Mayakam Enna

Mayakam Enna releases at a crucial time in the history of the world when the abundance of opportunities convinces youth to lead lonely lives amidst their material accomplishments.At a time when ambition seeks occupational success relegating personal life to the second position, the movie shocks its audience by narrating the struggle of a 'modern' girl who commits herself to the passion of her naive and unsuccessful husband, who by the turn of disastrous luck develops a psychotic condition that makes him all the more dispensable to the society. As the plot develops one understands the metallic grit of the girl's mind in her every act aimed at securing the interests of her husband (Dhanush) whose nuisance worsens by the day. The character personifies emotional brilliance and immerses the unsuspecting audience into awe by the way she balances life's unfair moves. Yamini (Richa) displays dramatic tact in fighting the flat association's sternness, which despite its immaturity commands the respect of the viewer. The character displays tremendous resilience in combating the madness of Karthick (Dhanush), her husband, in her efforts to keep him connected to the world. She continues his (Dhanush's) battle to find him a break in his photographic carrier even after he'd given up efforts.

Several aspects of the film are way too dramatic and occur too often throughout the film. It is the non-conforming choices, which are viewed as impractical, the heroine makes that makes Mayakam Enna click. G.V.Prakash's background score preserves the pulse of the film. All performances are commendable while Richa and Dhanush have stood out through their scintillating performances. The hurried pace with which Tamil cinemas are known to take their ambitious protagonists towards monumental success has continued to wield its amateurish influence on the latest Selvaraghavan drama too. But to change that trend requires certain maturity both in the director and the audience which, hopefully, the future will witness. Mayakam Enna, it's a heroine's film. It is the story of how a photographer found a girl to write his story. That is Mayakam Enna, a reassuring love story. The film reminds the traditional solution, to modern society's infamous failure of shrinking lifespan of weddings, i.e., one remains the face of success to the world while the other strengthens and supports formidably and remains out of sight from the world.

Purple flower

I found this flower (if I may call it one) on the side of a road to the hilltop. It measured not more than a few centimeters and I could have easily missed spotting it, if it weren't for my friends asking to stop the van, of course to pee.

Puppy

One of these gloomy weather evenings I came about a little dog straying around the corner of the street where my quarter stands. It was a light brown, skinny mongrel who seemed comfortable in the company of his mother, who was much the same as him in looks except a little mature. That's just his looks described, the fascinating aspect of this weirdo tot was its ATTITUDE. Yeah!, this is a dog; What? Can't they have an attitude? Right! the plot goes like this; My kind disposition and generous humanitarianism moved me to believe that the pup was in dire need to be fed and, I immediately resolved to spare myself of a few rupees, of course, with characteristic gallantry, in exchange for few butter-biscuits in a nearby grocer. Seeing me approach them, the mother received me with good intentions (I mean wagging her tail), before she was alarmed by my struggle to open the plastic wrapper of the pack, and hesitated to further advance towards me and stood, churning the ground under her feet, praying, to whichever god she believes, that I must offer her the biscuit stock. I dropped her a few biscuits and soon won her trust that I was no kid seeking amusement in see her speed against approaching stones and turned to her pup, as she hounded on the strewn biscuits, who cared not for his hunger or for the biscuits as he wagged his little tail and played. Puppy wasn't interested in dinning, I had got it all wrong. He only seemed to want to play and did just that. Every time between his vivid plays he turned around to sight busy mom feeding and yet turned away to resume play. Upon closer examination, I found his body barely had any reasonable flesh, under his dirty coat, and ornate with scars from wounds that had hurriedly healed by the baking action of the sun and wind; And yet he was happy. No excuse given by his survival conditions, had made pup any more dejected. Deprivation hadn't made him to forget having fun, he was not even worried of losing his food. Perhaps he was sure that he will be served!! Im not trying to draw philosophical conclusions here, but still just wondering how could the puppy remain so happy in the face of the trials he's exposed to at such tender age. Or is it only true that I misinterpreted his emaciated body as an asking stomach? But, why in the end would he retire to have the biscuits if he wasn't hungry? It seems like a simple question to ask, and it is a simple question indeed, what on earth and sky and heaven made the untidy freak rejoice in the midst of what I perceived as his sorrow? The answer is clear. He had known that struggles are unsolicited orders life makes for us, and it's up to oneself to find those moments in life to unwind and make merry. For, however little we are granted we are never served so meager to forget the real pleasures of life. And if we could break away from our imprisoned notions about prerequisites for happiness, we would spend a larger part of our lives doing the things we liked to do, we cannot be failed by happiness. And by making our life meaningful to our-self, we unknowingly offer meaning to the lives of those who refer to ours, like what the puppy did to me. I'm not too eager to conclude without giving due consideration to the possibility that the pup's behavior could be a survival stunt in the new century. But, how could it be possible when it's still much the same dog of prehistoric times; lean, naked and friendly?

