Saunter Into Singledom

There are few events that can be described as transformational, metamorphosizing, or any of those damn superlatives you can find in the good old copy of the Merriam Webster’s dictionary. Only time will tell whether I lived up to the worth of the adjectives mentioned above, but one thing is certain, I am on the cusp of a major change in my life. Thanks my dear friends for triggering the second chapter of my stint in Hyderabad, and in all likelihood the last few months of my bachelor life. 

It would have been a rather easy choice to skim the multitude of mails I get daily on the hyd-spam mail list and as I scan the roster, I would find scores of young Amazonians looking for roommates to share the burden of their expenses borne by living in a metropolitan city. But instead I chose to ignore each one of the mails and decided to saunter into singledom. It are new experiences that shape one’s life and I hope this experience of living all by myself for the 1^st time in my life at the age of 27, will truly be a remarkable and soul searching one.

I am not the kind of person who going by appearances makes X say to Y “There goes Nikhil – pretty tough egg. There are no limits to his go-getter spirit. He will dig up the sun from the east if it refuses to rise”. But my dear friends the day 3 months back exactly to this day when you decided to severe off our relationship permanently will always be etched on my memory. For a second the world lost all its light. But as the days wore on, my final appeal climbing down the throne of ego, to you to reconsider our good old days, let bygones be bygones and start life afresh, and even apologizing for the communication gap which had arisen for whatever reasons, bore no fruit, and you unceremoniously hammered the final nail into our ties of friendship. 

Your words caused me immense pain as they went down like a dagger right thru my heart. But my friends, today 3 months exactly later as I sit typing this on my laptop on the 1^st night in my new house, with New York Nagaram song fittingly playing on the background, I thank you from the bottom of my heart because but for what you have done to me, my blood would not have became thicker and skin more tougher in each of the last 90 days leading up to the final seperation. Today however Sisyphean the endeavour may seem, I know I will have the capacity to summon up the blood, stiffen the sinews and prepare myself to face the ordeal.

You may wonder why I keep saying friends, when you severed off everything and ensured that right now to forever for the rest of our lives the equation between us has in reality gone from friends to mere acquaintances. That is because I choose to sieve out the events that transpired in the last 90 days and pick the great memories we have from our 2 year MBA stint in IIFT where my mind keeps dwelling on constantly. From now even if you regret and wish to turn back the clock, the wounds to the heart you have caused can never be completely ameliorated for enough damage has been done and there is no further repair work that can be done to heal them. With this I conclude and hope to start my second stint in Hyderabad, alone and I love it.

The Small Screen Phenomenon

Disclaimer: This piece is written in an overtly casual and light hearted fashion. Not meant to disrespect hundreds of lesser known artistes who make their living by plying their trade on the small screen. The only other section of the populace who may get offended, I feel, are housewives/homemakers whom I hold in the highest regard. I apologize beforehand, just in case they start resorting to pelting stones and hurling brickbats (Including esteemed and loved members of my own family). Again I reiterate this is written with the intent of being absorbed in the right spirit of good humour.
 

A lady in a bright red Saree seated in an Audi car reaches her destination’s end, a magnificent bungalow that is built on a foundation of tons of black money, near the beach around 30 miles from Chennai on the East Coast Road.  The living image of the watchman of the guesthouse even as he sights the rounding up of the car round the corner, metamorphosizes from an object of stupor into a gymnast who has just taken a strong dosage of performance enhancing drug prior to an Olympic event. As the car screeches to a halt, the watchman jerks into a fit of spasm and makes a near leap towards the car and opens the door and the lady in red alights. What follows is a picture of bourgeois servility that is not uncommon to be taken to the lowest common denominator in Tamilnadu. What I mean is a salute. The hand movement that has become almost a voluntary limb action, commanded by the grey cells of his Medulla Oblongata to move to the forehead to execute a salute followed by the words ‘Vanakkam Madam’.

