If Anna Hazare wins, I'll never vote again

The UPA government is, without doubt, one of the most corrupt administrations in recent memory. Maybe it is because they actually stole a lot more than their predecessors or maybe they just suck at hiding the loot. But one thing we can all agree upon is that something is definitely wrong somewhere when certain ministers have stolen what is nearly the operating budget of Uruguay.

Enter Anna Hazare with the Jan Lokpal bill. India’s knight in his shining white Khadi armour. Him of that iconic pose where he has his hands on his chin and his eyes fixed on an imaginary plane in the sky, with a sly smile spreading across his lips as if he got reminded of the mile high club just as the photographer was about to click. To the Anna army, this is what we call a harmless joke so keep you pants on.

Indeed Anna Hazare does have an impeccable record of well meaning social service. Even the UPA government’s attempt to tarnish him fizzled out. But does that mean he can march in there and demand that the government rewrite the laws and spell it the way he wants? Let me tell you why I have a problem with him doing that.

I am not going to debate on the Lokpal bill as that itself is a can of worms right there. I would rather focus on the present ‘Anna revolution’ ably supported by sections of the media (understandably going wet in their pants at the thought of all the ratings their coverage is going to garner).  

They tell us he has the support of the entire country. Well, he sure as hell does not have mine so that is the entire country minus one. And if there is me, then surely there is bound to be more. So the only logical way forward is to take a headcount of the number of people who are actually involved in the 'revolution'. You know, the ones whose fasts don’t end with an Ifthar.

You have one lakh at Ramlila Maidan. Heck, let us assume that 9 lakh more are aware of/actively support the Lokpal and his fast for it. That brings us to a sum total of a million people. Quite a sizable number but sadly, around one in twentieth of India’s population. My calculator tells me that is 5%.

So we have 5% of the population trying to force the government to accept their views on something that the other 95% either does not agree with, or can’t be arsed about because they have more important stuff like feeding the kids to worry about.

The preamble to the constitution guarantees me equality. It tells me that I do not have to have somebody else’s views forced down upon me unless there is a democratic election and I am on the losing side. Now if the Govt were to agree to their demands, then these 5% will have forced through their demands through an undemocratic process and hence will have proved themselves to be supercitizens, demoting the likes of me to being a secondary citizen of India. Are they going to issue a separate passport to me? Can I sue my Social Studies teacher who told me I was as equal as the other kid whose dad had a Benz though mine had a scooter?

If Anna Hazare were to take the decent path, contest the elections, manage a majority and pass the Lokpal in the parliament, then I cannot complain. It would, in the process, have brought Lokpal to the attention of the general public and would have initiated a debate on its good and bad aspects. But if he passes it through like this, he would have made a mockery of all the people who elected their representatives and tasked them with framing laws. And I would not let that happen to me more than once. If Anna Hazare wins, I’ll never vote again.

The Nrityagram Dance Ensemble

So the fun starts when I get a late night call from my editor telling me to wake up early in the morning coz I'd have to interview a troupe of Odissi dancers. I groaned for two reasons. Waking up in the morning was alien to me. One of the best things about my job was I could wander in at 11am and still be one of the earliest ones. And the second reason was coz they were dancers. I knew nothing about Indian classical dance and I hadn't even seen Odissi before.
I reached the given address in the morning and found myself in a nice tharavadu style house hidden away in the middle of the city. I rang the bell and this old dude opened the door and asked what I wanted. I said I was from City Journal and he promptly replied, 'No, we don't want to buy it and shut the door'.  I wept inside for the circulation people.
Upon further clarification, we were invited to sit inside and wait for the dancers who were having their breakfast. And when the came, they weren't exactly what I expected. There were just three of them (I had expected a whole horde) and they were as lively and as interesting as they came. After introductions, I promptly confessed I did not have a clue neither about dancing nor about Odissi.One of them asked me if we could start talking about who they were and what they did and that was the start of a very interesting conversation that lasted for an hour and half almost. We talked about all things ranging from how 'normal' people perceived us 'artists' to the Commonwealth Games opening ceremony. A very interesting conversation for me carried out in the most informal way possible. I had my repertoire of bad jokes and even left with a 'dint take down anything so will need one of your phone numbers for the actual interview'. Oh the horror!!. And they made me promise that I'd show up for their performance later in the evening.

