THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE GRASSHOPPER
Aka
THE GRASSHOPPER,THE OTHER GRASSHOPPER AND THE WOLF
Aka
TWO GRASSHOPPERS AND A WOLF
Aka
SOMETIME IN THE MIDDLE OF AUGUST
A play
LIST OF CHARACTERS AND PROPS
The Narrator (N)
The Boy (B)
B&W picture of the boy’s grand uncle
Diary of the grand uncle
The grasshopper (G1)
The other grasshopper (G2)
The wolf (W)
The wolf pack (can be shown in the background, or done in graphics)
THE ACTUAL PLAYS BEGINS FROM HERE
N: “Here!”
(Members of the audience maintain appreciable silence, one man in the right corner is munching tapioca chips at the same time reading a book titled ‘Manners and Etiquette in the 21th Century: A Guide’)
N: “Here!”
(The writer of the play is perplexed as he watches it from the front row, to hide his nervousness he smiles brightly)
N: “Brothers and Sisters, Playwrights, Copywriters and Nude Models, today being the Sunday of our interest; we the Shake Some Pears Playhouse are proud to present our new play so mysteriously named ‘The Grasshopper and…the Grasshopper!!’
(Man munches chips)
The stage dims and the curtains are brought down; stage men frantically bring out the only furniture required for the play, a chair. Lights fill stage, the boy is under the chair; there is nobody on it
B: “I’ve found it!”
The boy pretends to be under a treacherous ravine in the Australian outback, the boy also pretends to be an archaeologist, and the only thing real about the scene is the diary in his hand.
B: “I have found the diary of my grand Uncle! See it even has his picture”
The Stage dims, the boy is asked to leave the stage so that the narrator can continue; but the boy is so enamored by theatre that he refuses to budge; finally his real mother drags him out. All this happens in the darkness
Light fills the stage again.
N: the diary of the grand uncle was not a myth constructed by old leaking men to pass the time; it was very much there for the boy to find. It was the boy’s destiny to find the diary of the grand uncle and he had done so. Such is life, but the most perplexing thing that was to happen when the boy finally read the diary of the grand uncle. The diary of the grand uncle was like any other diary, it was not filled in everyday but on certain important dates when the grand uncle made some kind of progress in his romantic life; typical entries would be as follows
“Today the 16th of December, 1867. Clarice is married off to some roguish nobleman from Italy that leaves me with no other option but Clarice’s sister Eve.”
Or something like this
“Today the 16th of December, 1868. Eve is married off to the same roguish nobleman from Italy after Clarice dies under mysterious circumstances, which leaves me with no other option. Maybe I should go west.”
“Today the 16th of December, 1869. I am currently in San Francisco; there is no more west to go.”
As I said, it is quite an ordinary diary if you don’t consider the writing in green. A curious little conversation between three animals or to be more specific two members of the insect family and one animal; no one knows how this was written or it is the Grand Uncle himself who had jotted down the conversation during his endless travels. Apart from all this the most baffling thing about the conversation was why it was written in green ink, a question that has stood the test of time.
G1: Here!
G2: Where?
G1: There was once a boy who lived on the hill, not far from here….
G2: Wait! What is this?
G1: A story, he never went to school but then he became a teacher….
G2: I never asked you for a story, never did, never have
G1: There is no rule that a narration should begin only when initiated by the listener
G2: But then, I don’t want to listen to a story…
G1: I don’t care. He became an inspiring teacher and told many amazing tales concerning the bravery of the sailors in the South Seas….
G2: OK, what did the sixty two year old rock star do when he was ousted from his band?
G1: Wait, what are you doing?
G2: I just made up a joke
G1: You are interrupting my story don’t you see?
G2: I don’t care about the story, so I needed to pass the time; so I made up the joke
G1: That’s not the point, you interrupted my story
G2: It’s ok, at least complete my joke. Its smaller than you story
G1 (reluctantly): OK what’s the question?
G2: OK, what did the sixty two year old rock star do when he was ousted from his band?
G1: Uh..um..wait..i think I know this one…um..give me a minute…there in my head but just can’t say it.
G2 smiles and whistles, but not at the same time
G2: One minute over, sir
G1: Ok, go on. It’s nothing anyway.
G2: what did the sixty two year old rock star do when he was ousted from his band?
He bought himself a rocking chair to keep him warm.
G1: That’s not a joke by any standards, that’s the worst thing I have ever heard in my life
G2: Brother we are grasshoppers, we do not have standards.
G1: yes we do, we also have a consumer court and a broadcasting corporation and primary health centers and a games village……(G1 then lists down the achievements of the grasshopping empire)
A wolf nearby, until then was sleeping quite peacefully, predictably the wolf being the wolf got irritated and uttered one of the two dialogues written down for him.
W: Grrrrrrr!!Wooof! stop it you pests! Wooof!
G1&G2 : We are not pests, we are grasshoppers
W: Woof! No peace in this world, can’t a wolf get his sleep
Curtains come down slowly, as the narrator walks in briskly with his nervous smile and bows towards the audience, amidst clapping here and there; there is nothing much to say.
The man finishes reading the book and his chip pack at the same time, throws them onto the stage and walks out feeling cheated.
THE END
CURTAIN
SILENCE
Friday, October 15, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
MUTE ELEPHANTS
MUTE ELEPHANTS
The writer slept thoughless, the white comfort of the bed spreads kept him from getting up. Unfinished episodes of an epic lay opened on his processor, past the due date. Suddenly the familiar noise of his ringtone reached his almost dead ears.
“Dude, it’s past noon. Where are the lines?” the voice identified to be of the assistant
“Huh? See it’s tough, I simply can’t get lines for the scene, but I have some suggestions”
The assistant now “You said these were best scenes written only yesterday…” the things people say to make a living.
“I mean there is something fundamentally wrong with the scene; you see elephants don’t go and form armies”
“Dude, this is the future; when elephants can talk, they have a right to form armies and that’s how it’s in the book”
“My point exactly, even in the future elephants are most unlikely to talk; we really have to chop that thing down here or we have to do with mute elephants”
“Mute Elephants! You must be joking, the USP of the film is a talking elephant, now you are writer think of something or be sacked” the assistant said.
The writer looks up at the ceiling, thinking if there was anything that could strike his head and get him killed, then something struck.
The writer said “So basically, the elephants are chased by aliens who come to earth in search of ivory and all of a sudden they elephants realize they can speak, is that it?”
“Yeah, and then they reach the end of land and there is this sea from then on, we need some line there, it should hold the episode together, something dramatic”
The writer imagines the unimaginable an elephant talking to the last of their tribe, in that moment of desperation what will it say? Then it came to him.
“We are going to need a bigger boat” he blurts into the microphone, suddenly he feels excited as if he had written the catch
There was silence for a moment on the other end, the writer thought that the assistant too might too impressed
Then came the words “Boss said you were an original thinker” and the line went dead.
"Hello?Hello" the writer kept repeating without realizing that was the end.
The writer slept thoughless, the white comfort of the bed spreads kept him from getting up. Unfinished episodes of an epic lay opened on his processor, past the due date. Suddenly the familiar noise of his ringtone reached his almost dead ears.
“Dude, it’s past noon. Where are the lines?” the voice identified to be of the assistant
“Huh? See it’s tough, I simply can’t get lines for the scene, but I have some suggestions”
The assistant now “You said these were best scenes written only yesterday…” the things people say to make a living.
“I mean there is something fundamentally wrong with the scene; you see elephants don’t go and form armies”
“Dude, this is the future; when elephants can talk, they have a right to form armies and that’s how it’s in the book”
“My point exactly, even in the future elephants are most unlikely to talk; we really have to chop that thing down here or we have to do with mute elephants”
“Mute Elephants! You must be joking, the USP of the film is a talking elephant, now you are writer think of something or be sacked” the assistant said.
The writer looks up at the ceiling, thinking if there was anything that could strike his head and get him killed, then something struck.
The writer said “So basically, the elephants are chased by aliens who come to earth in search of ivory and all of a sudden they elephants realize they can speak, is that it?”
“Yeah, and then they reach the end of land and there is this sea from then on, we need some line there, it should hold the episode together, something dramatic”
The writer imagines the unimaginable an elephant talking to the last of their tribe, in that moment of desperation what will it say? Then it came to him.