Coming to the lady herself, the mere sight of her is calculated to send shivers down the spine of the average human being. She sports a dangerously long bright red Bindi and is adorned with jewels from top to bottom as we see models in jewellery ads. She whips up her phone and calls a local politician and delivers the execution order – ‘Avana mudichurunga’ (Translated as Finish him off) to which he replies ‘Ok madam. Namma pasangala vittu avana potu thalitu ungalukku phone panren’ (Ill tell my lads to do it and confirm you).

Hmm a common scene from a Tamil serial.

Now take a look at this. 

A tear jerking music plays in the background, a lower middle class old widowed lady is lying on a bed in hospital and is surrounded by her 2 daughters – A 24 year old married to a wicked treacherous guy and a 19-year old daughter who goes to college, and a couple of neighbours. The reason the setting of this scene is in the premises of a hospital is because, the old lady passed out after an ugly scene at her home. To further give a birds eye view to this rather unfortunate set of circumstances is the promise made by the old lady to pay Rs 10 Lac dowry to her first daughter’s husband at the time of her marriage within 2 years. What has happened in the interim I am unable to fathom and say.

Let’s say the events that are happening as I narrate was screened in Episode # 456 on 10^th of August, 2016 and the terrible oath taken by the old lady was in Episode # 221 on 29^th of November, 2015, the author is at a loss himself unfortunately not in a position to discern with certitude the exact nature of events that transpired in the massive expanse of time that has lapsed that led to the position where the lady is unable to pay off the dowry as promised. But thankfully we have the tool at disposal to retrieve the lost information, the walking encyclopedia of the small screens, the living Google of Tamil sitcoms – Grandmothers! All I need to say is ‘Patti, the last I saw the family was in a well of position, why is that they have landed up in abject poverty’. It takes 5 mins of innocent explanation from my granny to get the crux of whatever has lapsed in the interim 230 episodes, and I realize there has not been any palpable difference to the entire storyline at all!

Anyway back to the hospital, the scene is one of over drama and over acting, where the old lady who is back to her senses, laments there is no hope in life, God loves to see good people suffer and cries how she is going to get her younger daughter married. A couple of sympathetic neighbours donning the garb of living incarnations of Dale Carnegie start reeling out motivational dialogues to ease the apprehension, while cautioning if the brake on self applied stress is not applied, health issues will worsen leading to every penny being squeezed out of the doctor's stethoscope. Meanwhile the tone of the background score becomes even more melodramatic and the hues of melancholy pick up briskly trying its level best to infuse pathos in its audience. And it doesn’t fail. As I catch my grandmother sniffing despondently into her Saree and a tear pearl falls of her eye, I have no option to rebuke her to stop crying for God’s sake as its reel and not happening in real life! It is at times like my father who has been anti-serials all his life further rubs salt into the wounds of my grandmother by saying – ‘Amma! This is an insult to the intelligence. How many times have I told you to stop watching these pathetic serials? You are incorrigible’

Then there are happier moments. This is when you catch the feminine piece of the audience at its best. A girl who has been getting the bird from multiple prospective grooms finally breaking the shackles set by fate and ends up getting married, a long standing dispute between a mother and daughter in law getting finally resolved, or a son from a respectable family who fell into bad company after learning life lessons the hard way curls up like a lost lamb back into its herd and is welcomed back into the fold by a forgiving father. 

These are moments where the infectiousness of joy is palpable and what happens inside the TV screen catalyzes the environs of the home. I call them 'Capsules of Joy'. Typical housewives who spend a lifetime cursing their fate are temporarily given a new lease of life – their mood dramatically changes and dinner time arguments with spouses are turned into an affair of lovebirds, men on their part shocked by the sudden change resolve to make hay while the sun shines, unwilling to deep dive into the root cause for the inexplicable behavioural change in their better halves. Personally for me these are the ideal moments as an observing bystander, as I catch MOM-IN-LAW – DAUGHTER-IN-LAW interactions at their effervescent best. Conversations on the storyline suddenly change track and move as follows, translated from Tamil.