I got back to my office and figured I'd try find something online about Odissi and their troupe and imagine my horror when Google decides to autocomplete when I start typing out their names! Surupa Sen was the present artistic director of the Nrityagram, Protima Bedi's disciple and her successor. Bijayini Satpathy was twice judged the best performer in any arts in the country and Pavithra Reddy was the rising star of the Odissi world. Articles about them had appeared in the New York Times and Pittsburgh Post. I was stumped. Me and my stupid big mouth!

That evening, I went and attended their performance and it is hard to describe it. I'll just say that most of us snore at classical dance coz we're regularly fed shit in our schools and colleges.  The real deal is as interesting as they come. Anyway as I walked off, I started thinking about what would have been if I had known they were such a big deal when I went to interview them. Would I have been more careful? Probably, but would would it have been that interesting? Naah.

On a side note, one of them told me that to lose weight, all I had to do was stand on my hands. I have to find out whether they were kidding or not.

Kutty Srank vs Anti Gravity dude

My last post was met with a furious backlash on Facebook (I'm looking at you, Renjith), both against the apparent snore fest Kutty Srank and what is, apparently, the best film of all time, the anti-gravity dude starrer, Endhiran. I meant to explain with a few comments, but as I started writing, felt that it merited more of a blogpost than a comment So is poor Kutty Srank even comparable to Endhiran?

Starting with Kutty Srank, my friends argue that the movie is dragging. They couldn't have been more right. I nearly fell asleep during a couple of stretches of time (I saw it after having a cocktail they called 'Deathwish', so could have been that). I'll also add a couple of negatives of my own. It doesn't have one linear story, instead the movie takes the viewers attention and plays volley with it. And perhaps what disappointed me the most was that with the type of narrative used, I went is expecting the three stories to uncover different facets of the title character, but instead got the same character in three stories. A massive potential gone untapped.

So you must be wondering why I, in my quest to brand it an awesome movie, first made it look like birdcrap. I wish I could tell you, but I'm not sure.

But moving on to the positives, the settings (all three of them) and the characters are as good as any you'll ever find on a movie screen. The three backgrounds of the three stories are mesmerizing in their contrast. The lack of an effective linear story does affect it, but when you get out of the theatre, you feel as if you've woken up from a series of dreams. It will all come back to you in a series of incherent scenes for a fleeting instant, but you'll find yourself wishing you could hold on to it. It's like watching a girl turn around and flash one last mesmerizing smile before she goes off forever.

Now moving on to the anit gravity dude, the biggest positive they have to tell of it is the special effects. They tell me it is the best anyone's ever seen in an Indian film. But that is not saying much, is it? A few years ago, that diahorreic cow of a director, Vinayan, was saying the same about some of his movies, and he wasn't exaclty light years away from the truth. I mean, I saw a lot of the trailer and none of the animation in it struck me as being as impressive as the video they play every week before a Premier league match starts.

So, please, don't compare that masterpiece, albiet flawed, but still a masterpiece, to a movie where they spent 165 crores on wigs and photshopping the wrinkles off Aishwarya Rai's face. Many a master will turn in his grave.

Madness (Ft. Anti Gravity Dude)

As I woke up today morning, I received a call from my editor asking me to check out the reception to the latest offering from that God of anti-gravity Rajinikant. Even though I'm not a big fan of anti-gravity scenes where the hero throws around the villain's goons like ragdolls (tell me, why did they get hired as goons in the first place, if they were that bad?), I was relishing the opportunity to do some field reporting as I had been at the editing desk for the last few days. Don't take me wrong, editing is as fun as it gets, but occasionally you do need to get out and get some fresh air.

So I find out that the movie is playing in three theatres in Thrissur. Three? You have a national award nominated Mallu film, trying to find a place to get released and the anti gravity dude gets three theatres? And to make things worse, it also has 197 more screens in Kerala. I mean, I know we're the land of madmen, but do we need to advertise it like this?