“We are going to need a bigger boat” he blurts into the microphone, suddenly he feels excited as if he had written the catch
There was silence for a moment on the other end, the writer thought that the assistant too might too impressed
Then came the words “Boss said you were an original thinker” and the line went dead.
"Hello?Hello" the writer kept repeating without realizing that was the end.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
BEYOND REELS REWIND: THE MALTESE FALCON
When the entire world or at least half of it is nervous about the economic break down or about an impending war in the Indo-Pak region, I am in the comfort of my house writing a piece about a 1940’s flick.
It’s not that I do not want to write about serious things and mind you ‘The Maltese Falcon’ is a serious thing for me. I have had experiences of breaking out serious things or the so called serious things of my life and people have found it light and funny, so it better I write seriously about what people find light and not so funny.
I have wanted to write this for sometime now, it’s been weeks since I have seen the movie and I let sink into me; it is by far the best detective movie that I have ever watched.
I had a different story to tell before I watched ‘The Maltese Falcon’ I would have voted for Roman Polanski’s Chinatown, which is in its own right a great movie.
Now I have been reading a lot of Ebert in the recent past, so if any of guys see some of his style; please do forgive as a mark of a coming of age writer trying to put his inspirations into practice.
Let’s first define a detective movie: in the past I was more accustomed to the British way of the classic detective stories which predominantly involved in a sub-superhuman eccentric detective with holdings at some prime location in London and having their own special qualities and punch lines. But the American detective is quite different which is quite evident from the fact that he is more human than all of his contemporaries or his seniors.
As is the case with Sam Spade played brilliantly by my favorite actor (move over Kamal) Humphrey Bogart; his voice remains in your head even after the movie gets over, it is the best performance by anyone playing a detective on film.
The Maltese Falcon made in 1941 by the Warner brothers was also the directorial debut of John Huston who later made the Treasure of Sierra Madre also with Bogart. The story is an adaptation of Dashiel Hammet’s classic hard boiled detective story of the same name.
I have been hooked on to these detective stories for sometime now and the thirst has increased after I did read Raymond Chandler’s ‘Farewell my lovely’ and is a sign that I have moved over from Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
The story is not a whodunit, it more than just a detective story, it seems to be about a falcon of the ancient times but is more than that. I would be called superficial as I quote one of the scriptures which describe the God as someone who is much more than what we define but I think it is the case with whatever we live, it is more than as it seems.
Sam Spade (Bogart) is ideally supported by Mary Astor and peter Lorre and with some stunning cinematography; indeed black and white has brought the best in the camera, I wonder how they made this movie in 1941, it’s as contemporary as any other recent movie at the same time keeping to its time which maybe in other words defining what a classic is all about.
And the effect of this I started downloading all other film-noir movies; I hope to write about them as well. Do watch it; if you like the movies and you believe that a good movie can tell a very good story and not just to showcase the money spending attitude of the producer or the pompous nature of the lead actor who has three fights and two songs and one opening song. Which in my country is called ‘commercial’ cinema and all those people reading this who think that I am one snob who feels that the ‘grass is always greener on the other side’ and that Indian Cinema is for the masses.
I wish to differ, I am a lover of Indian Cinema as it is and that one cannot be compared to another and that they are far advanced in terms of technology and other things, but the fact is Indian Cinema has hardly been Indian Cinema, it has never indulged itself in telling a good story…any story for that matter and even directors who have good stories have to compromise by bringing in some model from Mumbai for a scantily clad number.
This is definitely not an attack on our movies but I am just a simple man who believes that cinema is a simple medium which tells you a story visually and not anything else.
I wish Shankar would see ‘The Maltese falcon’ and understand that movies are not just about painting bridges and shooting Rahman songs in foreign locales.
Thank You
Satyeki
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
the adventures of Shingen Narahasi
Shingen Narahasi and the Duck-Billed Platypus
The story goes back a long way in time when i started to note down the further adventures of Shingen Narahsi-the famed martial art expert who had been reduced to a cameo in a popular movie this year.
He called to me and said
"Gu Ji Hoko Ni Juiji asadJI"
which in a strange dialect transalates literally as
"How dare you do this to me"
actually i wasn't entirely responsible for what happened in that movie but nevertheless i apologised.
"Sui Hi Jo Ki"
i am still figuring out what that means while we continue with our story
Shingen is on a trip to the zoo, he has never been there before as his father has refused any entertainment trips during his training (although Shingen had fooled his father and had watched Rashomon 45 times at the regal JiKuy theatre with his friend Gui Gji) but had never ventured out into the zoo.
The zoo was a fabulous place complete with all gorillas and orangutans and lions and lionesses. But these did not interest Shingen he wanted something radical..something vibrant and fun to watch so he walked to wards the crocodile enclosure...like shingen the crocodile was also bored and did not move, this further irritated Shingen and he said
"JojO Moki,Moki Jo Jo"
unfortunately for the crocodile like us did not understand Shingen's strange language, it is not as though Shingen did not know English he just found it casual and cool and ultra safe when he spoke in his own language.
Shingen for those who did not know graduated from a university with a major on "Shakespeare and the English language" he even said to me that he played the role of Macbeth in one his primary school days-he didn't enjoy the character very much but developed a sensitive relationship with the girl who played Lady Macbeth.
irritated with the crocodile and all other things around him Shingen decided to do what he does best- Kick ASS, so to everyone's amazement he showcased his talent in the arts, this somehow evoked the interest of a small Duck-billed Platypus so interestingly named Bill.
to continue..
Satyeki
The story goes back a long way in time when i started to note down the further adventures of Shingen Narahsi-the famed martial art expert who had been reduced to a cameo in a popular movie this year.
He called to me and said
"Gu Ji Hoko Ni Juiji asadJI"
which in a strange dialect transalates literally as
"How dare you do this to me"
actually i wasn't entirely responsible for what happened in that movie but nevertheless i apologised.
"Sui Hi Jo Ki"
i am still figuring out what that means while we continue with our story
Shingen is on a trip to the zoo, he has never been there before as his father has refused any entertainment trips during his training (although Shingen had fooled his father and had watched Rashomon 45 times at the regal JiKuy theatre with his friend Gui Gji) but had never ventured out into the zoo.
The zoo was a fabulous place complete with all gorillas and orangutans and lions and lionesses. But these did not interest Shingen he wanted something radical..something vibrant and fun to watch so he walked to wards the crocodile enclosure...like shingen the crocodile was also bored and did not move, this further irritated Shingen and he said
"JojO Moki,Moki Jo Jo"
unfortunately for the crocodile like us did not understand Shingen's strange language, it is not as though Shingen did not know English he just found it casual and cool and ultra safe when he spoke in his own language.
Shingen for those who did not know graduated from a university with a major on "Shakespeare and the English language" he even said to me that he played the role of Macbeth in one his primary school days-he didn't enjoy the character very much but developed a sensitive relationship with the girl who played Lady Macbeth.
irritated with the crocodile and all other things around him Shingen decided to do what he does best- Kick ASS, so to everyone's amazement he showcased his talent in the arts, this somehow evoked the interest of a small Duck-billed Platypus so interestingly named Bill.
to continue..
Satyeki
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
And then it happened
Today happened to be the practicals
was slightly better prepared than yesterday
got an easy program -"Queue Using Arrays" ,later one my academic advisers (whom i have recently recruited and whom i will call Mr.Jones)put it very straight that it was a program even his six year old cousin could write in five minutes-although it took me one whole period.
And having written down the coding, i confidently moved on to the typing part of it,
sadly that the computer was adamant in not bowing down to my programming expertise and i did not get an output till the end of the session(meanwhile i was singing various songs to pass the time), then the teacher who was mean,tall and even meaner came wrote in her slender handwriting-ERROR.
those five letters changed my life forever.
Left the computer lab way before my actual time finished.
then Mr.Jones who called me up when i reached home fighting the rains said that
"No Input-No Output, how foolish" i could picture Mr.Jones shaking his bald head in shame and disagreement
I hope to do better next time Mr.Jones
I really do.
was slightly better prepared than yesterday
got an easy program -"Queue Using Arrays" ,later one my academic advisers (whom i have recently recruited and whom i will call Mr.Jones)put it very straight that it was a program even his six year old cousin could write in five minutes-although it took me one whole period.
