (918 people are known to hide away in closets at the sound of her arrival. Esp Pushkar... Very much like people running helter skelter to escape Godzilla!) One who believed that kids were born when 2 people kiss (for a long time).
Nickname: Nautanki, Red-eye
Family traits match with: Her brother-by-choice - Konark - in how dumb/gullible (D&G) one could be. Chinta and Varun told her many cock-and-bull stories in the first few weeks of their acquaintance. Somewhere her rebel traits overtook. She grew out of that phase (D&G) faster than her brother and Saahithi. She is also proud of the fact that she was a good kid, not a nuisance and entertained herself while her parents were getting married. (Her question to her mom asking why she wasn't there in their wedding pics was thus successfully answered by her mom. Smart lady! Knew how to shut her daughter without more embarrassing questions being asked.)
Loves to: Embarrass guys. Has taken ass-crack pics of an open-minded and equally open-jeans-ed Babbaaiii. Trample over a sleeping Pushkar. And then trample over his remains. Burst out into peels of laughter (this could be in conjunction with 2 previous activities or independently). Ask "Am I looking fat!" and not listen to any answer at all. Mess around with Facebook names of Babbaaiii Roxxx!
Her determination to do well in life is revealed in how she earnestly begged the 918 S C guys to slap her and stop her if she over-drank the next time.
Her Telugu or wannabe Telugu is what makes a listener believe that it is worth living another day just to hear her speak. After all, what is life without a good dose of laughter and fun and mockery!
Metaphysical Features: A gentle lisp to her speech and can any day be flattered by calling her "Kareena Kapoor". That, I believe, would come with an expiry date. Don't try this 10 years later!
Exclaims: "Maarungi haan!" "Nautanki hai tu!" "What man!" and singing songs here and there tid-bits of songs and dancing to them. "Kaminey!"
Can join Pavan's club of "Iron-y man" for: Being ironical. For all the open messages she has for Chinta, she would get cautious and ask people to not post simple friendly pictures on Facebook (Esp St Patrick's day)!
Nisha Joshi:
Indian name: The one who plays Holi with her eyelids every occasion (She wears some thick layer of color on her eye lids - pink, aqua and what not). The one who says, 'whatever' whatever number of times.
Nickname: Nissssssaaaaaaaaa! Nasha! Pushkar!
Lesser known facts about her: Is pretty surely with a very pretty smile, but has an even prettier sister!
Commonly known fact about her: Has a boyfriend. Every new acquaintance is made to go through a drill-like "I have a boyfriend!"
Gets buzzed at even a whiff of alcohol. People wonder if excess Pepsi might not make her inebriated! Extremely sportive and fairly jovial. More than that, it is perhaps a resignation to the fact that she has no choice but to endure all the leg-pulling. Is smart and picks up jokes quickly and retaliates as much as possible.
Common laments: "You guys are weird!" (Mainly towards 918 S C guys and Konark. Has even a stuttering Pavan imitating that line of hers... More fun than watching a hilarious spoof is the face-off between Druggist Pavan and Intoxicated (Nasha) Nisha. Both imitate and mock each other providing ample entertainment to Poor Indian Graduate students who can't afford the latest iPod!)
Aberrations: Fastest girl to agree to plans. Fastest girl to get ready at all. Beats 1-hour-beauty-bath taking Muscle-man Vaibhav by a good 1 hour! Oh in fact everyone can beat him. Even Saahithi can, in taking a quick bath!
Capable of: Making Chinta stop his work and listen to her even if he is chatting with his best friend online or watching some movie or eating rice! Making Pushkar realize how unromantic he can get (yet with a reminder, "I have a boyfriend, ok?")!
The last mentioned is a new recruit into the team of other sheep - very sweet and endearing!
There could be more coming soon but parts 1 and 2 (prev and this article) should be the essence of my great times at Chicago. 2 blog posts cannot do complete justice to the warmth I feel about these sheep. However, as the curtains fall on my "Chicago Episode" I wish to document at least this much.
Also, as it happens, today is Shruti's Birthday. So this, if she agrees to accept, is her Birthday gift from me.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Darling? No! Please kill me!
This is one of my popular topics.
Do you really want to punish a person? People of all ages. No hassle, no physical efforts.
Only expenditure = ticket cost at a movie place near you, battling long lines of eager audience. Best of all, your hands don't get dirty. The torture is not obvious.
So when I want to torture my friend (and not enemy, for some reason) I would buy him a ticket to a Telugu movie. * - yes all disclaimers at the end of the post!
Latest one = Darling
Sounds like a romantic movie that could move many a heart. But then that's where an average movie director from this land proves to you that he can work as a spy/intelligence person/conman etc.
So is it a mystery movie? A bit. Is it a crime movie? A bit. Scary movie? A bit. How all these? Answers follow in my effort to lay down as in a scientific analysis. <--- (1)
It starts with a song picturized on the hero. (In movies from here there are no actors. Only heroes and superheroes.) The hero sings and dances with his bunch of local sidekicks to celebrate their graduation from the college. Nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy. Agreed!
At the end of the song, hero's junior confesses her feelings for him and proposes to him. (Errr! When did this start happening?) Perhaps she fell for his pink vest and amazing fashion sense. Ohhh and not to forget - his half shaven body hair! A fetish for tickly and prickly hair perhaps!
Hero rejects! Girl attempts suicide! Awwwwww! I couldn't stop my tears... No! Not for the mush or for the sorry state of the girl. Yawns so intense and resulting from extreme irritation/boredom, get tears out of my eyes!
Girl's father is then shown in his introduction scene as a man who hates traitors! (Who doesn't? And yet there were regular cliches. Regular killing of a traitor. Attempted patriotism when he stops the traitor jabbering excuses/justifications in English saying, "To express feelings you don't need English, Telugu is good enough!" I was moved... (Not by the patriotism, but by the numbness of my butt to change my posture.) I was touched... (By my non-Telugu speaking friend Nisha, poking to ask me to translate what he just said.)
At this point, (Hardly 5 min into the movie) I am so irritated that 3 of us walk out to buy something to eat. Looks like a great mafia, this! They produce horrible movies. So people get frustrated and go out to snack in the theatre's cafetaria. There, they have snacks with prices as much as monthly grocery bills would come up to. All in all, a great business model.
Next, the upset villain/father of that sick-tasted girl vows to kill the hero for upsetting his daughter. If I were the father, I'd have killed my daughter for attempting suicide for such a gay-dressed gu(a)y! Anyway she wanted to die, right?
Hero narrates a coo-chi-coo, mushy story of "How I met your daughter's competitor" with all the humor, emotions, drama, violence that he can conjure up in less than 1/1000th of the time that comedy series narrate their stories of how a guy met his child's mother! Enter a bombshell in Swiss backdrop.