With all due repect to the film, I'vent seen it and I don't think I will (which is what I said when the anti-gravity dude released his last film, but I ended up seeing it twice which is what happens when you go to a college who, apart from worshipping anti-gravity, also feel the need to try and induce more intellectually abled people to join the cult), and I know it is wrong of me to judge a film, but the people I interviewed told me a lot of things that I found ridiculous.

So while Kutty Srank languishes viewerless, this one packs 200 theaters in Kerala. Another milestone in the development of the 'intelectual' mallu society. Way to go!

Randomness #1

Sitting in the office, a headline flashes on the TV...

Butt made me fix matches - Aamir.

What can I say? He should have listened to his head.

Life in Technicolor

I had forgotten completely about this blog for the past half an year or so. It is amazing how even the most familiar of things fade into obscurity after they've spent a long time hiding from your immediate memory. And so into the deep dark underworld, did this blog too, until Jomy shook it up.

To make a long story short, Jomy is a friend from college, who went back to Delhi after that. Yesterday, I got a call from him when he mentioned that he started a blog (Check out his awesome blog here) and it brought to mind the one that I had maintained for years. I promised myself I'd check it out again.

And when I got to 'the neigbour's dog...', I found it to be a relic from an age gone by. My life had changed beyond recognition since the last post and it represented what I was, once upon a time. So I resolved to begin again just as my life had from the ashes of college life.

Life in Technicolor is one of my favorite Coldplay songs. And hearing it always brings to my mind, a vivid imaginary, to copy the like of which on canvas, they'll have to invent a whole new type of paint. And it is only fitting that I paint my life in that color.

This is the first of many changes. I plan to make this place virtually unrecognizable in a week. But the old posts will remain. It's always nice to have something to remind you where you came from.

And unlike, the last time I made a promise to blog regularly, I'm more equipped to keep it this time. I now work for a newspaper (check it out here), and when you're in that line of work, it gives you a lot of food for thought and a computer with access to the net 24x7. What more does a writer want?

So here goes this post, the first of many to come....

Stupid Story

"You're so sour, I probably wouldn't want you" said the fox as he walked away from the grapes. Grapes didn't care. The fox was just bitter that she was out of reach. As the fox walked away, she slipped back in to her own little world, woven together of a delicate yarn and covered with patterns of callousness that scared away potential predators from her deepest insecurities. She had dodged stones for so long, knowing that the fox was bound to realize the undeniable truth, sooner rather than later. The grapes were out of reach.

"Bray", a rather revolting noise brought her back from her thoughts. Down below, stood an ass.

"What are you doing here?" the grapes asked propelled by a sudden infusion of contempt brought about by a realization of the fact that she was indeed unassailable.

"Can't you see that I am out of reach?"

"No" the ass blinked.

The grapes was confused. She never had to encounter that situation before. The fox was smart enough to realize that she was out of reach within a few stones but the ass was different. The ass was stupid. In fact, probably so stupid that there was a huge possibility that the ass was never going to realize the aforementioned truth.

"Whatever" thought the grapes, "He's never going to hit me."

She looked the other way, but curiosity prevailed as she looked down to see the ass, slowly and wearily, trudge all around to collect the stones that were meant for her. She smiled inside. He wasn't gonna last long. After what seemed like an eternity, and it probably was an eternity too, the ass finally had a pile of stones in front of him. And with a playing speed that would give slow motion replays a run for their money, he threw the first stone. The grapes couldn't even see where it went. His aim sucked.

As the ass repeated the above action for a second time, the grapes thought she was going to die of boredom. But throw it, he did and again, it did not even come close.

"Great marksmen never manage to hit me" the grapes announced, "Why do you even bother to try?"

The ass looked up and blinked. "I don't know", he said "I just try."

The grapes looked up in exasperation. This was going to be a long day.

And so it proved, and it did not stop there. It was followed by another long day and then another and so on till they added up to make a long week, which in turn added up to make a long month, which later formed many long months. The ass, stupid as he was, never realized that the grapes was out of reach for most creatures, let alone one with the pathetic aim and limited reach that he possessed. So he threw and threw and when the small pile in front of him had been extinguished, he again trudged around wearily till he made another one. And then he started throwing again.