And having written down the coding, i confidently moved on to the typing part of it,
sadly that the computer was adamant in not bowing down to my programming expertise and i did not get an output till the end of the session(meanwhile i was singing various songs to pass the time), then the teacher who was mean,tall and even meaner came wrote in her slender handwriting-ERROR.
those five letters changed my life forever.
Left the computer lab way before my actual time finished.
then Mr.Jones who called me up when i reached home fighting the rains said that
"No Input-No Output, how foolish" i could picture Mr.Jones shaking his bald head in shame and disagreement
I hope to do better next time Mr.Jones
I really do.
Monday, October 20, 2008
And all that for nothing
My dislike includes so many things, not that it matters but it is important that I mention it. A very important item on that daily increasing list is the computer program.
It is like one of those unanswerable questions like ‘Why should nature choose earth for life?’- Why should you write c programs?
Nobody has given me an acceptable answer on both, the students and teacher mere claimed that it is important for me, so I accept it without much of a rebellion
As by faith, I believe in the word of the teacher and other over-ambitious but at the same time docile students.
Five days, the stipulated time for me to memorize the given programs for my university practical, and none of them I am quite familiar and comfortable with, so what I do call one of the class big shots (students who are in their third revision)
And ask them how on earth should I read these ‘things’. With the best of their ability, they explain to me what should be done and still nothing penetrates my titanium head.
Day one passes idly including one fruitless trip to college and one fruitful trip to a library where I have lot to choose; keeping in mood the Booker fever I pick up V.S.Naipaul’s In a free state the book which got India’s first man booker (I don’t think it was called man booker then. I still don’t know why it’s called that now), the book is immensely engrossing until now and I’m still reading.
I pick out other books, which includes fictional account on the life of James Bond, which apart from my academic interest in James Bond had a satisfying picture of a white bikini clad blonde (people at the counter claim that this is the only reason I picked it up and I agree shamefully)
In addition, was a movie, which I was waiting to watch for almost a year “All the President’s Men”, starring my all time favorite Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford- a write-up about the movie I am planning to write later.
Day two was spent at a symposium in SRM University, we attended a quiz we had no idea about but still managed to clinch the second place.
Day three and day four being Saturday and Sunday were spent how Saturday and Sunday should be spent.
Tuesday being the practical I decided that I should start by Monday to say the least and by evening I had read through some four programs and still had no clue how I would finish the remaining six or was it seven.
I keep trying to remember the void mains, the int, ptr and all other useless short forms in the C language. Believe me it was an honest attempt sometimes I even thought I understood.
Then comes the rain, we take the morning bus only to return early and facing no practical, it still gives me time to prepare but will I is a million dollar question; and so I have won this short war against the C language. For me it’s enough if a computer is available for writing and looking through the various websites that I usually do-programming is definitely not for me
And all that for nothing.
Satyeki
It is like one of those unanswerable questions like ‘Why should nature choose earth for life?’- Why should you write c programs?
Nobody has given me an acceptable answer on both, the students and teacher mere claimed that it is important for me, so I accept it without much of a rebellion
As by faith, I believe in the word of the teacher and other over-ambitious but at the same time docile students.
Five days, the stipulated time for me to memorize the given programs for my university practical, and none of them I am quite familiar and comfortable with, so what I do call one of the class big shots (students who are in their third revision)
And ask them how on earth should I read these ‘things’. With the best of their ability, they explain to me what should be done and still nothing penetrates my titanium head.
Day one passes idly including one fruitless trip to college and one fruitful trip to a library where I have lot to choose; keeping in mood the Booker fever I pick up V.S.Naipaul’s In a free state the book which got India’s first man booker (I don’t think it was called man booker then. I still don’t know why it’s called that now), the book is immensely engrossing until now and I’m still reading.
I pick out other books, which includes fictional account on the life of James Bond, which apart from my academic interest in James Bond had a satisfying picture of a white bikini clad blonde (people at the counter claim that this is the only reason I picked it up and I agree shamefully)
In addition, was a movie, which I was waiting to watch for almost a year “All the President’s Men”, starring my all time favorite Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford- a write-up about the movie I am planning to write later.
Day two was spent at a symposium in SRM University, we attended a quiz we had no idea about but still managed to clinch the second place.
Day three and day four being Saturday and Sunday were spent how Saturday and Sunday should be spent.
Tuesday being the practical I decided that I should start by Monday to say the least and by evening I had read through some four programs and still had no clue how I would finish the remaining six or was it seven.
I keep trying to remember the void mains, the int, ptr and all other useless short forms in the C language. Believe me it was an honest attempt sometimes I even thought I understood.
Then comes the rain, we take the morning bus only to return early and facing no practical, it still gives me time to prepare but will I is a million dollar question; and so I have won this short war against the C language. For me it’s enough if a computer is available for writing and looking through the various websites that I usually do-programming is definitely not for me
And all that for nothing.
Satyeki
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Road 2
2. Egmore Railway Station
I was tired, as I did say before and couldn’t continue my supposed travelogue beyond the extremely tiring journey from college to home and so now that time has come again.
The object of my travel would be the National Institute of Trichy formerly known as the Regional Engineering College, as a man who is actively involved in certain areas of art I decided that I would be deserving enough to take part in their cultural event so easily titled Festember and yes you don’t have to ask, it does happen in the month of September it would be pointless to call it Festuary or Festuly (but festuary rhymes with estuary and will surely made use of in one of me later poems about this universe)
As all plans go wrong, this one also did, my original plan was to board a train a day earlier with my usual traveling but I started a day late thereby missing the event I was most looking out for-the lone wolf quiz. Not that I am the winning sort but the lone wolf quiz do test your individual thinking capacity.
I had taken lone wolf quizzes before, the most popular one being the IIT lone wolf quiz, the truth is that I enjoyed doing it but did not progress and progress is not a thing that I would care for; looking back into my life progress has been minimum and the pink cards called ‘progress cards’ I would receive till my primary only showed the opposite of the word in question. Not that I was too dumb or maybe I was it is to the information of the readers that the color of the progress card was changed to green when I ‘progressed’ to higher classes
Progressing to Egmore, I take a late evening train out of Mambalam looking out for familiar faces to accompany during an uneventful journey which is to follow, local trains in Chennai aren’t much crowded but Murphy’s law always works perfect for me...I being the quintessential negative person-it was crowded.
A man whose mouth was full of something I do not wish to describe made an effort in starting a conversation with me, I being the innocent listener was afraid that he would mistake me for one of the railway corners which are so helpfully painted red by people like the man who I was talking to.
He talked so much-topics ranged from the population density of the train to the habitat of the koala bear. I wished that Egmore station was nearer, later I reflected that the only word I had uttered during this conversation was a polite ‘Hmm’. Not that the man was intolerable or something I develop something of this sort called instinctive dislike to people I don’t know why but it something of an inherent quality I seem to posses like Harry Potter’s scar which aches when the old bad man is around.
Man with red thing in your mouth- if you are reading this I am sorry I really used you in getting this travelogue forward and hope we had a great conversation.
I reached Egmore way before any train in my direction would leave, so I took the lower bridge tapping my brain to find the bookstore on Egmore railway station, I finally find true to it’s pace when I saw some years back-The Ramakrishna Mission Bookstore.
I am not ashamed to agree that I quite a religious man, I find so many are ashamed at accepting such a fundamental thing- the impulsive book buyer that I am( I nearly spend all my father’s salary buying second hand books and we starve for the rest of the month)
I got one book on meditation by Swami Vivekananda himself which I am yet to read I didn’t know why I bought it but I did.
I spent rest of the fruitful moments reading through other books till the shopkeeper shooed me away like a rabid dog, then my friend arrived and we bought unreserved tickets to Srirangam.
The railway station, one of the oldest in the country , it would not be untrue that the golden age of the southern railways began at Egmore and I did like strolling through old buildings.
Till late eleven o clock we were hopping from one platform to another looking at heroines on movie poster and flashy magazine covers and having two rounds of caffeine.