Apparently the hero met her when on a music tour/competition. Yeah why should there be a surprise. It is as easy to pluck the strings of a guitar as it is to bite your nails these days! So, minus all the technical details, the story with all its twists and turns and vicissitudes is being narrated. Hero's group makes loss with the musical concert not materializing. So the organizer confiscates the passports of group, promising to return, upon making up for the loss.
The guys overhears the girl telling her story of previous night and then upon meeting her, chooses his first move as "I can read faces." (Yeah! For the nincompoop that you look, you'd better at least read faces if not good books to improve your common sense!) He narrates all that he overheard, convincing the girl that he is a pro at it. She always kept her face covered after that, to avoid being told what color her undies were today. (One should believe that there are such easy girls available for the taking! And I was thinking dogs are dumb and gullible!)
The guy shows no interest in practising. He spends all his time trying to woo the girl so much that the girl gives in to his pink t-shirts, tube-tops and tank-tops, leather stocking-like stuff that vamps wear on top of tracks, half shaved body hair and effeminating dance moves. (There is no room for those who wonder, what kind of friends are those that don't care about a non-participating member. You shouldd be too sick to be asking those questions, apparently.)
The heroine, with every scene adds to her ooommmphphph factor, but no matter what she did in the movie, the most womanly was the hero himself! He acted like a girl more than the over-acting girl herself. The over-acting heroine is eager to bend over, bend down, jump around etc for no reason. All this is to show, perhaps, that the girl is happy-go-lucky.(There is no normal acting girl in Telugu movies. Only flesh showing, dumb doll-like girls. Breathing Barbies, you could call them. Come to think of it, I always wondered what they meant by, "I want to do a role of substance. A meaty role! Yeah, this one passes the test because she does show her meat!)
The tick of approval is placed on the hero, by the heroine, when the hero fights 1000000000 people single handedly (as he did when the suicide-girl's father sends 99999999 goondas to kill the hero. He furtively fought every goonda that time. Now he openly bashed up every goonda - male/female!) Oh sure it does take a lot to fight local goondas in a foreign land where law is supposed to be strict. But then, it is a narrative...
When the hero walked in rage towards the goonda, one of 2 things happend - 1) There were sparks from his boot. (I knew it! His body was defective. Chromosomes mixed up. And so the electrons were revolting...) 2) There were shockwaves throwing villains off-balance, dislocating their bones. (But I would think the hero bashed up so many only because his cleavage was distastefully distracting and so the goondas couldn't concentrate on counter attack.)
At the end of the narrative, the heroine meets with an accident as she is running towards the hero to hug him. (She was dumb enough to run in the middle of the road and even more to not notice a car coming from behind. Yeah the fellow never honked. He never slowed. Car was quiet, as are faaren (foreign) cars.) The villain-father is reduced to sniffs and tears. He pardons the hero saying that it was "true love" and he understood its value. Given the way the heroine was portrayed, I'd hardly think it was anything more than true lust.
Cut to reality... It was true that the hero loved this heroine. But the narrative was make-believe. How? Well, it so happened that all the characters in the story were real-life inspired. The girl was a childhood sweetheart and a family friend. Hero's father & Heroine's father were diaper-day buddies. Swiss story was just added spice. Yeah, they had to show a faaren locashun! Hero, after fooling the villain-father with a make-believe story, gathers that his love was coming soon to India and so were the other family friends.
Now, everybody converges at the hero's uncle's farmhouse in a beautiful place in Andhra (Araku). There is the usual banter, leg-pulling, jokes which are common to childhood friends and their children. Hero -visualizing those days when all children would be naked/semi-naked and play together - would wish things never changed, literally!
Enter the hero's competitor. Hero was poor in academics! (Aaahhh! Here it was! I knew it right from the beginning looking at his crassy presence on screen and believe it is true of his real life too!) So his father's other friend's son becomes a favorite with heroine's father and even the heroine after some gimmicks like breaking ice-slab, showing 6-pack and beating the hero in a game of basketball. The heroine's younger brother (maybe 6 years of age)- given the age gap - I wonder if there are still people who do family planning the way ancient cavemen did or the way Indian Politicians plan India's growth - is an obstacle to hero's attempts to woo heroine.
Instead the brother aides the competitor, who, despite years of education in Australia, somehow managed to get the exact same number of local, nincompoop looking ass-faced friends with brown dyed hair (looking like muddy carpets) as the hero's group has. (Wow! This coincidence is rarer than that of the 9 planets lining up in the sky!)
So as soon as the competitor lands at the farmhouse, he challenges the hero to a game of basketball and almost every other game. Hero upon seeing that the heroine was cheering the competitor gives up an almost winning game. I would have thought, looking at his constipated expression, that he really quit to go to the loo! The game of rat-race begins between the 2 competitors.
Finally, as has to happen, the hero starts scoring more runs than the competitor. Esp after one incident when the hero bashes up yet another group of local goondas (which launches an attack on the 6-pack, ice-slab breaking competitor) which possibly couldn't bear to see the brightness from the boot-sparks and chest-hair sticking out (like cut creepers seeking sunshine) from his lavender tank tops.
The ungrateful competitor - showing no respect for the gay hero and his bravado - goes to the villain-father-of-the-suicide-girl-fame and tells him how the hero fooled him. Filled with anger, indignation and a determination to finish off the source of possible second-time attraction of his daughter, he takes an army of jeeps filled with animals (Yeah I am positive they were not men!) brandishing swords at the hero. (He is at this point walking away from the gathering in farmhouse, blissfully unaware of vehicles coming onto him. What's with people not realizing where they are walking these days anyway?) He is walking away upon the command of his daddy-dear (a la Lord Rama).
Now somehow in a dramatic unfolding of the plot and mysteries, everyone agrees that:
1) Heroine loves the hero and no one else. (Had to be.)
2) She'd die if betrothed to marry anyone else.
3) Heroine's father and grandfather patch up after a family feud of eons between them. All this because some gibberish led to the eye-opener of grand-pappy. He realized his folly and decides to: a) let his son back in the family b) re-adopt his son's friend (hero's father) c) Let her grand-daughter be happy and gay with a gay of her choice!
Heroine runs out to call back the hero. (Makes me wonder if no one gives a thought to ticket rescheduling/ cancellation and plan changes at the snap of fingers.) She sees that 100000000000000000 men are beating up her lust (Ohhh ummm Love). So what does she do? Here's her meaty-role part. She jumps in between the villain and the hero, pleading him to kill her 1st and then the hero (if indeed the villain must kill the hero). And once again, the tear glands swell up at the mere words and he drops all arms. I would have thought it was bad-breath from the heroine that rendered him helpless.
