YOUTH DAA.... YOUTH. (ENGLISHE KOLRADA....)

It’s been ages since a new post. It’s not a creative vacuum but I guess I need a constant spur to talk about things. Something on which I should feel an urge to talk about. And guess what, I’ve found this amazing TV channel which can give you a thousand reasons to cry; a thousand reasons to laugh. Sounds like a phony book cover but yes... A youth channel which makes you curious about who exactly is the ‘youth’ intended. It makes you wonder if you are a Kryptonite. Well the thing is, once you watch this channel, you would bloody well want to be a Kryptonite.

I debated a lot whether I should be revealing the identity of the channel. (Well what’s the issue? Four or five people read this blog anyway, including me :p) But the channel authorities have two or three other channels, which feature bearable programs, and there is this great actor who is, I guess the general manager of the channel. (So you get the general picture.) But the youth channel...

There are a few Malayalis who feel a stab on their sensibility when some fellow Malayali goes... “enikyu malayelem kurachyu kurachyu...”I’m proud to say that I’m one among them. And I’ve noticed this syndrome is seen in people who had spent practically their whole life in Kerala. Or once you spend two or three years elsewhere, you go like, “these mallus are so difficult to put up with.”Give them a big solid whack on their ass and they will go screeching in solid Malayalam. I once had this classmate who was always going like” I flunked in Malyalem, guys... I need tuition. AWWWWW..... (The universal noise made by wackos.) And people go around appreciating her. It troubled me a lot that the same treatment was not meted out to Maths flunkies (They need it the most, you know? :))

But very few of us feel agitated when somebody does injustice to English. I don’t know why, maybe because it is still perceived as an alien tongue. But a language is a language. The above mentioned channel is a mixture of disrespecting English and disrespecting Malayalam. The guys over there have somehow developed this notion that Malayalam is inferior, and as ‘youth’, “vee talking in inklees....” My question is, what exactly is wrong with our mother tongue? It IS a beautiful language. And the channel guys don’t need to fear that Non-Malayalis would care to watch their programs. They would run for their lives. And the reason why Malayalis like us (read me and my friends) watch their programs is that 'WE' HAVE AN EXCELLENT SENSE OF HUMOR.(pun intended)

You might think I’m exaggerating. Well, here is an excerpt from one of their fashion related programs.( did someone say fashion? Njan chirichu chaakum :P)

Anchor: ( don’t call them ‘VJ’S. “ANKOR” IS MORE THAN ENOUGH.) We should change our attitude, dress, fashion. All change. Hope you all segments. Thank you.

Whoa!

I know I’m having fun having tuned in to this channel the whole day. I hope this is not a sin.

 I’m not saying that everyone should be speaking in flawless English. But please don’t degrade a language like this. More importantly, please don’t keep such a besmirched concept about “what youth want.” And thank you channel guys, for making us laugh so much.

An age of pseudo aestheticism.

About five years before the scenario in Kerala was very different. Kids hurrying for an endless series of tuition, parents in thick framed glasses talking of studies, studies and studies.., the pranksters and naughty ones ending up as the obvious black sheep of the family, and most often ending up in drama institutes and centers catering to art and acting. That my dears, used to be a very bad period for people of art. 
And... now the whole vista is different. Almost everyone(let's say, two out of three) you meet is a photographer, and my God, that art has flourished like no other had in these years.( courtesy to a popular post saying even a monkey with a DSLR is called a photographer these days.) And again, brace yourself against those umpteen pages of Tinku photography and Pinku photography. Good photographers, God bless them, are having a very troublesome time, it seems.