Birth of a grown-up

Life leads us to junctures where we are left brutally shattered and utterly devastated. It seems, for a moment, that survival has lost its purpose and despair the only meaningful conclusion. Death is a definite candidate that can arouse such feelings, but I'm not discussing death here. Rejection, is similar to death; in that it too compulsively and irrevocably takes away our loved ones from us permanently. Such a rejection is the theme of this post.
A amply disappointing rejection is capable of profound pain, and inconsolable. The belief that the end of the road has arrived sets in too early and clouds reasoning, eventually we end up victimizing ourselves. We may shout within closed doors, weep until we're deprived of water in our eyes, curse us until it convinces us of its futility, but nothing of these would help us reclaim ourselves. Our education, however rich it may be, comes not to one's rescue; failing us in the most critical minute. Friends, will seem bitter and so will relatives. We lock ourselves into the dark cellars of silence and abandon the presents of life, out of mad obsession with pleasant memories of the past that have become ruthless tormentors. God may seem non-existent and gloom convinces to be the reality of the future. We are broke and finely pulverized, so much is true; only so much.
Men who survived rejections have realized their strengths and drawn inspiration from their experiences with the lost before the loss. Our energies can be re-built and our crafts re-engineered better now, from the knowledge of the poignant encounter. The greatest reward is the significant understanding of oneself that occurs inevitably with difficult episodes. And the horror rich illusions of 'end-of-life' would've re-rendered itself into a more meaningful interpretation of 'opportunity'- to rebuild life on a different cast and evolve different priorities and prepare for greater contests. This time one grows more consciously; as an adult and not merely like a child that had to grow with fewer choices and before the deadline. The beauty of creation and creator will inspire awe and life will be the most cherished and compelling compliment ever and eventually bloom with pristine happiness and success.
All this is possible because we realize that life, despite being unfair, can only take away our loved ones from us, but never can take love from us. We have made peace with our past.

Silent evolution

The small city in the union territory of Dadra and Nagar Haveli, 40 km from the west cost of India will topple every unsuspecting soul into deep surprise. Silvassa wakes up a little late than most other Indian cities owing to its geographical position on the western coastline the country.
With not too many places to of tourist interest, Silvassa will still impress the art lover in you, with the traditional constructions lined along the inner roads and with its broad long main roads and market streets that bustle during most hours of the day. You'll find everything you want in your kitchen, except a wife, in the market lane. And at costs you cannot imagine in a metro like Chennai.
The few tourists spots can be known from the internet, but what you must spend considerable time exploring here is the taste of the beers the bars here offer. I cannot help you with suggestions there, since my allergic anti-alcohol syndrome would not permit me any closer to beer, or its like, than a safe sniffing distant from where I can pretend to dislike the scent.
Apart from liquor, one gets finest chaats here. Try the recipes of the street corner vendors, you'll be in for a surprise here too. Disclaimer: Hold not me liable if you, alternatively, land in one of the hospital beds.
The space consciousness of the men here particularly, the barber,is amazing. Four square feet of continuous floor space and, they set up a few chairs and a mirror and begin to service hair-scape of the populace.
The men slog during the day at work and sink in bars in the evenings. There are good many hospitals, schools and colleges to cater to the small population of the city. The women are pleasing and their mannerisms welcoming. Their men look the most eligible pairs. There is a wonderful highway to walk during dusk, for those who wish to abstain from the stench of the bars that have proliferated the mainland as a consequence of rapid industrialization.
One month stay is definitely going to be a wonderful change. Please await personal accounts of the stay, in the forthcoming entries.