And the hero ends saying "Don't worry daaaarrrrlingggg! He won't kill us!" with a sheepish grin showing turmeric yellow teeth! (Oh everything about the hero had to be colorful, right?)
Few highlights in the movie: Every one of the side characters had a ridiculous side to him/her (No not humorous! Ridiculous!). There was plenty of attempt to jokes and there were dumb audiences (mainly overgrown women) sitting behind me laughing uncontrollably. Oh maybe it was a cockroach that was crawling inside their clothes.
Heroine's other meaty part was when she delivered a stunning (oh so cliched) speech on India and its values as opposed to Western world and how she hated Switzerland. Oh and guess what immediately followed that patriotic meaty scene? It was a run-around-trees song set in Swiss Alps!!! (The movie makers apparently don't understand "irony" and "direction")
Everyone else, other than the hero, was reduced to mere hand-clapping, over-acting, slap-stick humored buffoons. Hero's normal acting was very intense. I really cried inside my heart everytime he laughed/cracked a 'joke' and laughed everytime he portrayed serious emotions. (So what? They were intense, and so were my reactions.)
The only thing missing in the movie was a rape scene! That would have so made a complete masala movie. I gathered later, that the girls loved the gay acts of the hero so much that they wanted him to take his top off! I, taking courage from the opposite sex, confessed that I had similar hopes from the heroine!
References: (1) - So it really had a bit of everything you see! Mystery being, what the heck is the story about and where the f*** could I find the movie makers to pack them up and send them into orbit?
On a scale of 5 I'd give this movie -500 (negative five hundred<-- just to remove doubt).
I resent,
every cent,
that I spent,
on the movie. Really, I wish I had spent so much on charity instead!
* - I have no disclaimers as a matter of fact. I believe that the one who cannot criticize himself can't improve/evolve. We all know evolution is natural and essential. A clan that can't look at its flaws and appreciate better things is unfit!
I have only one hope from Telugu movie industry. That hope bears the name of Shekar Kammula! I'd recommend non-Telugu folks to not take movies like this as an example! We had good movie skills until even early 1990s. Now with Shekar Kammula, I have hope again!
I also don't think comparing with other language movie standards is a way out because I never compared here. And I don't care if others do horribly. It is my language movies that should lead by example. That is what I want.
Do you really want to punish a person? People of all ages. No hassle, no physical efforts.
Only expenditure = ticket cost at a movie place near you, battling long lines of eager audience. Best of all, your hands don't get dirty. The torture is not obvious.
So when I want to torture my friend (and not enemy, for some reason) I would buy him a ticket to a Telugu movie. * - yes all disclaimers at the end of the post!
Latest one = Darling
Sounds like a romantic movie that could move many a heart. But then that's where an average movie director from this land proves to you that he can work as a spy/intelligence person/conman etc.
So is it a mystery movie? A bit. Is it a crime movie? A bit. Scary movie? A bit. How all these? Answers follow in my effort to lay down as in a scientific analysis. <--- (1)
It starts with a song picturized on the hero. (In movies from here there are no actors. Only heroes and superheroes.) The hero sings and dances with his bunch of local sidekicks to celebrate their graduation from the college. Nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy. Agreed!
At the end of the song, hero's junior confesses her feelings for him and proposes to him. (Errr! When did this start happening?) Perhaps she fell for his pink vest and amazing fashion sense. Ohhh and not to forget - his half shaven body hair! A fetish for tickly and prickly hair perhaps!
Hero rejects! Girl attempts suicide! Awwwwww! I couldn't stop my tears... No! Not for the mush or for the sorry state of the girl. Yawns so intense and resulting from extreme irritation/boredom, get tears out of my eyes!
Girl's father is then shown in his introduction scene as a man who hates traitors! (Who doesn't? And yet there were regular cliches. Regular killing of a traitor. Attempted patriotism when he stops the traitor jabbering excuses/justifications in English saying, "To express feelings you don't need English, Telugu is good enough!" I was moved... (Not by the patriotism, but by the numbness of my butt to change my posture.) I was touched... (By my non-Telugu speaking friend Nisha, poking to ask me to translate what he just said.)
At this point, (Hardly 5 min into the movie) I am so irritated that 3 of us walk out to buy something to eat. Looks like a great mafia, this! They produce horrible movies. So people get frustrated and go out to snack in the theatre's cafetaria. There, they have snacks with prices as much as monthly grocery bills would come up to. All in all, a great business model.
Next, the upset villain/father of that sick-tasted girl vows to kill the hero for upsetting his daughter. If I were the father, I'd have killed my daughter for attempting suicide for such a gay-dressed gu(a)y! Anyway she wanted to die, right?
Hero narrates a coo-chi-coo, mushy story of "How I met your daughter's competitor" with all the humor, emotions, drama, violence that he can conjure up in less than 1/1000th of the time that comedy series narrate their stories of how a guy met his child's mother! Enter a bombshell in Swiss backdrop.
Apparently the hero met her when on a music tour/competition. Yeah why should there be a surprise. It is as easy to pluck the strings of a guitar as it is to bite your nails these days! So, minus all the technical details, the story with all its twists and turns and vicissitudes is being narrated. Hero's group makes loss with the musical concert not materializing. So the organizer confiscates the passports of group, promising to return, upon making up for the loss.
The guys overhears the girl telling her story of previous night and then upon meeting her, chooses his first move as "I can read faces." (Yeah! For the nincompoop that you look, you'd better at least read faces if not good books to improve your common sense!) He narrates all that he overheard, convincing the girl that he is a pro at it. She always kept her face covered after that, to avoid being told what color her undies were today. (One should believe that there are such easy girls available for the taking! And I was thinking dogs are dumb and gullible!)
The guy shows no interest in practising. He spends all his time trying to woo the girl so much that the girl gives in to his pink t-shirts, tube-tops and tank-tops, leather stocking-like stuff that vamps wear on top of tracks, half shaved body hair and effeminating dance moves. (There is no room for those who wonder, what kind of friends are those that don't care about a non-participating member. You shouldd be too sick to be asking those questions, apparently.)
The heroine, with every scene adds to her ooommmphphph factor, but no matter what she did in the movie, the most womanly was the hero himself! He acted like a girl more than the over-acting girl herself. The over-acting heroine is eager to bend over, bend down, jump around etc for no reason. All this is to show, perhaps, that the girl is happy-go-lucky.(There is no normal acting girl in Telugu movies. Only flesh showing, dumb doll-like girls. Breathing Barbies, you could call them. Come to think of it, I always wondered what they meant by, "I want to do a role of substance. A meaty role! Yeah, this one passes the test because she does show her meat!)