Grandmother: Such a beautiful saree Ramya (The female protagonist on the screen) is wearing. A deep turquoise blue saree with shades of maroon and magenta.

Mother: Exactly Amma, and look at that bright pink border! I’d die to get one such saree.

Grandmother (with yearning look in her eyes): Please buy me one Kanamma, will you?

Mother: Why not mother? Let us go for shopping this Saturday and buy sarees from Nalli, I heard there is a festive sale going on.

Meanwhile, the scene on the TV shifts to the main hall where Ramya being a dutiful daughter makes a cup of strong coffee for her father, who has just finished forgiving his son Saravanan after the latter apologized (as mentioned above) for going astray the last few weeks.

Mother: I wonder how their house is maintained so clean, all the time the women are either fighting or chatting

Grandmother: Yes Amma, I have always been wondering the same all the time!

To the neutral bystander ‘Love Feast’ is the word that springs to the mind.

But taking a backseat and trying to understand this further I dont really get to the bottom of why Indian sitcoms have ruled small television like the way they have. I need deeper contemplation to get to the root cause of it which i will unravel in due course of time. But it is a safe bet to say sitcoms have become inexplicably intertwined with the lives of Indian people. Good or bad they continue to exist with us and will continue to rule Indian middle class households for aeons to come.

For Men May come and Men may go, Tamil sitcoms, nay, Indian Sitcoms go on forever.

 - - To be continued - -

Waiting for the next episode of Thendral or Alaigal or whatever be the damn serial, I am going to get to see with grandma, when I go home next, and hopefully I can add a funny tale to these memoirs :)

Kabali – A Review Shooting Straight from the Heart

I enjoyed two viewings of the latest Kollywood Blockbuster ‘Kabali’ - FDFS and SDSS (acronyms for "First Day First Show" and "Second Day Second Show"). FDFS is understandable for having been a hardcore Die-hard Rajini fan all my life, I caught a late night flight from Hyderabad to see it with friends in a theater of absolutely electrifying and festival-like atmosphere in Chennai which stands unparalleled in this aspect to anywhere else in the world! But you may wonder why the second viewing? And my answer is - it was absolutely "sine qua non" to drown out the noise and hoopla that messes with your judgment on the first viewing, esp. for a Rajini (or Thalaivar as he is referred to by the Tamil masses) movie of this "hype magnitude"!

Now coming to the review itself. Being a Thalaivar film watcher from the 1990’s which became an obsession from the 2000’s became, I have been fortunate to see the progression of a Superstar into a Godlike persona of gargantuan magnitude. I have seen Thalaivar movies of different genres and classifications. From a broad-brush split of mass and class (mass being Baatcha, Padayappa, Sivaji and the likes) and class being Johnny, Mullum Malarum, Thillu Mullu, etc.) Kabali falls exactly in the middle! This should be deemed a directorial triumph on the part of rookie-director Pa. Ranjith to create a movie that while being classy for the most part also superbly caters to the mass instinct, appeal and larger-than-life persona of Thalaivar to his billion fans. The movie seems to have been staged with calibrated precision to extract the best out of the Super Star! I find that many critics have rushed into critiquing this movie after one viewing. I urge them to view it again because the second viewing will help, as it helped me unravel the following. 

1. That Pa. Ranjith is an extremely shrewd young story-teller who actually stages his major scenes especially the songs and action sequences with unbelievable visual precision. Each of the action sequences starting from the fiery Kabali just out of Jail pulverizing the Tony Lee underling to the climax action sequence when Thalaivar walks away with a Kalashnikov on his shoulder on top of the Roof-top restaurant with Petronas Towers and a sea of sky-scrapers providing a stunning background have been staged in precision - with a clear beginning, middle and end. Not a minute more, not a minute less! These action sequences are just precisely controlled. This is as it should be in a classy gangster action movie. So the complaint has been what about the intervening drama build-up that seems to lag? Don't they create a ‘start, stop and start again’ feeling one maybe disposed to ask? Well, to me, it appears that Ranjith wanted it exactly that way! He has carefully infused those drama moments to show the softer, humane side of Thalaivar and the winner in each of these scenes if of course the Superstar himself. When is the last time we saw Thalaivar emoting with his eyes as much as he did in Kabali? The longing, the yearning, the love, the angst, and many of the softer emotions have come flowing thru his eyes and the little inflections have a tremor like impact! The net effect of such softer sequences is the enhanced and brutal impact of the brilliantly choreographed action sequences that come and go in staccato bursts! 