I even tried singing “Hello I Love you ….won’t you tell me your name” which caused serious panic on platform nine and no quarters people began running in opposite directions and caused a minor stampede which was reported on the 17th page of the Times of India the next day, over all another day until the train arrived as usual late.
Satyeki
I was tired, as I did say before and couldn’t continue my supposed travelogue beyond the extremely tiring journey from college to home and so now that time has come again.
The object of my travel would be the National Institute of Trichy formerly known as the Regional Engineering College, as a man who is actively involved in certain areas of art I decided that I would be deserving enough to take part in their cultural event so easily titled Festember and yes you don’t have to ask, it does happen in the month of September it would be pointless to call it Festuary or Festuly (but festuary rhymes with estuary and will surely made use of in one of me later poems about this universe)
As all plans go wrong, this one also did, my original plan was to board a train a day earlier with my usual traveling but I started a day late thereby missing the event I was most looking out for-the lone wolf quiz. Not that I am the winning sort but the lone wolf quiz do test your individual thinking capacity.
I had taken lone wolf quizzes before, the most popular one being the IIT lone wolf quiz, the truth is that I enjoyed doing it but did not progress and progress is not a thing that I would care for; looking back into my life progress has been minimum and the pink cards called ‘progress cards’ I would receive till my primary only showed the opposite of the word in question. Not that I was too dumb or maybe I was it is to the information of the readers that the color of the progress card was changed to green when I ‘progressed’ to higher classes
Progressing to Egmore, I take a late evening train out of Mambalam looking out for familiar faces to accompany during an uneventful journey which is to follow, local trains in Chennai aren’t much crowded but Murphy’s law always works perfect for me...I being the quintessential negative person-it was crowded.
A man whose mouth was full of something I do not wish to describe made an effort in starting a conversation with me, I being the innocent listener was afraid that he would mistake me for one of the railway corners which are so helpfully painted red by people like the man who I was talking to.
He talked so much-topics ranged from the population density of the train to the habitat of the koala bear. I wished that Egmore station was nearer, later I reflected that the only word I had uttered during this conversation was a polite ‘Hmm’. Not that the man was intolerable or something I develop something of this sort called instinctive dislike to people I don’t know why but it something of an inherent quality I seem to posses like Harry Potter’s scar which aches when the old bad man is around.
Man with red thing in your mouth- if you are reading this I am sorry I really used you in getting this travelogue forward and hope we had a great conversation.
I reached Egmore way before any train in my direction would leave, so I took the lower bridge tapping my brain to find the bookstore on Egmore railway station, I finally find true to it’s pace when I saw some years back-The Ramakrishna Mission Bookstore.
I am not ashamed to agree that I quite a religious man, I find so many are ashamed at accepting such a fundamental thing- the impulsive book buyer that I am( I nearly spend all my father’s salary buying second hand books and we starve for the rest of the month)
I got one book on meditation by Swami Vivekananda himself which I am yet to read I didn’t know why I bought it but I did.
I spent rest of the fruitful moments reading through other books till the shopkeeper shooed me away like a rabid dog, then my friend arrived and we bought unreserved tickets to Srirangam.
The railway station, one of the oldest in the country , it would not be untrue that the golden age of the southern railways began at Egmore and I did like strolling through old buildings.
Till late eleven o clock we were hopping from one platform to another looking at heroines on movie poster and flashy magazine covers and having two rounds of caffeine.
I even tried singing “Hello I Love you ….won’t you tell me your name” which caused serious panic on platform nine and no quarters people began running in opposite directions and caused a minor stampede which was reported on the 17th page of the Times of India the next day, over all another day until the train arrived as usual late.
Satyeki
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Oh Pigeon! you have no reason!
I always wanted to write poems, the sweet ones about the mountains and rivers and beautiful women- but there was one big glitch in it, i couldn't find these things to write about in everyday life this is to say the least.
I searched for a mountain
but could see none
I searched for a river but found out that my city was lacking in god's blessings
and finally i looked for beautiful women-lacking in personal experience i thought i would ask people about what beauty meant to them.Surprisingly no sane person could define what beauty really meant for them.
then sometime back i thought i would go reverse thinking-argue that a beautiful women does not exist and then disprove this btw was a boring technique as i couldn't define my parameters i.e. on what grounds beauty was to be defined-maybe that was the problem everyone were facing.
Leaving beauty to take it's own course- i decided that i would write a poem on a pigeon who earned my anger by laying an egg on bathroom window sill -later i decided that i would send it to the Times of India,the idea was abandoned quite immediately, then i decided that i would publish the same on orkut with all the other rubbish that it usually churns out
Here goes it's tentatively called
OH! PIGEON YOU HAVE NO REASON
Like it was this sunny morning
i never liked saying 'good morning'
it's not as though i hated greetings
and not that i had any important meetings
But the bathroom was surely out of bounds
Even to the fierce smelly hounds
Oh pigeon
you have no reason!
the thing you did
it made me cry (it really did)
Oh pigeon
you have no reason
this is royal treason
in the summer season
Oh pigeon(repeat 2 times, choir music up and fade)
hope you liked the poem
even if you didn't
as if i care
I searched for a mountain
but could see none
I searched for a river but found out that my city was lacking in god's blessings
and finally i looked for beautiful women-lacking in personal experience i thought i would ask people about what beauty meant to them.Surprisingly no sane person could define what beauty really meant for them.
then sometime back i thought i would go reverse thinking-argue that a beautiful women does not exist and then disprove this btw was a boring technique as i couldn't define my parameters i.e. on what grounds beauty was to be defined-maybe that was the problem everyone were facing.
Leaving beauty to take it's own course- i decided that i would write a poem on a pigeon who earned my anger by laying an egg on bathroom window sill -later i decided that i would send it to the Times of India,the idea was abandoned quite immediately, then i decided that i would publish the same on orkut with all the other rubbish that it usually churns out
Here goes it's tentatively called
OH! PIGEON YOU HAVE NO REASON
Like it was this sunny morning
i never liked saying 'good morning'
it's not as though i hated greetings
and not that i had any important meetings
But the bathroom was surely out of bounds
Even to the fierce smelly hounds
Oh pigeon
you have no reason!
the thing you did
it made me cry (it really did)
Oh pigeon
you have no reason
this is royal treason
in the summer season
Oh pigeon(repeat 2 times, choir music up and fade)
hope you liked the poem
even if you didn't
as if i care
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Road goes ever on and on #1
The Road goes ever on and on
I would have to thank Bill Bryson personally for without him this write-up would have never been possible, although I do not know him.
1. Madras
As I sit back thinking on how a travelogue should be structured; I am faced with a very important crisis which I am usually not bothered with- to whom this writing should proceed and how useful they might find it.
For the first time in my life I set out to do something which someone other than the wombats(who can never read) find it useful and believe me, writing a travelogue is just quite as easy as writing nonsense; people in the days to come might find both the same.
I am not a traveler but I should say I have been a tourist or person visiting relatives in various cities, but travel has always excited me and people should necessarily understand the difference between travel and tourism both being completely different the only thing common is that both start with the alphabet t.
My trip would take me to the southern city of Trichy for a cultural event and like all other things in my life; the preparations were done in haste. Truthfully speaking I was very much looking forward to it but two divine interventions called laziness and college delayed my preparations, the latter also delayed my schedule and I had to leave a day later than the originally decided day due to a thing which I am remotely connected called practicals.
I have never enjoyed anything in life which basically deals with drawing four line borders with black pen and two underlines in blue ink and flowers at each corner to please the examining officer and needless to say I learnt very little but like all the other academic activities I did it with a fair share of grumbling, surprisingly the experiment which was concerned about the working of a transformer in different conditions interested me and so I played around me with the circuits which I would avoid otherwise. This I consider as one of the reasons for my tired nature for the rest of the day, then I slept for the rest of the day which I am not supposed to do and the classes continued, the thought of the journey ahead shone like a light at the end of the tunnel somehow the tunnel seemed to extend forever as my college made plans to work for the whole of the weekend and have classes on Sunday-‘ridiculous’ my pig brain said, another villainous part of it schemed my absence on that very day, finally something made me feel happy- I would not attend classes for the next two days and have three days as holidays, the very thought made me come front to the first bench for the math hour; I even made an attempt at solving two dimensional heat equations.