The tick of approval is placed on the hero, by the heroine, when the hero fights 1000000000 people single handedly (as he did when the suicide-girl's father sends 99999999 goondas to kill the hero. He furtively fought every goonda that time. Now he openly bashed up every goonda - male/female!) Oh sure it does take a lot to fight local goondas in a foreign land where law is supposed to be strict. But then, it is a narrative...
When the hero walked in rage towards the goonda, one of 2 things happend - 1) There were sparks from his boot. (I knew it! His body was defective. Chromosomes mixed up. And so the electrons were revolting...) 2) There were shockwaves throwing villains off-balance, dislocating their bones. (But I would think the hero bashed up so many only because his cleavage was distastefully distracting and so the goondas couldn't concentrate on counter attack.)
At the end of the narrative, the heroine meets with an accident as she is running towards the hero to hug him. (She was dumb enough to run in the middle of the road and even more to not notice a car coming from behind. Yeah the fellow never honked. He never slowed. Car was quiet, as are faaren (foreign) cars.) The villain-father is reduced to sniffs and tears. He pardons the hero saying that it was "true love" and he understood its value. Given the way the heroine was portrayed, I'd hardly think it was anything more than true lust.
Cut to reality... It was true that the hero loved this heroine. But the narrative was make-believe. How? Well, it so happened that all the characters in the story were real-life inspired. The girl was a childhood sweetheart and a family friend. Hero's father & Heroine's father were diaper-day buddies. Swiss story was just added spice. Yeah, they had to show a faaren locashun! Hero, after fooling the villain-father with a make-believe story, gathers that his love was coming soon to India and so were the other family friends.
Now, everybody converges at the hero's uncle's farmhouse in a beautiful place in Andhra (Araku). There is the usual banter, leg-pulling, jokes which are common to childhood friends and their children. Hero -visualizing those days when all children would be naked/semi-naked and play together - would wish things never changed, literally!
Enter the hero's competitor. Hero was poor in academics! (Aaahhh! Here it was! I knew it right from the beginning looking at his crassy presence on screen and believe it is true of his real life too!) So his father's other friend's son becomes a favorite with heroine's father and even the heroine after some gimmicks like breaking ice-slab, showing 6-pack and beating the hero in a game of basketball. The heroine's younger brother (maybe 6 years of age)- given the age gap - I wonder if there are still people who do family planning the way ancient cavemen did or the way Indian Politicians plan India's growth - is an obstacle to hero's attempts to woo heroine.
Instead the brother aides the competitor, who, despite years of education in Australia, somehow managed to get the exact same number of local, nincompoop looking ass-faced friends with brown dyed hair (looking like muddy carpets) as the hero's group has. (Wow! This coincidence is rarer than that of the 9 planets lining up in the sky!)
So as soon as the competitor lands at the farmhouse, he challenges the hero to a game of basketball and almost every other game. Hero upon seeing that the heroine was cheering the competitor gives up an almost winning game. I would have thought, looking at his constipated expression, that he really quit to go to the loo! The game of rat-race begins between the 2 competitors.
Finally, as has to happen, the hero starts scoring more runs than the competitor. Esp after one incident when the hero bashes up yet another group of local goondas (which launches an attack on the 6-pack, ice-slab breaking competitor) which possibly couldn't bear to see the brightness from the boot-sparks and chest-hair sticking out (like cut creepers seeking sunshine) from his lavender tank tops.
The ungrateful competitor - showing no respect for the gay hero and his bravado - goes to the villain-father-of-the-suicide-girl-fame and tells him how the hero fooled him. Filled with anger, indignation and a determination to finish off the source of possible second-time attraction of his daughter, he takes an army of jeeps filled with animals (Yeah I am positive they were not men!) brandishing swords at the hero. (He is at this point walking away from the gathering in farmhouse, blissfully unaware of vehicles coming onto him. What's with people not realizing where they are walking these days anyway?) He is walking away upon the command of his daddy-dear (a la Lord Rama).
Now somehow in a dramatic unfolding of the plot and mysteries, everyone agrees that:
1) Heroine loves the hero and no one else. (Had to be.)
2) She'd die if betrothed to marry anyone else.
3) Heroine's father and grandfather patch up after a family feud of eons between them. All this because some gibberish led to the eye-opener of grand-pappy. He realized his folly and decides to: a) let his son back in the family b) re-adopt his son's friend (hero's father) c) Let her grand-daughter be happy and gay with a gay of her choice!
Heroine runs out to call back the hero. (Makes me wonder if no one gives a thought to ticket rescheduling/ cancellation and plan changes at the snap of fingers.) She sees that 100000000000000000 men are beating up her lust (Ohhh ummm Love). So what does she do? Here's her meaty-role part. She jumps in between the villain and the hero, pleading him to kill her 1st and then the hero (if indeed the villain must kill the hero). And once again, the tear glands swell up at the mere words and he drops all arms. I would have thought it was bad-breath from the heroine that rendered him helpless.
And the hero ends saying "Don't worry daaaarrrrlingggg! He won't kill us!" with a sheepish grin showing turmeric yellow teeth! (Oh everything about the hero had to be colorful, right?)
Few highlights in the movie: Every one of the side characters had a ridiculous side to him/her (No not humorous! Ridiculous!). There was plenty of attempt to jokes and there were dumb audiences (mainly overgrown women) sitting behind me laughing uncontrollably. Oh maybe it was a cockroach that was crawling inside their clothes.
Heroine's other meaty part was when she delivered a stunning (oh so cliched) speech on India and its values as opposed to Western world and how she hated Switzerland. Oh and guess what immediately followed that patriotic meaty scene? It was a run-around-trees song set in Swiss Alps!!! (The movie makers apparently don't understand "irony" and "direction")
Everyone else, other than the hero, was reduced to mere hand-clapping, over-acting, slap-stick humored buffoons. Hero's normal acting was very intense. I really cried inside my heart everytime he laughed/cracked a 'joke' and laughed everytime he portrayed serious emotions. (So what? They were intense, and so were my reactions.)
The only thing missing in the movie was a rape scene! That would have so made a complete masala movie. I gathered later, that the girls loved the gay acts of the hero so much that they wanted him to take his top off! I, taking courage from the opposite sex, confessed that I had similar hopes from the heroine!
References: (1) - So it really had a bit of everything you see! Mystery being, what the heck is the story about and where the f*** could I find the movie makers to pack them up and send them into orbit?
On a scale of 5 I'd give this movie -500 (negative five hundred<-- just to remove doubt).
I resent,
every cent,
that I spent,
on the movie. Really, I wish I had spent so much on charity instead!
* - I have no disclaimers as a matter of fact. I believe that the one who cannot criticize himself can't improve/evolve. We all know evolution is natural and essential. A clan that can't look at its flaws and appreciate better things is unfit!