The grapes by the beginning of the second week had forgotten all about the ass. He was now a part of her surroundings, just like the beehive on the next tree, which incidentally got hit by a stray stone, which incidentally caused all the bees to launch a well orchestrated offensive on the ass. He was now as constant as the hot sun that blistered on his back, day in day out, as unrelenting as the freezing nights that so cruelly numbed his every muscle, when the sun finished its shift of torture. But the ass was stupid. He never knew these things were supposed to hold you back. He never knew the laws of nature. He just wanted the grapes.

Then one fine day, when the birds were out in force singing their hearts out, every single vine in the forest swayed with a sense of tranquility and joy that characterized the whole world, the grapes at last remembered the ass. It looked down to find the ass lying there, covered with blisters, his skin pale, his bones sticking out of his skin, lying there next to a solitary stone. It was the last stone of the last pile that he was going to make. The ass then called on its last reserves of life, picked up the stone and threw it. It did not hit the grapes. In fact, it landed right next to the ass. Then unnoticed by an entire world, busy celebrating a beautiful day, it fell down and died. Unnoticed by everyone except for the grapes.

The grapes stared down at the ass for sometime pausing to find the right words to express what she now felt for the ass. And then she found the right words.

"What an idiot!"

Five Seconds..

00:00:01 : WOW!...this feels good!...no, wait...this feels absolutely amazing!...I've literally never felt so buoyant before in my life...yet this feels so vaguely familiar...that feeling that makes you think you're flying...Wait a sec!...am I actually flying?...HOLY SHIT!!...I'm actually flying!...Look beneath ya, you idiot!...No ground, lots of air!...Ok, don't panic...take a deep breath...relax..recap...we were on a bike...Jomy was driving it...Oh!..so that's what happened...we must have crashed...and I must have gotten thrown off...

00:00:02 : I hope I don't die...we'll probably die though...most people who get thrown off their bikes land on their head and die...God! thatz awful...I mean, not the dying part, but the landing on my head and dying part...I've always hoped for something a bit more heroic...I'd rather land on my chest and get impaled by a piece of stray metal...now therz a death that has everything...blood, gore, painful injuries and maybe that final image of me standing on the road and heroically pulling the metal out of that large gaping hole in my chest and...but this, one could almost imagine the jokes that are gonna circulate around campus..."He spent an entire life trying to avoid using his head and the one time, he should have avoided it, he lands on it"...Crap!...but, ah well!...no use thinking about all that now...when we're done for, we're done for....

00:00:03 : Hmmm...I wonder how they're gonna go about my funeral...lots of relatives probably, just like it is at every single one of those family functions...Yuck! I'd rather be left alone than be pseudo-mourned by people who barely even knew me...lots of friends too...thatz one thing we can look back with pride...when we were growing up, the biggest problem seemed to be making friends but now it looks like we've become a natural at it...girls?...not many, probably...which seems justified considering you've spent a lifetime being awful to them...I hope my sister brings along a few of her friends and lets my soul rest in piece...yet what is this feeling that seems so familiar?...I don't recall ever getting thrown off anything!...never flown before either!...maybe I was Superman in my last life!...wait!...does this mean that Superman is dead?

00:00:04 : Ok...it looks like we're losing speed...and altitude...we could hit ground any moment now, so you better wrap things up...last wishes?...inconsequential, since it's doubtful if anybody's gonna be around to carry them out...any regrets?...dude, we spent an entire life living like we did, so that we wouldn't have any regrets when we go...So I don't wanna spent the last few moments of my life realizing that I failed the one solitary goal, I set for myself...change of subject...Ah, herz a nice one...close your eyes and remember the one moment of your life that you wanna remember again...ok, here goes...concentrate..."Beckham...into Sheringham....and Solskjaer has won it!!"...wait an effing minute!...thatz that?...all that craziness and the last minute of a football match is the best you can come up with?...Granted it was a great match, but still!....try again!...relax and recap!...relax and recap!...I'm walking....and walking...Oh my God! She has like the hugest pair of eyes I've ever seen!...Oh!...So thatz where I know this flying feeling from!...I should ave guessed!....