Classes for the day ended as I made my movement to the buses; I was finally going home. The books in my bag (which was predominantly occupied by ‘From Russia with Love’ by Ian Fleming which had a good retro feel to it and pleasurably had the picture of a Russian woman in a ‘not so often seen pose’ and ‘The moor’s last sigh’ by Salman Rushdie a book I am yet to understand and will require all of my cerebral capacity)
Reading through one of the sleazy massage sequences in ‘From Russia with love’ (which occurs in the very early pages of the book –all those James Bond fans out there) I went into the fantasizing mode where I imagined I was (who else) Bond and the operation involved me rescuing a beautiful Russian actress from an oil tanker, the route would be from under the sea while we finally came out of the water(me in swimming trunks showcasing a six-pack abs contrary to all that flab I have in real life and the actress would undress into a smaller version of a bikini, maybe that’s how they celebrate summer up in Russia). The oil tanker would later explode and the Bond theme orchestrated by John Barry played in the background. After all this was imagination and anything could happen, a co-passenger commented that he had never seen me go through my course book with such interest, the boy remembered me of my father’s daily monologue.
I wowed to finish the Bond novel by next week as I comfortably ignored the literary Rushdie as I reached home.
My mind for the next one hour focused on packing, finally I was leaving home.
Satyeki
I would have to thank Bill Bryson personally for without him this write-up would have never been possible, although I do not know him.
1. Madras
As I sit back thinking on how a travelogue should be structured; I am faced with a very important crisis which I am usually not bothered with- to whom this writing should proceed and how useful they might find it.
For the first time in my life I set out to do something which someone other than the wombats(who can never read) find it useful and believe me, writing a travelogue is just quite as easy as writing nonsense; people in the days to come might find both the same.
I am not a traveler but I should say I have been a tourist or person visiting relatives in various cities, but travel has always excited me and people should necessarily understand the difference between travel and tourism both being completely different the only thing common is that both start with the alphabet t.
My trip would take me to the southern city of Trichy for a cultural event and like all other things in my life; the preparations were done in haste. Truthfully speaking I was very much looking forward to it but two divine interventions called laziness and college delayed my preparations, the latter also delayed my schedule and I had to leave a day later than the originally decided day due to a thing which I am remotely connected called practicals.
I have never enjoyed anything in life which basically deals with drawing four line borders with black pen and two underlines in blue ink and flowers at each corner to please the examining officer and needless to say I learnt very little but like all the other academic activities I did it with a fair share of grumbling, surprisingly the experiment which was concerned about the working of a transformer in different conditions interested me and so I played around me with the circuits which I would avoid otherwise. This I consider as one of the reasons for my tired nature for the rest of the day, then I slept for the rest of the day which I am not supposed to do and the classes continued, the thought of the journey ahead shone like a light at the end of the tunnel somehow the tunnel seemed to extend forever as my college made plans to work for the whole of the weekend and have classes on Sunday-‘ridiculous’ my pig brain said, another villainous part of it schemed my absence on that very day, finally something made me feel happy- I would not attend classes for the next two days and have three days as holidays, the very thought made me come front to the first bench for the math hour; I even made an attempt at solving two dimensional heat equations.
Classes for the day ended as I made my movement to the buses; I was finally going home. The books in my bag (which was predominantly occupied by ‘From Russia with Love’ by Ian Fleming which had a good retro feel to it and pleasurably had the picture of a Russian woman in a ‘not so often seen pose’ and ‘The moor’s last sigh’ by Salman Rushdie a book I am yet to understand and will require all of my cerebral capacity)
Reading through one of the sleazy massage sequences in ‘From Russia with love’ (which occurs in the very early pages of the book –all those James Bond fans out there) I went into the fantasizing mode where I imagined I was (who else) Bond and the operation involved me rescuing a beautiful Russian actress from an oil tanker, the route would be from under the sea while we finally came out of the water(me in swimming trunks showcasing a six-pack abs contrary to all that flab I have in real life and the actress would undress into a smaller version of a bikini, maybe that’s how they celebrate summer up in Russia). The oil tanker would later explode and the Bond theme orchestrated by John Barry played in the background. After all this was imagination and anything could happen, a co-passenger commented that he had never seen me go through my course book with such interest, the boy remembered me of my father’s daily monologue.
I wowed to finish the Bond novel by next week as I comfortably ignored the literary Rushdie as I reached home.
My mind for the next one hour focused on packing, finally I was leaving home.
Satyeki
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
My First Quiz
I had been thinking about the things i should be writing in this particular blog but i couldn't find much to write about in the past few days except of one bad quiz which i did for QFI last Sunday.
Believe me it was bad and from the time 'Indian bank' came up as the first slide i realized there were going to be more problems;as you should be knowing a QFI quiz does really demand a certain amount of preparation which was lacking , all i had was a shoddy power-point presentation which insisted on giving the answers before the questions( which i can now fairly say is a tribute to the mind of Derek O Brien who used to conduct these types of rounds at my school) and i could sense the irritation of those who had arrived at P.S.Senior.
I didn't edit my work properly which gave rise to few more errors and my whole quiz of X,Y,A,B,M,N,I was irksome and due to lack of time i had merely pasted random articles from Wiki which didn't quite serve the purpose.
The people probably would have thought it a waste of time, if(ever again in my life i am to do a quiz) i promise a better show.
And i finally thank the members of QFI for being patient of all my ignorance and for not throwing me out. yes this will remain in memory as one bad quiz done.
Satyeki
Believe me it was bad and from the time 'Indian bank' came up as the first slide i realized there were going to be more problems;as you should be knowing a QFI quiz does really demand a certain amount of preparation which was lacking , all i had was a shoddy power-point presentation which insisted on giving the answers before the questions( which i can now fairly say is a tribute to the mind of Derek O Brien who used to conduct these types of rounds at my school) and i could sense the irritation of those who had arrived at P.S.Senior.
I didn't edit my work properly which gave rise to few more errors and my whole quiz of X,Y,A,B,M,N,I was irksome and due to lack of time i had merely pasted random articles from Wiki which didn't quite serve the purpose.
The people probably would have thought it a waste of time, if(ever again in my life i am to do a quiz) i promise a better show.
And i finally thank the members of QFI for being patient of all my ignorance and for not throwing me out. yes this will remain in memory as one bad quiz done.
Satyeki
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Oh Blue Bird!
The Daily Circus is a newspaper; I thought everyone knew that. I had grown reading the daily circus (later in my life I learn that only our family preferred The Daily Circus to The Daily Gooseberry)
I write in shame that we live in a world that has little knowledge of a quality organ of information, I’m not saying anything about The Daily Gooseberry; I just say that it doesn’t deserve to be the leading daily I would even accept The Weekly Vulture which had a special column on the changing geology of the earth but not the Daily Gooseberry, something in the Gooseberry made me feel sick.
I made my way to The Society on one Sunday afternoon, I carried with me the anguish and sense of failure I had had always on Sunday afternoons, especially when I read the Sunday Gooseberry, they had beaten me to one more news break. Not that my editor bothered much about deadlines we were still covering Watergate but there was always a personal loss and my fellow reporters always got the best of me, they even called leading celebrities by their nickname, I could saw now that with certain degree of frankness that I was quite jealous of these people.
The Society had always existed, and it always changed. Terry Idle was sitting on a wooden bench in one of the corners. Terry Idle was the only one whom I knew in the society, the poet was sitting looking up at the sky and then he began to sing
“Oh how high you fly blue bird
How about a small word
It would as white as curd
What do you say blue bird?”
There was no bird of course even if there had been it would cared much, but I thought it was quite a good poem, I could appreciate it even in one of sad moods.
Words come naturally to Idle, words just flow into his head out of his mouth like a…like a gush of industrial waste into the river. No I don’t think that was a good imagery.
“Terry why don’t you send these things to the press they might put out collections of poems?”
He noticed me for the first time that evening
“Oh how are you mister scribe?
You may have heard of the bribe
It’s not good for our tribe
And I do not like what you prescribe”
Terry published only when he thought that it was utmost necessary for instance for the next meal; and surprisingly he would get his money out of nowhere, seeing my distress Terry went into one his creative outbursts which I will write in the days to come, maybe I am quite dim or the whole concept of intellect itself is very relative.