I have only one hope from Telugu movie industry. That hope bears the name of Shekar Kammula! I'd recommend non-Telugu folks to not take movies like this as an example! We had good movie skills until even early 1990s. Now with Shekar Kammula, I have hope again!
I also don't think comparing with other language movie standards is a way out because I never compared here. And I don't care if others do horribly. It is my language movies that should lead by example. That is what I want.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Salute to you, Mr Banker!
I just saw a 12 min video of your ideas. I admire you more than any big corporate man. Surely you are 10 levels above a fellow who brought franchising in India's favorite sport. Certainly I value you more than some lone tennis star, who after making it to some Grand Slams, decided it was not for her, and instead chose to marry some fellow and settle outside the country.
I value you more than any politician (sadly we don't have leaders in our nation these days). You would be insulted if comparisons were even made to entertainers who are called 'actors' and showered upon with awards. More truly, it is just a distribution of awards, as one does of sweets on Independence Day.
Time and again, when hope seems to be lost in despair, some story like yours comes up. At this rate, Mr Banker, I have a lot to do by the time I retire and beyond.
Kudos! Hats Off! Take a Bow! You put people like me with "Global Education and Exposure" to shame, yet inspire them to take up constructive activities, first at home, then everywhere. Your words restore the faith that there are Angels on Earth after Mother Teresa left our company.
Mr Banker, my countrymen, esp those from the countryside have tremendous potential and burning ambition. Continue to fuel them, till someone like yours truly and his friends get there too!
Watch this video!
Banking on change
PS: I am a firm believer that everyone has a place in this world. So I have nothing against above mentioned people. It is just that I go out of my way to salute these true heroes who get lost in those that I feel are of no significance.
I value you more than any politician (sadly we don't have leaders in our nation these days). You would be insulted if comparisons were even made to entertainers who are called 'actors' and showered upon with awards. More truly, it is just a distribution of awards, as one does of sweets on Independence Day.
Time and again, when hope seems to be lost in despair, some story like yours comes up. At this rate, Mr Banker, I have a lot to do by the time I retire and beyond.
Kudos! Hats Off! Take a Bow! You put people like me with "Global Education and Exposure" to shame, yet inspire them to take up constructive activities, first at home, then everywhere. Your words restore the faith that there are Angels on Earth after Mother Teresa left our company.
Mr Banker, my countrymen, esp those from the countryside have tremendous potential and burning ambition. Continue to fuel them, till someone like yours truly and his friends get there too!
Watch this video!
Banking on change
PS: I am a firm believer that everyone has a place in this world. So I have nothing against above mentioned people. It is just that I go out of my way to salute these true heroes who get lost in those that I feel are of no significance.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Strength of a woman!
December 24th 2009. If you look at the date, it is one day before Christmas.
That day, however, I realized that I could hardly fathom the depth of a woman's heart! For all the training that my prospective wife should be proud of my mother for, I just didn't understand it.
So here, I land at Bengaluru International Airport, not without the frustration and fuss of the bribe seeking officials. I loathed every moment of going back to India. My friends who came to pick me up, were annoyed that I tried to run away from the airport premises, not even acknowledging their presence. My justification was that I wanted to escape the irritating government officials.
My friends - Viraj, Vinod and Shreyoshee - relish my mom's cooking. Who Doesn't? I'll pay a 1000$ to anyone who finds a flaw in my mom's cooking. But then, that's not the deal here. The deal is in how this woman casts a spell on others while maintaining an impression of possessing supernatural powers.
Here is her Modus Operandi:
1 - Smile.
2 - Make people comfortable.
3 - Cook amazing delicacies.
4 - Be optimistic.
5 - Help everyone.
I, someone who can speak in 5 or more languages, am trying to learn the secret behind having friends of any background, despite not knowing more than 1 language... Acquaintances who'd take an extra step to help her, just to see her smile stay on her face... I am not exaggerating when I say that 0 to 100, people of all ages speak to her. They feel comfortable talking to her. They want more of her time. So I analyzed her. That is so typically me... Observe, Analyze, think...
She is not a Psychiatry major. She is no Engineer. She doesn't have the B.Com certificate to prove that she is 'educated'! Does any of it matter? I observed - No!
Her secret behind endearing herself to everyone is a secret indeed! Here, I can challenge any psychiatrist an amount of 1000$ to gain an insight into her psyche.
Now a mere mortal like me goes back home after 18 months of living away from home. I was greeted with the same affection that my friends were greeted. Clearly I was offended. Being a single child, I was used to being the center of attention. So a "Hello!", upon my arrival, from my mom was offending to me... I expected more.
The whole day, my friends would not take my hint - a hint saying, "Guys, maybe now you should leave me alone at home. Maybe I could do with some sleep (Jet lag)!" I am proud to have such friends too! I'd give up a lot of things to have friends like these!
Finally towards evening, they decide to leave for their respective homes! Relieved, I decide to inspect my home for the various changes after my departure to Chicago. Nothing seemed to change as much as my mother's tolerance towards my absence. I was supposed to be her only child. So how was I to understand her "Hello!" when I appeared at the door?
I saw that the lunch served was not one of my favorites - Potato curry! I was dismayed. I was confident that my mother would cook my favorites right from day one.
With all the pent up feelings, mixed with home sickness, I was peeved! I went in to her room. She happened to enter the room at the same time. As was customary, I grabbed her face gently, hugged her, tapped her and asked, slightly annoyed, "Enti Amma! Nenu oste neeku aanandamuga ledaa?" (Aren't you happy that I have come?)
No sooner did I hug her, than I heard her sob! And she didn't stop until at least 5 min. I was stunned! Any lady crying over my shoulder was supposed to be comforted. That was how my mother raised me. So I looked around, stunned! Something wrong? I was supposed to be homesick! And my mother was a strong person - to an extent that everybody pours their sorrows into her! Seeing her sob relentlessly put me to shame. Indeed I didn't know to read the mind of a woman! This woman - a personification of strength, love, kindness, inspiration and amiability taught me yet again that '...still waters run deep.' Here I thought, I was homesick. But there, my mother suffered from son-stroke!
That is when I realized that the depth of a woman's heart is not fathomable. Woman's Day or not... Mother's Day or not... Here is my tribute to the Woman! If ever my wife loved me for the respect I have for women, she should thank her mother-in-law! Mom, here is another tribute to you! I Love You!
That day, however, I realized that I could hardly fathom the depth of a woman's heart! For all the training that my prospective wife should be proud of my mother for, I just didn't understand it.
