Trisecting the Desi Cop

Every writer who sets out into the great field of literature with the hope of making it big needs to remember a sacred principle before starting a story. Grip the audience by the collarbone within a few lines, and provide fodder for thought at the very inception. It is in this quest, that I endeavour to put forth an incident.

Folks, I urge you to close your eyes and visualize it as I narrate. You are driving in one of the arterial roads of a metropolitan city. You are proceeding to catch a movie in a theater that is located on the opposite side of the road, so you approach the next major gap on the divider to take a U-turn and thanks to lesser traffic on the other side you seamlessly mingle into the stream of cars and motorcycles and start weaning towards the side as the theater is approximately 200 meters away on the left. 

You are all set now! A movie with your close buddies on this breezy Sunday October evening is the perfect way to relax after a brutally exhausting week at work. And just as you start to contemplate where you could head for dinner to cap off the week on a memorable note, spanners are suddenly flung into the works and you are brutally shaken up from your reverie. A pot-bellied creature in a white shirt and Khakhi coloured trousers which was lurking somewhere on the side of the road has metamorphosized from a stupefied form into a living image of a serotonin induced athlete who is about to break an unbelievable world record defying all laws of physics. The creature jumps onto the middle of the road in front of your car in a rather simian fashion thus throwing the traffic out of gear for the nonce and forcing you to bring the car to a screeching halt. An auto driver tailing just behind comes within a toucher of banging against your car, but skillfully evades just in the nick of time. In a cathartic release of emotions, a moment of lalochezia for which he has been waiting all day, he spews forth a venomous stream of the choicest Chennai Tamil abuse words, as he passes by. Before you even know what’s happening and attempt a recovery from this rattling set of disruptions, you are pulled over to the side of the road.

Yes I had just been caught by the Chennai Traffic Police for what was deemed as an offence of taking a U-turn at point where I was not supposed to. I tried arguing that I have come to Devi theater (my venue for the movie) in Anna Salai, perhaps a 127 times in my life and I have always taken the U-turn mentioned aforesaid and even if there was purportedly a change in traffic rules (which the Chennai Traffic Police keeps changing as frequently as RBI changes its policies on demonetization that was recently instituted), there ought to have been a board or some sort of ruddy signage clearly stating that taking a U-turn is not allowed. The cop saw a point in my arguments, but with his keen observation skills, honed by years of experience, gauged from my countenance that I was in a hurry, which was true for the movie was slated to start in 5 minutes. And he also sensed, by my attire that here is a boy who is from a well off family and would certainly go the extra mile to oblige a couple of quid to let him go. After all in India, bribery is a tool the rich use so efficiently to get away with any mistake (or no mistake in my case). And true to his predicament partly and partly me being not one who likes to fritter away eloquence at such a frantic juncture, I asked him ‘Now what is it that you want’. I am sure the words would have trickled like music into his hairy ears, for I had said the thing which he exactly wanted to hear. Sporting a mischevious grin he said ‘Paathu edhavadhu pannu ba’ which literally translates to ‘Please see if you can do something’, however metaphorically indicates ‘You are in deep shit if you don’t give me money’. I disgustingly took out my wallet, whipped out a hundred rupee note and thrust it into his palm. What followed was a picture of pathetic servility that is not uncommon to be taken to the lowest common denominator in Tamilnadu. In short – ‘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 ‘Rombha Nandri baa’.

I nestled back into my seat once again and proceeded to the theater, cursing the cop, and thinking that it was no wonder due to such obnoxious behaviour that cops in Tamilnadu have been bestowed upon them the epithet ‘Mama’ which translates to Pimp in colloquial jargon. The cop on his part in all probability trotted away happily to the nearest TASMAC (The Government run enterprise that supplies the Tamil millions with the daily joy of life), with perfect satisfaction that his Quarter and Biriyani for the night had been taken care of.

This is just one such tryst I have had with the cops, and I am pretty sure all of us would have had in our lifetime dealt with situations involving the gendarmerie in varying degrees of severity. After undergoing experiences and hearing stories from others, ranging from downright hilarious incidents to nightmarish and torrid tales, I think I am qualified enough to declare that every cop in our country will broadly fall into one of these 3 categories – The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

 

The good cop is essentially the one who deserves to be called a cop. Typically policemen who have come into the position by sheer virtue of their hard work, either having cleared IPS examination or having scaled arduously through the ranks, with the single notion of serving the society. He/She would go to all lengths to ensure that law and order is maintained, ensure his subordinates are sincere and non-corrupt and typically commands respect and by word of mouth a sincere police officer who is powerful but at the same time ensures that this power is not abused.