00:00:05 : THUD!...did we die?...doesn't look like it...head still on my neck, everything still attached...ok!, deep breaths!...relax!...routine checkup!...arm covered in blood!...routine...wounds in my inside palm?...thatz gonna hurt!...bloody knee!...routine...wait!...DID I JUST LAND ON MY DODGY KNEE!?!...CRAZY IDIOT, I TOLD YOU TO GO FOR THE HEAD!!...wait!...which one was the dodgy knee again?...Oh, crap!...relax and recap!..."Louie coming in...me going in with my right foot"...AHA!....it's the left knee that got fecked!...and I've landed on my right one!...woohoo!...thank you, God for that!...wait, does this mean we're gonna have two dodgy knees from now on?...crap!...I take that back, God, you're one slippery little bugger!...JOMY!!...wherz Jomy!!...and the bike!...did they go over the edge?...no, wait, there he is...Wow, did I just fly across all that distance?...that must be like a new Olympic long jump record...pity, no onez around to verify...Ah, here he comes...he looks okay...and hopefully, I'm too...except that it feels like I'm missing something...where the feck is my mobile!!!...


PS: The author survived with four stitches on his hand and few other wounds. His friend did not need stitches (HA!). They're still locked in an argument so as to who lost more blood that day. The author feels that since he had the deeper wound, it should really be a no-contest. The bike was scraped in a few places, but thankfully still works. The owner of the bike exacted his revenge by taking a snap of the author getting injected in the butt. At the time of writing, the author and his friend still look forward to their next ride together..

What is it with me and naming articles?

My futile attempt at writing a short story rots below and its stench blocks out my nose every time I log on to this page. A lot has happened since then. Technofest came and left, proving that my earlier fears about my volatile hormones were completely unfounded. Not a single girl caught my imagination, partly thanks to the fact that I managed to keep myself busy during the entire thing, and partly thanks to the fact, that while keeping busy, I somehow managed to miss all the dance events. That's where you normally see nice looking girls doing nice looking things, and even though missing it was far from intentional, there is no denying the fact that it yielded more positives than negatives. So I guess somebody up there was accidentally tuning in when I said my prayers regarding the whole thing.

But as the ones amongst you, who haven't realized this yet, will soon realize, the only way to escape the bricks that life throws at you is to drive up to the nearest cliff, take a moment to enjoy the scenery and then jump off it. Either that or whatever imaginative, brilliant masterplan that you come up with on how to take your own life. Now even though, it has nothing to do with where I intend to take the rest of this article, I must pause for a moment to reflect on the importance of meeting a good, interesting end. Imagine one of those GD sessions in heaven or hell or wherever it is that you end up after you die, and you're faced with the ignominy of saying 'I chocked to death on a cookie', while sitting next to you is the guy who died in a space shuttle explosion. And if ancient texts are to believe, the mistakes you make in life will haunt you only till you die (or lose your mind, whichever happens first) but the ones that you make in death will haunt you for an eternity. Afterlife rarely affords you second chances. And you can forget about reincarnation, 'cause right now you're sitting there, looking like the kid who did a reasonable job through high school, only to flunk his final exams. So die well, in a really really creative manner that will make people remember you with awe. Leave the heart attacks and automobile accidents to the creatively bereft. Jump off a plane, wrestle with a tiger, get the Pope to shoot you and all these are off the top of my head. I'm sure a less sleepier, more creative someone can come with better things.

I was really depressed when I started writing this, as bouts of forcing myself to prepare for incoming exams were once again accusing me of wasting 3 years of my life and were forecasting how I was going to waste one more in a meaningless halfhearted pursuit of a B.Tech degree which will probably end up with me saying enough is enough and running off to some place, hidden deep inside some surreal dream that the hounds of the realism will never be able to see. I was going to ramble on and on about how I got myself into this mess, but I guess we'll leave that for another day now that I feel light as a feather inside. It's amazing how writing something so utterly ridiculous can make you feel absolutely fantastic. God sure has a twisted sense of humor. Thank you if you're tuning in.

Too sleepy to name this.