Satyeki
I write in shame that we live in a world that has little knowledge of a quality organ of information, I’m not saying anything about The Daily Gooseberry; I just say that it doesn’t deserve to be the leading daily I would even accept The Weekly Vulture which had a special column on the changing geology of the earth but not the Daily Gooseberry, something in the Gooseberry made me feel sick.
I made my way to The Society on one Sunday afternoon, I carried with me the anguish and sense of failure I had had always on Sunday afternoons, especially when I read the Sunday Gooseberry, they had beaten me to one more news break. Not that my editor bothered much about deadlines we were still covering Watergate but there was always a personal loss and my fellow reporters always got the best of me, they even called leading celebrities by their nickname, I could saw now that with certain degree of frankness that I was quite jealous of these people.
The Society had always existed, and it always changed. Terry Idle was sitting on a wooden bench in one of the corners. Terry Idle was the only one whom I knew in the society, the poet was sitting looking up at the sky and then he began to sing
“Oh how high you fly blue bird
How about a small word
It would as white as curd
What do you say blue bird?”
There was no bird of course even if there had been it would cared much, but I thought it was quite a good poem, I could appreciate it even in one of sad moods.
Words come naturally to Idle, words just flow into his head out of his mouth like a…like a gush of industrial waste into the river. No I don’t think that was a good imagery.
“Terry why don’t you send these things to the press they might put out collections of poems?”
He noticed me for the first time that evening
“Oh how are you mister scribe?
You may have heard of the bribe
It’s not good for our tribe
And I do not like what you prescribe”
Terry published only when he thought that it was utmost necessary for instance for the next meal; and surprisingly he would get his money out of nowhere, seeing my distress Terry went into one his creative outbursts which I will write in the days to come, maybe I am quite dim or the whole concept of intellect itself is very relative.
Satyeki
Friday, September 5, 2008
A SORT OF DARKNESS
Lazeroid is a portmanteau word; not that it helps in the further proceedings of this space story, but I will not tell you what two words make up the Lazeroid as it is not possible to write what Lazeroid are physically made so why bother of what they are composed of verbally.
But that was a fact that I did come across during my preparations for the examinations held by Society of International Literary Politics (SLIP, yes I know it should have been SILP but since the founder was slightly dyslexic SLIP stuck on). SLIP is one old organization or so they tell me at the regional office while I wait among millions who like me want to be recognized as the member of SLIP.
I don’t know how old SLIP is, but in one of those heavy leather bound ledger tucked away into one of the corner rooms of the SLIP building New New York (NNY, a completely new city built some miles from NY, the maps look very similar and so do the tourist spots which confused millions of people visiting NNY, but people still acknowledge the presence of these two sister cities) I found GOD as one of the permanent members of SLIP.
Since God is the oldest thing ever to have known to man apart from the wheel and fire, God still becomes the most controversial and exciting thing to have been accepted (say some) or discovered (say others) but the followers of these two theories suffered a major shot when they came to know about this; many argue that the word GOD could have been an addition by one of the pious founding members of SLIP but the idea was immediately rejected as there were no pious founding members.
The examinations held by the SLIP foundation were heavily criticized by The Daily Circus a newspaper I work with; not that it is much of a lucrative career but it does pass the time. Time again is a difficult concept to explain, the other day while we at the SLIP preparations club meeting decided to have time as the theme of debate and all of us learned men and heavily learned women could not give quite a comprehensive picture about the whole thing called time, so we said ‘Time’s up Gentlemen; pick up your hats and we have time to pass’. Though the above anecdote might not be funny for all those who enjoy reading rubbish things on the internet but for a lady living in the inner depths of the African jungle wrote to me quite formally stating that she was rolling over the only table she had at her native home in Zimbabwe and that she could never write without staggering as she always remembered the incident. Below the lady also stated that she very well knew the concept of time and had seen God in his earlier years and other things which would help us explain the mystery of the lazeroids.
The letter changed my life forever and I set out for what was once called the Dark Continent; along with me came two funny looking gentlemen and the daughter of one of them; whose daughter they would not say and I never dared to ask because one of them had mastered the art of throwing daggers on fellow passengers, the girl insisted on bringing a rare duck billed platypus but both the funny looking men refused so she had to bring a blue dolphin instead which was later let into the oceans.
And now begins the journey of our lifetime.
Unfortunately….to continue.
Satyeki
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The Daily Alien#2
Bus rides terrify me, among other things I always have a feeling of riding on thin air especially after my exposure to the magnificent feats that my college bus performs; I would have been a happy and innocent audience to this specific spectacle only if I were not to be involved in it.
Usually they pass without any special moment, the same road-less path and the usual bit of gibberish one tends to overhear during these uninspiring travels. For a person who knows me in and out will recognize the in-born arrogance and intolerance involved in writing this piece. Traveling to college is like fighting in a hand to hand combat with German soldiers in the grip of world war two. We are not directly involved but still it’s a war.
Sometimes I wonder why should I travel this far for my studies; both of them provide me with very little to think about or to even know about, so I come up with this ingenious plan which might change the course of my life forever- reading.
It also serves as the perfect conversation stopper, nobody bothers the reading boy! And I do not wish to indulge in some of the most irritating and boring conversations at least not at this time of my life, I do not also wish to say that I am more wise than the chaps having conversation about the love life of an actress right in the morning (though it may be a very interesting topic later in the evening; nevertheless it is tiring to listen or contribute to film gossip).
Or it is the academics to which I have no clue or the inclination to discuss z-transformations in the rickety old bus of ours.
I came to conclusion that either it was not deserving to have a conversation or am not fit enough to fit into other people’s conversational places, maybe I was just a hot headed idiot I don’t care. Books provide the best distraction and I imagine all these scenes come alive, this is such a gift you can never get out from socializing; personally these are things that make reading so enjoyable. The other day I had the whole of shire before my eyes and the next day it was the old forest and the next it was an alleyway in busy
Where would I search for amusement without all these people?
Not Saileonagar for sure
Satyeki
Friday, August 15, 2008
IT'S THAT TIME OF THE YEAR AGAIN
Somebody with a microphone echoed that ‘today is august 15, the
August 15 has always been a bright and good memory in my life at least I could say that confidently for the past four years, the day had me attending one of the greatest quizzes in the country-The Landmark Open quiz this time brought to us by Sony Play station.
And the best place such an event can happen is the
Quizzing as we all know (or those who are closely associated with it might) has actively existed amidst all other things and open quizzes are a major draw in the city and this time was no exception. Personally for me Quizzing has been that outlet which has given me something serious to work about and contributing to the fun part as well. It’s not as if you feel bad after losing a quiz, in a quiz that never matters although you would want to with that entire prize at stake. Participation itself is a major achievement and a good memory which I will treasure and narrate to my children or to those of my neighbor (in the case of me not getting married). You always learn something from a quiz, or to put in better terms you, are a quiz older than the previous one, each contributing towards what people have always believed: in knowing.
My humble opinion being that this is one of the best activities to have invented by that brain of man- making knowing interesting, philosophy apart the afternoon saw us taking a forty question prelims (no I wouldn’t tell you our score, but one of the best prelims in recent times) compiled by the beloved quiz-master Dr. Navin Jaykumar and Gautam Padmanabhan. These people have been doing the quiz for the past fifteen years which is an achievement onto itself.
Eight behemoth teams made it to the city finals (we had a national finals this year!!!) competing against each other for the top two spot as questions ranged from geography to IT all engaging in their own way brought to us by Dr. Navin in the best of his wit, QED (V.V.Ramanan,Samanth,Jayakanthan) the city favorites and super quizzers clinched the city title while the team Singh may be king but Iyer is higher(yes, this one them the best team name prize, a first of it’s kind in landmark history) made up by Vinod Ganesh, Ramkumar and Krishnamurthy came second after a series of great and seriously funny answers. The city finals also saw teams from
This year Landmark (the city’s most visited and loved bookstore) decided to take the already successful Landmark Open Quiz national, so they call up the other state finalists to have one of the most (searching for words, but settles for excited) exciting finals ever put together, the winners from Pune and Banagalore joined the top two from Chennai, QED took the earlier lead but were closely followed by the team comprising of S.P.Rajan, Swami and Gopal who were the Bangalore winners.