So here, I land at Bengaluru International Airport, not without the frustration and fuss of the bribe seeking officials. I loathed every moment of going back to India. My friends who came to pick me up, were annoyed that I tried to run away from the airport premises, not even acknowledging their presence. My justification was that I wanted to escape the irritating government officials.
My friends - Viraj, Vinod and Shreyoshee - relish my mom's cooking. Who Doesn't? I'll pay a 1000$ to anyone who finds a flaw in my mom's cooking. But then, that's not the deal here. The deal is in how this woman casts a spell on others while maintaining an impression of possessing supernatural powers.
Here is her Modus Operandi:
1 - Smile.
2 - Make people comfortable.
3 - Cook amazing delicacies.
4 - Be optimistic.
5 - Help everyone.
I, someone who can speak in 5 or more languages, am trying to learn the secret behind having friends of any background, despite not knowing more than 1 language... Acquaintances who'd take an extra step to help her, just to see her smile stay on her face... I am not exaggerating when I say that 0 to 100, people of all ages speak to her. They feel comfortable talking to her. They want more of her time. So I analyzed her. That is so typically me... Observe, Analyze, think...
She is not a Psychiatry major. She is no Engineer. She doesn't have the B.Com certificate to prove that she is 'educated'! Does any of it matter? I observed - No!
Her secret behind endearing herself to everyone is a secret indeed! Here, I can challenge any psychiatrist an amount of 1000$ to gain an insight into her psyche.
Now a mere mortal like me goes back home after 18 months of living away from home. I was greeted with the same affection that my friends were greeted. Clearly I was offended. Being a single child, I was used to being the center of attention. So a "Hello!", upon my arrival, from my mom was offending to me... I expected more.
The whole day, my friends would not take my hint - a hint saying, "Guys, maybe now you should leave me alone at home. Maybe I could do with some sleep (Jet lag)!" I am proud to have such friends too! I'd give up a lot of things to have friends like these!
Finally towards evening, they decide to leave for their respective homes! Relieved, I decide to inspect my home for the various changes after my departure to Chicago. Nothing seemed to change as much as my mother's tolerance towards my absence. I was supposed to be her only child. So how was I to understand her "Hello!" when I appeared at the door?
I saw that the lunch served was not one of my favorites - Potato curry! I was dismayed. I was confident that my mother would cook my favorites right from day one.
With all the pent up feelings, mixed with home sickness, I was peeved! I went in to her room. She happened to enter the room at the same time. As was customary, I grabbed her face gently, hugged her, tapped her and asked, slightly annoyed, "Enti Amma! Nenu oste neeku aanandamuga ledaa?" (Aren't you happy that I have come?)
No sooner did I hug her, than I heard her sob! And she didn't stop until at least 5 min. I was stunned! Any lady crying over my shoulder was supposed to be comforted. That was how my mother raised me. So I looked around, stunned! Something wrong? I was supposed to be homesick! And my mother was a strong person - to an extent that everybody pours their sorrows into her! Seeing her sob relentlessly put me to shame. Indeed I didn't know to read the mind of a woman! This woman - a personification of strength, love, kindness, inspiration and amiability taught me yet again that '...still waters run deep.' Here I thought, I was homesick. But there, my mother suffered from son-stroke!
That is when I realized that the depth of a woman's heart is not fathomable. Woman's Day or not... Mother's Day or not... Here is my tribute to the Woman! If ever my wife loved me for the respect I have for women, she should thank her mother-in-law! Mom, here is another tribute to you! I Love You!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Bee's thoughts
Buzzzz! I flit from petal to petal.
My instinct to spot one- worth a precious metal!
Never a flower do I kill.
So why the issue if I can't be still?
Nectar is what I gain.
I help carry pollen grain.
Regularly search for flowers, I do.
Today was a regular day too!
At a same spot I saw a new one.
Or was it under a light of a new sun?
It was a flower- pretty and pink.
Made my heart stop, sink and think!
I wondered how, before, I missed.
That made it look like- always I dissed!
Before nectar, for my breath, I stopped.
From petal to petal, then, I hopped.
How I wish I dipped myself in ink.
Then fly around to write- "You are pretty in pink!"
My instinct to spot one- worth a precious metal!
Never a flower do I kill.
So why the issue if I can't be still?
Nectar is what I gain.
I help carry pollen grain.
Regularly search for flowers, I do.
Today was a regular day too!
At a same spot I saw a new one.
Or was it under a light of a new sun?
It was a flower- pretty and pink.
Made my heart stop, sink and think!
I wondered how, before, I missed.
That made it look like- always I dissed!
Before nectar, for my breath, I stopped.
From petal to petal, then, I hopped.
How I wish I dipped myself in ink.
Then fly around to write- "You are pretty in pink!"
Friday, February 26, 2010
We need true artists
To a casual bystander he looked like a dumb cow gaping at a vast plain of greenery. The analogy isn't quite inapt. On his screen were some of the best stories he ever read. He wondered how he had never found this online or how those stories never made it to a published book. Kesari, upon being informed by his mom, decided to read these himself. A feeling of pity for the author who, he now certainly believed, had a flair and talent for writing, mixed with disappointment, anger and other feelings he couldn't quite name filled him. He was about to leave comments for the author but then desisted - for more than one reason.
He, still in a state of shock, hesitantly switched off his laptop. His movements were slow and dazed. The light in his room was switched off. He had started reading the stories early in the afternoon with an estimate that he'd be done in an hour or so. He looked at his watch now to realize it was well over 5 hours now. And then it was only a set of short stories he had read. He was surprised how he never realized so much time passing. The stories just gripped him. And when he tried to decide which the best of them was, he couldn't. They all seemed amazingly simple, yet interesting; unique in that they were different stories and genres, yet common and comparable in that they were all good reads. No wonder, then, time flew by while he didn't realize it.
Presently the room was dark. He was still. The room was calm. Or so it seemed, considering the clutter in his head. No other noise seemed to penetrate the room. His mom was perhaps in the kitchen, making preparations for a delicious dinner. His mind diverted for a bit to his mom's cooking. Her dishes were a blessing for anyone's tongue. He thought they were even a privilege. He decided that whoever had an occasion to be privileged to taste his mom's cooking was blessed. He thought about his father. He thought about the entertaining stories that his dad told him about his college-time romance with his mother. His mind returned to his main chain of thoughts. His face became grim now. He remained seated on his couch.
He didn't want to move until he cleared the rubble from the storm in his mind. It was barely a minute from when his face became grim when he picked up the phone. His movements were not as slow as when he had switched off his laptop and reclined on the couch thinking all his thoughts. His fingers frantically searched and dialed his dad's cellphone number.