2. The surge of characters and their exact contributions to the movie - I can assure that my second viewing greatly helped in this respect - I realized that each of these characters, while seemingly plentiful, has been brilliantly thought-out and well fleshed-out as well. Take for example, the guy who receives Thalaivar and his daughter from Chennai airport - here is a guy who actually gets involved in the Kabali drama to the extent that he almost loses his life in that hair-rising action sequence in the Pondy guesthouse! The actor who did it is simply brilliant! 

3. The third and most important revelation is that Kabali is after all, an out and out, director's movie! What a refreshing change from the last few outings of the Superstar, where the stories were woven to accommodate the Superstardom of Thalaivar! In Kabali, it is clear, that Ranjith was the orchestrator and the Superstar himself beautifully coalesced into the role of the Malaysian Gangster Kabali! Ranjith hasn't compromised at all. In fact he even got away with a climax which is suggestive of the end of Kabali, or is it? I've been a movie-buff as long as I can remember... Tamil movies, Hindi movies, Bengali Movies, Hollywood movies, World Cinema. It really didn't matter as long as I was watching the moving celluloid images. And I can say with some confidence that the technical aspects of this film were absolutely brilliant. The music and background score of Santosh Narayanan should rank as one of the best in Thalaivar movies for nearly two decades. The last time I was made to notice the BGM in a Thalaivar movie was in Dhalapathi which was released a quarter century ago, when I was still a toddler in nappies! SaNa (as he seems to be known) has come up with stunning BGM and completely off-beat numbers that are already topping the charts. My personal favorite is "Veera Thuranthara" - an eclectic mix of neo-funk/rap that has been brilliantly used by Ranjith to show Thalaivar in his 80’s look, the ride behind his friend Amir (with that nostalgic "step-cut" hair) in that vintage bike was captivating! The camera work was consistently brilliant with a bias towards the grandeur - the cinematographer has used stunning pan-shots capturing the KL skyline and nightlights as well as the verdant Malaysian estate grandeur with equal ease. 

4. And finally, this review would be completely remiss not to mention the towering screen presence, panache, and style quotient of Thalaivar. Kudos to the costume designer and hair-dresser for such amazing work that shows the Superstar in stunningly handsome looks scene after scene.

To sum it up, this movie is a downright winner and it is a shame that many reviewers have put on needlessly punctilious lenses for an out-and-out commercial entertainer. More shameful is the stream of social media messages that aim to portray the movie in poor light. Many of such reviews, memes and caricatures happen to be in Tamil this makes me recall the Superstar dialogue in the movie about the "Crab-story". Here is a Tamil movie that has soared to dizzy heights nationally and globally and there are people right here amongst our very own Tamilians, trying to bring it down with uncharitable and downright envious postings in the social media, many of them being grotesquely indecent.

But the wider national and global audience is wiser and I'm hearing that Kabali is doing earth-shattering business around the world. That's the way it should be. This is by far the best Thalaivar movie in a long long time!!!! Period.