It would be a great gesture if I could put up the questions but this is not a quiz blog and I chose not to.
The winners weren’t decided until the last round as QED battled to gain glory but only to come second after some (again searching for words, settle for brilliance) brilliant answers by Swami which made the national winners. Singh may be king…came a good third. Overall a great evening and much was learnt, I hope Landmark Open Quiz continues forever and kudos to the winners. Thank you Landmark for yet another (searching for words yet again, part of brain suggest that I read a good dictionary for adjectives) great day.
Satyeki
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
THE LAZEROIDS FROM OUTER SPACE
Into the darkness of the expanding universe, the man stared as he watched the numerous funny looking things go by, back at home their were called flying saucers owing to their resemblance of the insignificant things which humans place below their tea/coffee cups but this was the last thing that would come to the stagnant brain of the man.
He had already seen too much and was willing to return to planet Geo (once called Earth but then when the neo-humans found the name too unfashionable they decided to call Earth just Geo a relatively simpler name and could be well related to by each and every one of the planet. The other suggested name was- the foster planet of Superman, which was rejected at the international convention of the Earth Renaming Commission on the basis that the chairman of the committee was dead against comic books and believed that if something could inhabit the earth it would only be the foolish humans, later he was killed in the middle of metropolis square by an unknown man in a red cape and blue underwear. The case was never solved.
As I said he had seen enough already to think about any other thing as he saw these peaceful things pass by in complete silence beautiful creatures as these were in the feminine color of pink as they moved smoothly over the limitless universe.
They were simply called the things in pink to avoid confusion, for the interested reader these were the fat bottomed pink Lazeroids as listed in the Universe Gazette, peaceful things which once in a while came to planet to Geo for their annual fest called the fat bottomed fest.
They did find it funny that humans still didn’t believe in extra-Geo creatures, for they had lived in and out of Geo for years and years as they could trace back in their notebooks of history, Old Duncan the second, as expected a pink Lazeroid fell in love with planet Geo (when it was still called earth) and wanted to stay the rest of his lifetime on the green planet, the humans didn’t know a thing; he became one of them that even became the deputy president of a super power and married a super model twice and had eighteen children from marriage or otherwise. This might sound like some fairy tale possibly it is, but mind you it might be true , our whole conception of what we know best is about change.
The man still watched as the Lazeroids made their way into Geo’s centimeter thick atmosphere (the scientists still publicized that they had very little of the atmosphere left and that was why they were still living, meanwhile millions of galaxies away things had grown by eating plastic and red rocks and had never bother about the thing which we call air)
One of the Lazeroids, finally looked at the man, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he wondered if it was from the opposite sex meaning a woman, but the Lazeroid were far more complex than the neo-humans in gender issues, you could never guess the state of a Lazeroid unless you had read “the big book of Lazeroids and allied races far from the prying eyes of satellites”. The book however was no longer available.
It looked at him (it because we don’t know for sure) and asked “Could you guide us to the Empire state building please?”
The man swallowed and said in a tone which could only be heard by the meekest of rodents on planet Geo.
“Um..yes..ok”
Satyeki
The above article was written when the author was still in good mental and physical health (though his doctor still debates the condition of his patient, the author himself is quite confident of his sanity)
Sunday, August 10, 2008
THE BORING SUNDAY
Sunday always begins with Saturday, I mean if you could consider that as an intellectual statement but then it is true in my case. Today, the day being Sunday began with Saturday with a good natured friend of mine calling in the dead of the night to know about my status whether I would attend a newly released movie on the following morning.
It’s been a quality of mine to pick wrong things, right from childhood as I recount many instances of my stupidity which continue to even today including the above mentioned day.
The movie of course was the Mummy 3: the tomb of the dragon emperor, one of the questions I ask myself after I come out of the plush theatre on
The answer is yes as I found out after small amounts of time say dt. The Mummy series have never inspired me, of for that matter I don’t think it has made of much of an impact on any of the movie going audiences say for except the Rachael Weiz loving public or those interested in cheap thrills (pardon me if you place Mummy along with The Return of the King on your top 10 movies list, this review is not for you)
The movie begins with Emperor Han (Jet Li, wasted) searching for the thing all foolish villains have been doing in our movies since the movies were born- the search for immortality and so he asks his general Ming and a witch who proves to be immortal (Michelle Yeoh) to help in his quest, when he does achieve it, he kills his general and wants the witch but then she curses her to turn to funny looking terracotta for the next 2000 years until our man Brendon Fraser who is by now retired and tired than the prequels is ultimately tired of his retirement and his (really boring son Luke Ford ) who drops out of college to become something of an archaeologist in china where he knows more than his scheming professor(more boring stuff ), he ultimately does what everyone in the audience know he will do –find the tomb of the boring emperor who comes to life with the help of a eggish-thing called stone or whatever of Shangri-la (the pass is portrayed as a small heaven on earth)
Family meets son and to be girl-friend, car chase, fireworks, machine guns, terracotta horses coming to life and breathing fire, Jet Li shouting most of the time, more gun shots, a couple of yeti’s who act as railway porters, rehash sequences of lord of the rings, one old couple kissing, dead people rising, more shouting, movie ends happily mummy goes into sand.
Extensively concentrating on
The Verdict: watch it only if you want to relax and not concentrate on what is running on the screens, go on enjoy the push-back chairs and butter popcorn, you would be surprised that you never missed a thing.
Satyeki
Saturday, August 2, 2008
INTO THE NIGHT, WITH THE ICE-CREAM
I have just found out that whenever I begin writing, it usually begins with the word ‘It’, I do not assume to have a soft corner for the word but reading through all the unwanted things I have written till now usually begin with it, for example ‘it was unlike every other unlike day’ or ‘it is not everyday you wake up and say in a loud voice ‘Welcome to the Borneo International Airport’
Such was the case when I ditched the word for good and have made a positive start towards myself thereby stating the English equivalent I.
Being positive really matters take for instance the numerous film publicity function that I force my family to watch in the middle of an ongoing feud, comes up the director “This is a different movie with an X-feel to it also encompassing the Y elements along with the unusual fights at the local harbor, three songs shot in the highest of the mountains found in South America, in fact our crew is the first in the world to have shot in locations like Nauru, Seirra Leone and other forgettable locations in Africa and the south east which are not even found on the Unbelievable guide to Unbelievable world , nevertheless we have also incorporated the mother-sentiment along with all this” this is what I would call positive attitude or should I say height of it, suddenly from somewhere the microphone would find it’s way to the heroine who would look pale as was the case with most heroine who thought it is quite fashionable to look pale and say “I play a bubbly character in this movie and this whole set was like my family we had a ball…” can someone explain to me what in the world bubbly is? It’s been the most used word according to the Debutante’s Guide to the ever evolving World of Bullshit Cinema.
Totally giving up on what would other normal human beings call ‘world friendship day’ , I sat down to watch what would be one of the most memorable moments of the life I have yet lived. Annie Hall, undoubtedly the most thought invoking seriously funny movie by the New York loving genius Woody Allen, if someone asks me (which I am sure no sane person who stands in the really red hot sun before a poster shadowed theatre to buy first day tickets for ‘Kuselan’ would do) on what movie should I watch to get a taste of what life really is. But then leave it, everybody have the right to have their own opinion and I am not here to force myself onto any person
Moving on after a good one hour of the movie and for the fact that I had been let alone for the day and that goddess Earth couldn’t provide me with natural food, I churned up a plan to all up everyone I knew for dinner, as all man-made plans this one too failed.
As usual I was left to myself singing 80’s hits to myself in a loud voice so that I could convince myself that I could to a mutilated Xerox copy version of SPB’s ‘Idhu oru pon maalai pozhudu’
I walked, to the nearest of a popular multi chain restaurant and was involved in one of the boring activities called eating, it’s really a sin to eat alone, a sleazy news article on how a particular actress had caught herself in the web of revealing videos caught both my eyes and my hands followed in quick succession what was next to follow were a few fun filled minutes at the local new agency, I was still alone and nothing to do and the whole of night before me, and then God said “Have an ice-cream”, I obeyed to the voice without further question on what flavor it should be, the vendor already knew chocolate.