In the room designated Senior Vice-president (SV), on the eleventh floor of the building, a bald man in his early fifties was standing by the window. It opened to the west. Pavan Jandhyala, the SV of a medium scale company which dealt with consultancy of embedded systems and microprocessors - design, development and testing, had watched the sun sink into the sea. His brows were furrowed and his forehead had wrinkles that come to a man who thinks a lot. Those who knew him closely - his family and friends - would always say, "He thinks a lot! And sometimes it is unnecessary to think so much." His answer would be, "I can't stop my thoughts. They are just an integral part of me. And as for the usefulness of my thoughts, I never think of it. I don't think a lot. I just think." On occasions when he'd want to be funny he'd just say with a wink, "You don't want me to think about the usefulness of my thoughts, do you? That is not just ironical, but also adds to the thoughts I think."
This is about the time he generally walks about in his room if he isn't in a meeting. He kept himself physically active all his life. If not rigorous exercise, he made sure he walked often, took stairs to immediate floors. His generally serious thoughts never took the humor out of his public or social face. While people half his age, let alone contemporaries, moved about with a slouch, he would walk upright and with quick and long steps.
Pavan was just left with some files related to the client for the day. It would take him hardly an hour, he estimated. He had to read the requirements for some of them. For others he had to read about the clients and their background so as to be able to give the best consultation for how they should design their product. He took pride in his work. He earned it through his merits. His position as a SV, was a natural result of his smartness, assiduous work and professional ethics. Before getting back to his work, he wanted to clear the clutter in his head. Sometimes he wondered if he really gave things more thought than was necessary. If so, he wished he didn't do that. His work life was smooth. His personal life was not something to cheer about. He decided to get himself a mug of coffee from the pantry.
At that precise moment his cellphone rang. He turned towards the table and walked up to it to see who it was that wanted to add noise to his disturbed mind. With a peeved face, he read the screen. His face mellowed a bit, only for a moment. He answered, "Yeah!" The voice on the other end was soft and appealing.
"Dad... Can we meet in the coffee shop near your office? I want to speak to you about something important."
The coffee shop near Pavan's office was about about a couple of kilometers away but it was not the distance that he was bothered about.
"You need money for something?” he said in an austere tone bordering on callousness. At least that's the way he wanted to sound - callous.
There was a deep exhale on the other end. Pavan knew his son didn't like the tone. He anticipated it. But he didn't care. At least that's what he wanted to show. What he didn't anticipate, though, was that his son's voice would continue to be soft and appealing. But then that was because he wanted money or some such favor as usual, he thought. Or was his mind thinking unnecessarily now?
His son continued, "I need your guidance dad. I need your help. And that's why I want to meet you urgently before you get back home."
In choosing his words to get the best result, Kesari couldn't have done better than that. He was smart and he knew how to please people. He was, after all, his father's son. He had a secret admiration for his father's tact and was conscious that he inherited his tact and glib ways from his father. Kesari came across as an irresponsible, careless, happy-go-lucky person, but when he had to or when he wanted to, he could melt hearts. He could nicely talk a person into his way though often, he'd just choose to be rash and speak as if he never cared about the other person's wishes. By emphasizing on the words, "need guidance" and "need your help" he broke the ice between him and his father.
Pavan, with more furrowed brows and intense gaze into nothing particular while his mind's eye was trying to discern the view on the other end of the call, asked, "Something that urgent eh? Where are you?"
"I'm at home but I wanted to speak to you at your favorite coffee shop. I owe you some time and I wished to discuss some things with you. Please dad!"
"Okay! How long will you take to be there at the shop?"
"I'll be there in not more than half an hour."
"Sounds fine. Don't keep me waiting."
"I won't. Bye dad!"
"Yeah. Okay."
Kesari noted that his dad didn't end with a "Bye." That is a sign of anger. The extent of anger, though, was not as much as when he disconnects the call without saying even so much. He knew his dad would be confused by this call. His dad would surely be wondering about the motive behind such a call. But then he knew, his dad was giving him a chance. Otherwise, the invitation to the coffee shop would have been declined. He often felt his father was ruthless to him. "Yeah I know he tells me stories of how a caring father should be ruthless to his child for the child to be surviving, thriving and succeeding. Yeah I know the story of how the zebra kicks its newborn to stand up and get walking, instead of caressing and pampering, because if it didn't do so, a predator would soon be feasting on the newborn. But then he takes it to extremes," he'd often think or say to himself.
Without further thought, he washed his face. Splashing water on his face brought about calming his mind. He could almost hear his mind hissing as thought it were a hot pan being cooled by a splash of cold water. It also physically cooled his head. He went to the kitchen to drink water. His mother, a lady of late forties and just about getting to fifties but hardly looking a day older than forty, greeted him. She was of slim to medium build and her hair was just about graying. Her face had a radiant smile and her eyes were pretty and expressive. Looking from a third person's perspective, Kesari often wondered if his dad wasn't plain lucky to have such a pretty wife. Surely in those days his mom would have been very pretty and attractive. To add to her beauty was the fact that she was an engineer just like his father. By no means was she a beauty without brains. She voluntarily quit professional career to take up his upbringing. As a kid, Kesari would wonder why his mom married his dad because looks-wise they didn't seem to match up so much. "Oh no Chinna (Little one/son)! He was the best man. He was humorous, smart, talented, tactful, intelligent and caring. He looked fine too," she'd explain. On different occasions, she'd patiently explain why those qualities were what she valued a lot in a person who was to be her husband. But it was only as he grew up, as his naive mind developed, that he understood what his mom meant.
"Did you fall asleep Chinna? I thought you did, and so didn't disturb you."
"No Maa! I... was uhhmm... reading the stories. Didn't realize the time."
To Kesari, his mother's voice always had the effect of a lullaby to a restless baby, a cow's moo to call its calf - gentle, pacifying, soothing and affectionate.
Presently his mother uttered an "Oh!" She momentarily looked at him to see if he was continuing to speak. He didn't seem to be continuing. So she turned back to her work, hiding her inquisitiveness. After all, she had suggested that he should try those stories.
"Maa... I am going to meet dad near his office. Will be back with him for dinner." He hugged her from behind and kissed her as he said, "Bye!"
Immediately as the door shut Pushpa wondered what it was all about. What was Kesari up to? Although surprised, she was confident it was something positive that her son was up to. Father and son clashes were not known to her as a topic or by experience. She was the only child of her parents. She only heard from her mother-in-law how it used to be when her husband had fights with his father. Of late Pushpa was seeing a lot of fights. She was worried about the latest one because this time her husband didn't seem to want to budge. Her son wouldn't listen too. For about a week now there was a cold war in their home. They both were not speaking to each other. She just let them both be but it didn't seem to settle like their usual ego clashes.