Music is another area where a huge transition has occurred. With all due respect for music bands like Avial, whose music was and is genuine and are undoubtedly talented,what with their music and the huge appreciation it had garnered, every other mallu 'rock band' is having members clad in lungi and going about screaming pathetic versions of otherwise beautiful folk songs whose beauty lies, I must say, their pristine state. ( They must be feeling down too, I surmise.) More than music, I guess musicians are more focused on the number of facebook proposals they get.( courtesy to a lewd interview of a faceless singer who was getting "marry me" proposals heaped upon him,
on a  very famous Malayalam 'youth' channel which has a very serious case of misconception about what youth want.) I went to a movie with a friend yesterday, and a song really had us in splits by the end of it. The song was good( read bearable) but the singers, Oh My God, had this seriously constipated look on their faces.( btw they don't remind us of the 'Life in a metro' guys, OK...Maybe a little... oh no, they don't.)

We know that the whole history of art, right from the times of Chaucer, had been interspersed with periods of aestheticism, romanticism, classicism and in between flashes of puritanism. This sudden surge of love for art in Kerala is definitely something to be proud about, I agree. I guess even our parents are slowly getting rid of their B.Tech mania for this artistic movement and forcing their kids into music lessons and photography coaching.(Maybe this is because they have finally begun seeing the big fat unemployment club or the "Mech ,EC or civil, we do IT" club.) This is exactly where it goes wrong, as well. Why the heck aren't we happy with doing what we like? Why do we have to wield a DSLR because everyone else does? Why do we have to force toilet jokes and swear words into our movies JUST FOR THE SAKE OF IT? Why do we  to get subjected to a parade of lungi dances and songs just because some guys were innovative about it?

Art is great and is the best thing to live life. But it can be the most disastrous thing if people are just copycats about it.
 DISASTROUS.

Bibliophilism

A collection of some book reviews I had posted in Goodreads. (In case anyone would find this helpful).
 

Having discarded the "this is from the HP author" prejudice, one can start to read this book, which delights, shocks and is worth reading. I can't fathom the reason why this book had conjured up so many negative reviews, except for the flaw of the unreasonable price, which fits her image as the best selling author, but somehow the book isn't worthy of. The magic land of Hogwarts, friendship and patronus charm has given way to the harsher realities of life.The book is indeed for the "adults", but gives glimpses, now and then, of something remotely "magickish". The towering image of Barry Fairbrother somehow seems "dumbledorish". Just another reminder that writing in an easy to follow language doesn't indicate at the weakness of an author.

Being a great fan of Lahiri, the book didn't came surprising.Her lucid style, style of narration, after all these are a few reasons why her works are sought after.But for me, you should read this book for the tremendous amount of reality in it, the way she makes the reader feel as if she/he is a part of the story, and for those who prefer their books with a tinge of pathos in it,you should definitely read it.Her characterization is just superb, her "American born confused desis", ranking the top of the list. A BOOK THAT MADE ME SMILE, THINK AND CRY.

 

 

  What a great book... Bond magic is at its best in this book as he devotes various chapters to those people in his life who could be never forgotten... Simple, ordinary men and women who secures an extraordinary place in our hearts through their gestures of love and kindness... His books reek of mountain air and is the best thing that can go along with a cup of hot coffee. Truly, he is India's resident Wordsworth in prose.

 

 

 

  A husband finds his wife missing one day. A series of psychological interpretations and bombarding of cosmic truths. May be I'm not that transcendental. May be the soul got lost in translation.Call me shallow, but reading this book was a painstaking effort for me, and I had to read it just for the sake of completion, something I hate very much.No Coelho for me in the near future, I already have been subjected to a volley of life truths to last a life time. Thank you.

 

 

 

 

  One of those books in the alarmingly increasing pile of metro-reads or easy-reads or whatever you call them. Good if your aim is to kill time or read while having a face pack on your face:). No serious plot or anything,a series of diary entries that could be read in one go.Humorous in patches, I should agree that it is definitely better than some of the ridiculous Indian urban reads that come out these days, with equally ridiculous titles. 

 

 

Great book... Great book.... And I guess this time I'm really confounded. Yann Martel is nothing short of a genius. A great tale that underlines the importance of perseverance and faith. And mind you, it is least didactic as it could get.Truly, a MUST-READ.