The bad cop is one whom the typical Indian laments about but doesn’t have the power to stand up against. The average citizen know that for their entire lifetime, cringing and lamenting is all they can do but are hopelessly aware of the fact that they can’t do much against this wicked hand of law and order. This is the type of cop who you almost see in every 2 out of 3 Indian action movies – The ACP who is hands in glove with the top politician of the city in all the murky business dealings, the Inspector who through his criminal connections will finish off a honest citizen who gets on his bad books, the DSP who will in the name of police interrogation carry out a shockingly inhumane and brutal treatment of suspects and probably kill them if he smells an monetary opportunity and book it as an encounter killing, as we saw in the critically acclaimed award winning movie ‘Visaranai’. This is the kind of police who will probably rape a woman who has come to the station to lodge a complaint of rape. To sum it up, one loses hope for humanity when one comes across in such incidents either on the newspaper, television or social media.

The 3^rd type who I brand as ugly is the one interests me the most - The ugly cop, who is always a symbol of mystery and puzzlement. This is where I would focus majority of my attention upon because he/she is the cop you come across in daily life. Just like we say boy-next-door it would be not be a mistake in assuming this one is the cop-next-street. The cop in the incident I narrated above at the start of my narrative would probably fall in this category. He or she is the daily cop you meet on the road, who relies on petty bribes and kickbacks from local shop owners, establishments, hapless drivers on the road, etc. to supplement his meagre income, but in most cases has a heart of gold. He is the kind of cop, who might for no virtual reason stop an unsuspecting motorist at a traffic signal towards the fag end of the month when he realizes he is at the end of his shoe string budget and converts him into a Bakra who will provide his fodder for a couple of days before the monthly salary is credited. 

But at the same time he is the sleepless guardian of peace. The very same familiar face in the same ugly looking uniform who stands on the road 365 days a year rain, shine or snow to direct the traffic, who sacrifices his own safety during the floods and storms to ensure that things are brought under control and who by and large believes in the goodness of humanity and tries his level best to live a life to exemplify the same. But at the same time is well aware of the fact that he is destined to be an average earning government servant all his life. So he consoles himself that now and then bending the rules to oblige a favour is well within his right, as Indians are used to this.

One more amusing anecdote to regale you. Pardon me for again involving the traffic constabulary, but since I have more or less been a law abiding chap, there have not been many other situations where the strong arm of law has had the opportunity to clasp me within its fold and exclaim with glee 'So who do we got here today!'. But on the road, every, and mark the word every, single person, male/female, student/employee, married/unmarried, is vulnerable to the putrid behavior of cops on the prowl and yours truly is no exception to that.

Recently I was hauled up in Hyderabad by a traffic cop for not having my sunscreen removed from the window pane, which as per a recent law by the Supreme Court had to be removed from all car windows. As such I have no objection with the new law for it is indeed a matter of fact that nowadays cars in their opaqueness have become rather convenient platforms to conduct with ease, crimes carnal in nature. But casting one look at the cop’s dial I knew his brain was already working overtime to spin a money churning scheme. To my surprise at first, he started preaching how it was extremely important for men like me who are the next face of shining India to follow the traffic law and set an example to the younger generation. The statement partly irked me as it indirectly meant I was already over the bar and had long expired my membership to the younger generation’s club, me being one who doesn’t wake up a single day not wishing I could reverse the clock to going and becoming younger! But I let it pass, because I was mighty impressed to see here was a principled cop who instead of straight away getting into brass tacks, took the more unconventional approach of donning the garb of a preacher to share a few pearls of wisdom. He spoke impressively on responsibilities as dutiful citizens, especially on the road and all that rot. But it was his gag on why it was youth like me on whom the onus lied upon to fulfill Abdul Kalam’s dream of making India a developed nation by 2020 that made me his fan immediately. I was stirred to the depths. Moved. Never before in my 20 years of Student life had I listened to any teacher with such rapt attention like the way I was drinking it all in from this horse’s mouth!!

It was indeed a thousand pities that what followed a few sentences later made me want to kick him even harder in the solar plexus. We were making pretty decent progress in the Teacher-Disciple session and I was nearly on the verge of accepting him as my philosopher and Guru when the cop pulled me suddenly over aside and told me that we could stop all this unnecessary discussion and easily settle the matter between ourselves. The simple arrangement was to just give him 200 bucks and he would leave me alone. The glass of respect fell down and broke into a thousand shattered pieces.

Phew... I mean I knew it was bound to happen and where it would all eventually lead to. But I dint expect it to happen without a flow or class! I mean consider this, when the clergyman is preaching his head off from the Book of Psalms and how prayer to Christ alone and nothing else is the way to attain salvation, with the mesmerized church-going audience nearly in his pocket, he simply doesn’t call it quits suddenly and the next second stripping the contents of their wallets for the church donations! There is simply no segue in the proceedings. But that’s India. At the end of the day it all boils down to MONEY, which like it or not undoubtedly proves itself time and again as the ultimate remedy for all troubles.

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.