The Eternal Choke Artists

It’s that time of the year, when Arsenal fans find themselves embroiled in a familiar frustrating situation. It’s that time of the year when they wish they could go into hibernation like some of the more fortunate species of fauna and wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the rest of the world. They utter a silent prayer that they could remain incommunicado for an indefinite period of time till things get better. The external ignominy faced by the Gunners faithful are inclusive of the usual mocks, jeers and a wide variety of taunts ranging from sarcastic commiserations to group humiliations replete with abuses bordering on the lines of All India Bakchod’s roast from rival fans. I, being one myself, unabashedly admit that I almost enter into a fit of murderous rage whenever a friend or relative who is a hardcore Chelsea or a Manchester United supporter confronts me after a horrid Arsenal loss with that whacky sardonic smile which speaks a million words. But internally upon honest retrospection, every Arsenal fan kicks himself and what lends an extra vigour to the kick is the knowledge that these are well deserved brickbats hurled at him, but sadly he remains in a position unable to do anything other than abjectly surrender to the throes of hope. Oh the audacity of hope!

Arsenal’s abysmal capitulation in the last couple of games at Old Trafford on Sunday and at home to Swansea yesterday have again set the bloody alarm bells ringing again. Alarm bells not warning of losing ground in the title race, but rather the conventional and more familiar refrain that unless Arsenal buckle up, a 4^th place finish is in dire danger. And what beats me is how do Arsenal play to this predicament year after year for nearly a decade with unfailing precision? I just fail to understand.

I mean just imagine this. Arsenal start every season strongly, breeze through the first 3 months with aplomb essaying a virtuoso exhibition of champagne football, which is a treat to every football connoisseur. Then as the festive season wears on, spanners are thrown into the works and the traction is disturbed. The wobble begins almost immediately after Christmas, and by the middle and the end of February, they inevitably press the self-destruction button and implode. Its like a sports car, starting with a bang, and very soon hitting cruise control at 200 MPH, squeezing every penny out of the odometer before it inexplicably veers out of control and within seconds comes a pathetic smeller in the ditch.

I attribute this annual phenomenon to a phrase I coined in the wee hours of today morning, called ‘Programmed to Implode’ after enduring 90 minutes of agony last night against the Swans. It’s almost as if this is destined to happen at the start of every season. The tagline of my former employer TCS is ‘Experience Certainty’ which perfectly fits the bill for Arsenal. It’s truly disheartening to see Arsenal’s implosion, towards the fag end of the premier league season, becoming almost as certain as the sun rising in the east.

On deep contemplation and unbiased analysis, one can attribute this phenomenon to a multitude of factors. I’ll save the best for the last. Firstly, the manager Arsene Wenger’s stubbornness when it comes to purchase decisions. I don’t understand how can a team aim to compete for top honours in a league which assumes, as it progresses, menacing proportions of a dog-eat-dog slugfest, without having a crop of world class players who have had the experience of winning trophies. Why is it that Arsene refuses to splurge money, and instead relies on his tried, tested and yet miserably failed formulaic pattern of playing teenagers on the big stage. I am second to none in my admiration for the well-structured Arsenal Youth Academy which nurtures and grooms young talent to rise up through the ranks from the reserves to the main team. I also admire Arsene and his scouts for their uncanny ability of spotting young footballing blood from the remote corners of the planet and putting them on the next plane to London. But seriously is this going to get us trophies? Absolutely not. What else can explain Manchester City’s meteoric rise over the decade from mid table and relegation battling positions to being considered as one of the most deadly footballing teams, and a potential lure for the world’s best player Messi. Similarly what Arsenal need is experienced and well-oiled machinery who know what to do and how to do on the big stage. And that is why arsenal fans are beseeching ‘Splurge! Splurge! Splurge!’

Is too much of emphasis being laid on Arsenal's youngsters?

So this eventually leads to the second factor which is the undeniable manifestation of a major mental block and a fear psychosis that begins to set in when pressure starts reigning towards the more crucial part of the season. We need a squad which can, if necessary, park the bus and grind a slew of lacklustre 1-0 victories, rather than a set of players who simply ride on a momentum wave to conjure meaningless 4-0, 5-0 victories against amateur teams. The current crop of players such as Sanchez, Giroud, Ozil, Walcott have consistently shown dazzling football skills, but eventually when the push comes to shove, they fail to perform and crumble. The age old adage in sport ‘Mind over Matter’ has never before assumed more relevance in the context of the Gunners than the present.