 

 

This is definitely a book that goes into the list of must reads. This is not a didactic gospel, but a beautifully drawn picture of a happy family that goes through many temptations and sufferings, together.. a marvel of a book.

Have a 'Filmy' Onam

Well,  belated ഓണാശംസകൾ  to all Malayali pals out there. Like any other 'quintessential'(oft recently this word began to have lewd associations for me, thanks to a cranky pal.) Malayali, I had  gala celebrations( or was victimized by it) at college, which consisted of  pookalams comprising of salt, saw dust and a few flowers, an ഓണസദ്യ  and a couple of DSLR pics for proof.
At home, thanks to the umpteen number of TV channels showcasing  newly released( some were even released on the TV!) movies and innumerable interviews with film stars who fondly reminisced their memories associated with, and went on reiterating about their busy lives and tightly packed schedules, I was kept engaged.. This is a favorite part of mine as, if not all of them, very few of them are seen to be affected by this syndrome of talking about things they don't understand or pretending for somebody else. There are beauties with brains in Cinema, but a few make it evident that they are not fit to talk about anything other than lipsticks and sunscreens. Yesterday I cried watching an interview of an actress, who was shocked by the 'newses' of 'misuses'.:p

Conscious of the fact that Onam had been much better when I used to be little, with cousins all around, presided by benevolent grandparents, I realize that like any other festival, Onam too, is about togetherness and warmth. Life hacks might have made life pretty easier, but the price paid is evident. Bliss. From that of the petite but profound pleasures of life. Maybe this is a part of growing pains as well. People abroad celebrate it with much gusto and nostalgia,whereas back at home, we sit glued to the TV screens. Well, it has become a pattern now. The mode of celebration. Who knows, generations later, we would be telling our grand kids the tale of the benevolent king Mahabali and the traditions associated with Onam. "We used to watch films in TV back then you know? Of Mohanlal and Mammootty... What a time we used to have back then..."

GenNow, Dating and the 'Me' syndrome!

The last time I was on Facebook, I received a friend request from someone who apparently seemed a stranger. After looking close at the profile picture, it dawned upon me that I was staring at a second cousin who was hardly ten. Seeing her wall posts which were mainly constituted by Robert Pattinson in his ghastly Twilight look and some other chick flick movie posters, I wondered. What was I doing when I was ten? Baking mud cakes? There were also snippets of conversation between her friends on dating, stalking and what not. Why, I can’t help smiling reminiscing about my own ignorant childhood. The first time I heard the song DATING from the Tamil film Boys, (I might have been 10 or 11 back then) I imagined it as some kind of a game. :-) (Well it is, for the majority). Forget reminiscing, scanning through a yellow newspaper last day, the leading headline was"Dippy has too many dates", as if the sociopolitical structure of the country was dependent on the number of her dates.(And don't ask me who  Dippy is, I don't have the least idea.) Well, as they say, ignorance is bliss,  at least sometimes. 

Millennium’s teens swear without second thought and are adept in mastering them. Many of them swear for no apparent reason, like "Motherfucking Lord, I dropped my pen.." as if not swearing makes them uncultured and primitive.  The shocking truth is some of the Godforsaken parents smile and nod at them, wondering” My kiddo ees speaking engleesh”. Forget swearing, there is a chance of getting branded 'orthodox' and 'hopelessly narrow minded and outdated if you abstain from that. But what about learning to care for others? What about realizing there are other pronouns other than 'me', 'my' and 'myself'? Having always been a person who stood gaping at the smart-alecks who won their way through sheer selfishness, and wondering at times if life isn't just to the meek, maybe I'm saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

 Capital cities often frighten me and that too, for no particular reason. Years back, way back in my school hood years when  I had to join in a new school in Trivandrum, a pompous girls' one, I was made to sit next to the topper of the class, a quintessential bespectacled one. Clearing my throat I asked her, meekly " Umm.. "Can I have your Geography notebook?"  With a glare, she replied" Can't give you. My notes are for me to study"Flushed, I turned my face to a group of students who were eying me with  sympathetic expressions etched across their faces. I was told later by a bunch of eager girls that she shared nothing with no one in the fear of losing the much cherished first rank. And I was like..." God! These kind of girls do exist" as the only instance I have seen them before was in English chick flicks and Enid Blyton novels.( They can be seen in plenty in Trivandrum, don't ask me why, coz I honestly dunno. I'll tell you this. In one month, I was back at my old school. :p)