"It is hard when both father and son are similar in attitudes, have an ego and are adamant," her husband's mother would recount to her some incidents from the past. "As a wife and mother, your job is the toughest, you will be tested and pressurized, but you have to care for both of them. That is a challenge which, in the words of professionals, if successfully completed, adds to your resume in your homemaking career," she once said to Pushpa with a chuckle when Pushpa sought her advice.
Pushpa closed her eyes for a moment praying that all should be well soon and then got back to her work.
Kesari was riding his bike to the coffee shop. On the way he stopped at a printing shop to take prints of some mails. Pavan liked coffee. It brought him a sense of calm and a feeling of strength. He was amused at how his son called him up to speak to him after about a week of avoidance. More than that it was the timing of his call - just when he was about to get himself coffee from the pantry. "You never know why some things happen the way they do, but you have got to let them happen. It is God's way of surprising you." That is what he learned from his mother.
He informed his immediate subordinates and the receptionist that he was leaving for the day. And within ten minutes of the call he was out of his office building. It was drizzling outside and the intensity of the drops increased. He was getting into the parking lot, but then on the way he stopped. He looked back outside and saw that it was raining not so heavily. He quickly turned back, having decided to walk to the coffee shop. He loved to walk... Especially when it was raining. He loved to do things differently. Presently his life was seeming monotonous with success in professional life and tumult at home. He saw this as an opportunity to break the monotony. In a way it was like celebrating the fact that his son called him. It reminded him of those days when his son would throw up his arms, tired of taking those tiny steps learning to walk, begging to be carried. Oh! The joy it used to bring him to pick his son up and carry him around in his arms or on his shoulders. There was a time when the only thing in his life was his son.
He was on the streets now, getting wet by the sprinkle from the heavens, as he was thinking these thoughts. He was looking around him. There was the usual buzz of downtown crowd. It was time to leave for home for many. He stopped at an intersection. He watched the vehicles go by. He watched people running about, trying to get to a shelter as soon as possible. He found it strange that people don't give time to the elements. They pray for the rains to cool down the Earth; to bring relief from the summer heat. And when it drizzles, let alone rains, people run for the nearest shelter refusing to let the drops fall on them. He had a strong desire to stand in the middle of the intersection, grab a microphone and penetrate the insensitive heads to convince them to give the drizzle a chance to soothe them.
He, however, shook himself to reality and continued to cross the intersection and on towards the shop. Soon he reached the shop and if his son was prompt, he should be there in no more than five minutes. He got in and sat at a table for two next to the big glass window through which one could have a view of the busy street outside. He smiled at the waiter as he took the menu card from him.
"Waiting for someone..." he said to the waiter as he put down the menu on the table. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up above the elbows, placed the elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists, looking to his left outside the window. His attention was drawn to the streetlight. He could see the drizzle, the light drops in the light from it. It was like a play with the actors coming into the spotlight and going out of it. He noticed how the drops seemed to move slowly, assuredly and quietly at the top near the bulb, but move fast, chaotically and noisily at the bottom, near the foot of the streetlight.
It reminded him of how, at the start of his career, he was uncertain. The people at the top of an organization or the industry seem so settled. Their lives seemed so easy. Their lives seemed devoid of any pressure. No need to please the boss. No worry of someone judging you all the time. No stress of a boss venting his frustration, often out of his inability, on you.
Now he knows that it was all an illusion. Although it is a cliche, the adage, "with great power comes great responsibility", isn't false. And it became a cliche because no matter how many times you say it, it is still not emphasizing the point enough. As a SV of his organization, he seems to have more pressure than as an entry level employee. Perhaps that is true of the rain drops and streetlight too. From a lower level, the drops seem to be calm and steady at the top, becoming chaotic towards the ground. When you go higher, the ones at your level seem chaotic while those at a still higher level seem peaceful.
He had seen it all. From an entry level position to now, professional life was supposed to move from 'hardest' to 'easiest' on the difficulty scale. However, the pointer remained at the same place. His father once said, "Everyone has his/her own worries in life. And to each one of them those will be difficult." How true!
Kesari, after parking his bike on the street, briskly walked to the shop, entered inside to find his father looking outside the window immersed in deep thought. He saw that he was no more than a minute late for the appointment, technically. He knew that stopping by the print shop would delay him but he accounted for it and was confident he could still make it. The minute's delay could be attributed to the fact that as he logged in to check his mails his girlfriend pinged him.
"Hey sweets! Whatcha upto? You were supposed to be going somewhere? :p"
"Hey pretty! Yeah. I am busy. Sorry I'll call you later. Will explain."
"Everything alright?"
"Yep! Relax pie! Meeting my dad for coffee :)"
"Oh! Nice..."
There was a pause during which he was away printing things.
"Gtg now. Bye" he typed when he was about to log off. He didn't even wait for her to say bye in reply. He logged off. He knew he could explain everything to her later. Besides, she knew of the situation at his home. Although not yet married, she was learning, from Kesari's mother by observing her, how things can be when a father and child don't see eye to eye on certain things. An ambitious and demanding father can be hard on a son who hasn't yet discovered what he likes to do. Kesari, during those soft moments, confessed to his girlfriend - Megha - that sometimes the reputation of his father intimidates him more than assuring him that he has his father's protection upon him, just in case something goes wrong. Kesari was talented. He wrote well. His writings interested the readers. They captivated the hearts. They, at times, inspired people. That apart he had an interest for music. He was a key member of the college rock band. He was mainly a drummer but could also play the bass guitar well. He was one of the top students in college, sure to get a job in any finance firm or department, if he puts his mind to it. That has been the problem with Kesari. He hasn't put his mind to anything particular with respect to his career. That way, he still was a jack of all trades. Megha didn't worry a lot about him but of late his clashes with his dad seemed to get intense. That was one of the reasons why she couldn't visit his home as frequently as before. She didn't want to be present at an awkward moment for both her boyfriend and his father.
Kesari stood for a moment at the table waiting for his father to turn and acknowledge his arrival. Despite the cold war, subconsciously he perhaps still wanted every act or move of his to be approved by his father. Pavan looked at his son without looking into his eyes and half-nodded. Kesari sat in front of him. He quickly looked at the menu and then looked up at his father. He didn't know what to speak. "It was strange how you didn't find words to speak to your own father after a week of not talking to him whereas you could easily talk to someone after years of being out of touch," he thought. So he decided to fill up the silence by nervously asking, "Did you order anything?"
Pavan shook his head, continuing to look everywhere except at his son, and then he looked for the waiter. He had his favorite coconut flavored coffee in mind. Kesari ordered a plain cold cafe latte. He wanted to keep focus on what he was going to say and so didn't mind drinking anything that came his way. Unfortunately waiters are trained not to take 'anything' as an order. So Kesari just blurted out his order.
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