Satisfaction, the ice cream kept me company on the return journey, it has been the most interesting thing that has kept me company, all through the walk it said nothing when I asked about how you feel when you melt, poor thing.
But then we all melt, at some point of time, I am just trying to be ‘the dejected poet’ in suggesting such things but then ‘the dejected poet who writes about the hope to come’ image doesn’t suit me one bit. ‘The failed comic having a second helping’ would describe me perfect.
There is still to come, I am waiting with the ice-cream into the night.
Satyeki
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Concerning Personal Disabilities
It’s not everyday that you realize that you have a defect, although it may happen as in the case of my life, I have discovered 66 of them and the most recent of them could spell doom. I just realized that I could be dyslexic; it is a learning disability by the way.
I was shocked, even though I have known that I should be associated with more disabilities than abilities, but dyslexia was like the old cherry on the five rupee chocolate cake.
It was a thought I had been giving a thought in recent times owing to my over dependence on the spelling check and grammar option in good old word, in other words I don’t use any other software other than those which provide me with this advantage, a thing which I have been hiding from all those I know.
My spellings are worse, always do the swap between the i’s and the e’s and a whole lot of other bloody words which are difficult to write, this might be a case to reckon with if I am considering dyslexia.
Things got better when I did an online search on the subject, I was not entirely dyslexic as I thought I would be, it would have been better if I had been in the first case I could blame all my academic failures on poor dyslexia.
A quick reading ensured that I was more prone to typo error than others which are closely related to a disorder called dysgraphia which deals with spellings verbal and otherwise.
As I said it’s not everyday you discover that something is horribly wrong with you, but no big deal I can very well just get on with it, as I see all those around me with more exponential difficulties pulling their cart I haven’t even begun at the wheel.
As Bilbo Baggins once said, there is only one road and it goes on forever, long live Tolkien and all those who read the lord of the rings on their way to college everyday.
Satyeki
Friday, July 25, 2008
O Sheep, Don't Weep
There's an animal which looks as if it is ever asleep
It is you O Sheep!!!
Not that i should tell you that you are my imagery
But then i am not in the mood for verbal surgery
And when you loose your skin
It's not as though you feel for your kith and kin
It's nothing after all,
but you provide for all
How ungratefull we men are
Not realising that you can never utter "Hello Saar"
They say Mary once had a little lamb
as significant as the Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb
But i am anot sure if you are the same Mary,
and we are quite sure that British names vary
But we all are you O sheep
for we do no think even before the sleep
We do what we are told to
Not realising where we are going to
O sheep you have no brains
and you don't do much during the rains
It's not that i want to say much
in fact i cannot say much
as such
it is very difficult to rhyme with such
O sheep, if you could only write a poem
your people might even sing it like an anthem
you may be equalled to the intellect of man
But i am sure you can
But why should this idiot write about sheep
dreaming and counting losing sleep
I do not care what the world thinks
I am quite certain a good half of it never thinks
One more line and i would have written my longest lyric
but then my eyes look choleric
As time passes minute after
i wish i could say 'So long and there's nothing much i could alter'
Rhyming i think is a difficult process
Maybe it was too for Moses
The more i write O sheep
the water below my brain should seep
There is nothing i can say more about
O sheep,
Don't weep
(line left vacant for inspiration to strike)
Intermittently the poem will be titled O Sheep ,Don't Weep
Satyeki
It is you O Sheep!!!
Not that i should tell you that you are my imagery
But then i am not in the mood for verbal surgery
And when you loose your skin
It's not as though you feel for your kith and kin
It's nothing after all,
but you provide for all
How ungratefull we men are
Not realising that you can never utter "Hello Saar"
They say Mary once had a little lamb
as significant as the Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb
But i am anot sure if you are the same Mary,
and we are quite sure that British names vary
But we all are you O sheep
for we do no think even before the sleep
We do what we are told to
Not realising where we are going to
O sheep you have no brains
and you don't do much during the rains
It's not that i want to say much
in fact i cannot say much
as such
it is very difficult to rhyme with such
O sheep, if you could only write a poem
your people might even sing it like an anthem
you may be equalled to the intellect of man
But i am sure you can
But why should this idiot write about sheep
dreaming and counting losing sleep
I do not care what the world thinks
I am quite certain a good half of it never thinks
One more line and i would have written my longest lyric
but then my eyes look choleric
As time passes minute after
i wish i could say 'So long and there's nothing much i could alter'
Rhyming i think is a difficult process
Maybe it was too for Moses
The more i write O sheep
the water below my brain should seep
There is nothing i can say more about
O sheep,
Don't weep
(line left vacant for inspiration to strike)
Intermittently the poem will be titled O Sheep ,Don't Weep
Satyeki
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Silly Clinic
Sir Tom was sleepy after school,that kind of thing usually happens given the things people encounter in such a heavenly place
and finally when Sir Tom got home more than once he felt that something was wrong him, the year was 2001 and he was still in eighth standard for the eight year, which in his family was like being in one of the moons of saturn for more than a moment, not that they were much informed about the astronomical advancements over the century,
they were in fact the most ordinary family in the whole of Madras and the rest of the discovered and exlporable universe
the greatest achievement was by Sir Tom himself ; the thing being that he overstayed in the same class for almost a decade, not that he liked the teacher so much but because he just didn't want to proceed to the next class..
"We must take Tom to that clinic" said his mother, and as bad things always happen before the good things he was dragged to some unlocated place in saidapet which on Google earth will resemble 1/67 th the size of the mole on robert deniro's cheek
It was the Silly Clinic,
Welcome to the Silly Clinic said a red board with red lettering which was one of the major causes why people forgot the existence of such a wonder.
Could we have an appointment said the mother in her usually motherish tone,
the nurse did not reply
she had never replied in her whole career for no reason
Sir Tom looked up at the leaking ceiling, it was leaking obviously the leaking ceiling had to leak.
"Mother the ceiling is leaking" he said in 'the world is coming to an end' tone, his mother said nothing but just slapped the eighteen year old in front of the forty year old nurse as the sixty year old doctor had just opened his door to take a look at the leak, co-incidence
he had found his man
this was the silly clinic after all,
"Will my son pass this year at least?" the mother asked to the doctor who stood at the leaking alleyway under the leaking ceiling, it was a tough question, he had never passed an examination but then he was happy, always happy a certain gift only bestowed to the mad men and to innocent births on this green land of ours, he adjusted his thick framed glasses and simply said
"All things must pass" and went into the noisy world in search of god and a plumber to seal the ceiling.
Satyeki
and finally when Sir Tom got home more than once he felt that something was wrong him, the year was 2001 and he was still in eighth standard for the eight year, which in his family was like being in one of the moons of saturn for more than a moment, not that they were much informed about the astronomical advancements over the century,
they were in fact the most ordinary family in the whole of Madras and the rest of the discovered and exlporable universe
the greatest achievement was by Sir Tom himself ; the thing being that he overstayed in the same class for almost a decade, not that he liked the teacher so much but because he just didn't want to proceed to the next class..
"We must take Tom to that clinic" said his mother, and as bad things always happen before the good things he was dragged to some unlocated place in saidapet which on Google earth will resemble 1/67 th the size of the mole on robert deniro's cheek
It was the Silly Clinic,
Welcome to the Silly Clinic said a red board with red lettering which was one of the major causes why people forgot the existence of such a wonder.
Could we have an appointment said the mother in her usually motherish tone,
the nurse did not reply
she had never replied in her whole career for no reason
Sir Tom looked up at the leaking ceiling, it was leaking obviously the leaking ceiling had to leak.
"Mother the ceiling is leaking" he said in 'the world is coming to an end' tone, his mother said nothing but just slapped the eighteen year old in front of the forty year old nurse as the sixty year old doctor had just opened his door to take a look at the leak, co-incidence
he had found his man
this was the silly clinic after all,
"Will my son pass this year at least?" the mother asked to the doctor who stood at the leaking alleyway under the leaking ceiling, it was a tough question, he had never passed an examination but then he was happy, always happy a certain gift only bestowed to the mad men and to innocent births on this green land of ours, he adjusted his thick framed glasses and simply said
"All things must pass" and went into the noisy world in search of god and a plumber to seal the ceiling.
Satyeki
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