And the mountains echoed- A review

After I finished the book, I sat still for quite a long time, the book on my lap, a faint ghost of a smile on my lips. And I know we all love  books that do that to us! To all those who love Khaled Hosseini, "we share an interesting quirk, c'mon, let's be friends" :)
Out of all the myriad quotes that describe the umpteen qualities that should adorn an author's creative paraphernalia, I love a simple one the best. He should "make 'em smile, make 'em cry, make 'em wait." And this man is best at this!
This latest from him will prove to be a good read to all Hosseini fans, and for me, this was the best of the three. The Bloomsbury guys have done a superb design job, the pages etched with imprints of feathers, which play an important part in the story. His language is precise, poetic and purrfect!
The novel opens with one of the lead characters narrating a fable, supposedly Afghan,but like all fables, an Indian or Malayalam version was already familiar to me. Unlike the previous novels, this presents a medley of characters and a number of locales ranging from Afghanistan, Greece and Paris.All Hosseini novels embody the fact that life is neither black nor white and this is no exception. I'm a person who has this tendency to flinch at overtly dramatic and cliched moments in a story. I'm afraid it takes much to convince me as far as drama is concerned. And this is exactly why I love his works.Most writers might tend to argue with me on this point on the inevitability of drama, but I think that drama has to be camouflaged at most occasions.when Hosseini says "this happened", you know that was bound to happen.You realize this is life.You feel and cry for characters.(caution: a major catharsis takes place.) You realize how fate can be blatantly cruel to people like Thalia and yet, you marvel at her strength.You realize you haven't gone through anything. You stop taking things for granted. You realize that life is drastically different from the soaps and Karan Johar films you see. You realize that the heroine doesn't slip on a banana skin and fall into the hero's outstretched arms. You know that they aren't exactly going to live happily ever after. You know that life isn't as simple as that.
At the same time you know that life isn't wailing in tears. You realize that life has got more issues than facing a demonish mother in law. You know life is difficult, and you know that you can pull through- with a smile on your face.Throw your self improvement guides to the winds and grab a copy of And the Mountains Echoed. Live life:)
Khaled Hosseini is the master of the art of smiling between tears.Heck, I love this guy!                                

Angels Uncatered For

If there is one place on earth that I try my best to evade on a routine basis, that should be a hospital. I have met several others who share this quirk with me, but in me, it gets transformed to a phobia. The only instance I feel better is on visiting new moms. The smell of disinfectant, the general sombre air, hallways that echoes eerie sounds of footsteps... ooh! I don’t know. I have always marveled at the mental orientation of medical students who study in an atmosphere like this. A best pal had once remarked that she finds the air extremely conducive to academic exertions. I doubt if my literature counterparts would agree. I guess not. It is true that doctors are usually meted out the honor and respect that their jobs deserve and in some cases, more. But I reckon there are few others who deserve some consideration as well. The last time I visited my grandfather in a private hospital, I saw the much familiar sight of nurses running around in the corridors, their arms loaded with trays of medicine and other knickknacks. I don’t know if I should be adding “their faces with a smile” phrase. Many people have remarked that that was a false cliche for many of them were actually bitter. I wonder how they would feel after wiping someone’s shit. Well, seriously! It is really easy for people to be criticizing but just imagine a day in their shoes? If at all some of them are bitter, I don’t think many of us deserve to complain. Well in my case, I certainly don’t. I listened to my grandmother sympathizing with them.” They don’t have a moment’s rest”. She said. After getting out of the building, I almost sighed with relief. Through an open door, I heard somebody yelling at a nurse. I... blinked. That's what many of us can do, after all.