Thirdly and lastly as promised I propose to bring on board the controversial topic of Arsene Wenger’s credentials and his ability to sustain on this unmerciful stage of English football. I am very aware of the fact that I am about to stir up a hornet’s nest. Whenever I broach this topic among fellow gunners, typically passions and emotions take centre stage and almost immediately start clouding rational thinking. A good deal of my brethren, start vociferously arguing that it was Arsene who brought fame and name to this club. It was Arsene who was instrumental in Arsenal winning 2 league titles and 6 FA Cups. It was under Arsene that the mighty ‘Invincibles’ flourished. It was Arsene at the helm of affairs of when, Arsenal symbolized footballing excellence at its apotheosis in all those glorious yesteryears at Highbury. True, Arsenal’s history can certainly be bifurcated into Pre-Arsene and Post-Arsene eras. True, the brand of football played then by the same club peaked Empyrean heights, which in all likelihood may never be replicated on the English stage. But dear friends kindly introspect! Is this a time to gloat over past successes? Kindly remember that the then crop of players included the inspirational captain Patrick Vieira, the legendary Thierry Henry, the Dutch wizard Dennis Bergkamp, the French Maestro Robert Pires, the mercurial Swede Freddie Ljungberg to name just a few. There was another array of players who could produce many a piece de resistance whenever circumstances demanded them, thus bringing home the bacon. Do we have even a tenth of that squad in terms of quality?

The Arsenal Invincibles winning the 2003-04 EPL Title

Another inane argument that springs forth is the continuing legacy of Arsene Wenger. To me the word legacy is of no importance, if it fails to fulfill the raison d’etre of a club’s sheer existence and that is to bring itself and its fans glory through trophies. And in this department Wenger has almost miserably failed in the past decade except for a couple of odd ball FA Cup trophies which came after a painful wait of nearly 9 years.

I, once used to look at Roman Abrahamovich, the owner of Chelsea F.C with considerable disdain and derision. At Chelsea, the Sword of Damocles perpetually hangs over any manager at any given point of time. Abrahamovich has mercilessly wielded the executioner’s axe resulting in a change of 8 managers over a period of 10 years. Even the inimitable and effervescent Mourinho with the reputation of heralding a new era at Chelsea has not been spared not once but twice. But now I realize, it is this butchering practice has enabled Chelsea to consistently win silverware over the years. This is cruel but sadly the bitter truth in football management for football is a highly capricious sport.

Chelsea managers over the last decade

Carlo Ancelotti guided the Blues to a premier league and FA cup title in the 2009-2010 season. The next year, a trophy-less season resulted in his sacking. Avram Grant, was a kick away from winning Chelsea’s first ever European Champions League title in 2008, before being shown the door. Not an iota of mercy was shown on Roberto Di Matteo either, who despite engineering Chelsea to its first ever UEFA Champions League title, was axed ruthlessly. This only goes to show that past successes need to be flung into oblivion if they needs to be tasted in the present.

A section of the Arsenal faithful calling for Wenger's exit

However disconcerting it may be to Wenger loyalists, the truth lies that, had we changed our managers from time to time on account of non-performance (perhaps not with the damning pace of Abrahamovich), Highbury’s legacy might have seamlessly segued into the trophy cabinets of the Emirates by now.

For now, the tunnel is dark with no end in sight and every toothless attempt to scratch at the prized league title is only throwing us back into an abyss of nothingness. E.M Forster the iconic English Novelist once wrote that Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony was the most sublime noise that ever penetrated the human ear. Likewise I would say for an Arsenal fan, the sight of the Arsenal Squad, bathed in confetti and holding aloft the premier league title would be the most sublime sight that ever met the eye. But that for now seems to be only assuming bigger proportions of Don Quixote tilting at the windmills. It simply remains to be seen how much more we as Arsenal fans can endure.

Again remember brothers what we need is ‘The Audacity of Hope’!