On course- love

Love is often the most widely debated phenomenon cutting across age gender and nationality. A recent remark made by a 'slightly-better-than-stranger' lead me into solemn contemplation over my perception of love. The gentleman remarked with pride, 'girls should hunt their man', and tonally clarified that his dignity consisted in being chased by his woman.
An honest sentiment though, reflecting the desire to feel important, it hardly suggests love. While it is a matchless feeling to learn someone regards you 'special', it shouldn't be the set priority or precondition to fall in love. Where such opinion is prematurely framed either, from hearsay or books or films one misses the adventures and thrilling essence of pursuing one's love. The excitement, dreams, celebrations and disillusionment and the inconsolable agony in love's pursuit are the real lessons that make a man; making 'love' the difference between a boy and a man.
Success favors those who work towards it, and why should a man not search for his girl, with whom he plans to closely spend the remainder of his life. Especially, if ever you find that woman who sends a shrivel down your spine, dwell no more in doubts. Just go for her and honor her giving all your love and care, than persist in meaningless calculations of returns or dreaming of tokens.
First love happens just once in life, and life is a consequence of first love. Open your heart and soul and expand your life to include your 'someone special' embracing all that she grants you without discrimination. Don't lose the defining experiences first love grants to the fear of failure, for there is no failure where there is love.
Im thankful to the gentleman, who through his thoughtless comment provoked me to rethink upon love. And like before, the conclusion is that, love consists in generous giving.

song of a lovelorn

My world is filled with joy
With love devoid of passion
Rejoicing, in moments of solitude
Reliving times spent with her
After she disowned me.
My life is just perfect
With all its incomplete desires
And scars from inevitable falls-the
Souvenir of love's pains is always pleasure
Long after you said good bye
My heart still beats for you
Their is still enough room for
You to mess- Can you but give me joy
That which you have filled my world with
That which you doomed me to go without you

Dev's Marriage and the Chettinad experience

The boys' tickets with me drove me early to the station, where Hemanth and I spent several minutes searching for Rameshwaram express, which was apparently parked in one of the central platform's. Our countenances didn't reveal how snubbed v actually felt!
The train began in its characteristic limping speed as v settled disturbing everyother co-passenger within our immediate vicinity, in our efforts to accomplish nothing worthwhile. The mouths moderated themselves, often leaving the mind behind, generating laughter and enthusiasm, not to mention the occasional bleeding around ears! Tempted by packs of cards brought by Swathi, we spread a bedsheet, for a table, between us and sat like fishermen waiting for a catch. Our irresistable influence drew the lady, the only stranger in our cubicle, to us who agreed to play for Jesanth, who hadn't even the knowledge I've about the game. The enterprise ended right there after a CRPF deliberated his objections, however loose the grounds were.
While all this was happening, someone kept visiting Vidhu, rather irregularly, blowing wind into her ears everytime he called upon her. Thinking it could be someone who exchanged his ticket with our's, we dismissed without giving it the drill of our curiosity.
The limited choices we had sent us under our bedsheets for a sleep which ran swifter than the train, a jointconspiracy with time, and we were awake to see the sun rise after a very long time. Guess what? Archana was in no mood to break her record, and went a little longer snoring. Somewhere inbetween we learned that the stranger was a part of our contigent, hence we exchanged priliminary information.
Karikudi welcomed us a little post dawn and we were moved to the Mandapam in a van, that drove through the narrow arterial clean streets, lined on either side by traditional Chettinad style houses at regular intervals, setting the first impression of a beautiful city that was very different from home.
It wasn't without shocks; the foremost being the allotement of rooms for boys and girls in separate quarters. I beared with it and moved on showing no signs of disappointment on my face. And I believe that it was the case with the other boys aswell. There was someother thhing that demanded my immediate attention and that was hunger! And hunger, despite ready availability of food arranged in a tempting display on plaintain leaves could not be had owing to the norm of bathing before breaking fast. Just when we hurried to our room to water wash our bodies, we discovered that none of us had brought a soap, hoping to use any one soap of the ones brought by the others. We managed a Mysore sandal from a nearby shop and glossed it on our bodice more for scent and less for cleansing, and sat to dine within an hour. The girls were already there; shocked, I enquired and learned that the smarties had skipped the ritualistic bathing scheduling it after break-fast.
My uncivil hunger made me eat like a savage, tossing in wat was closest to me, even if it were on the others leaves. I relished the Karaikudi break-fast despite my famished state at start. The serving was impressive and the taste atypical of anything of the same name in Chennai, colluded with my hunger to make the meal taste extremely good, into which I dug my face. Even before we finished our break-fast, the news of an awaiting feast of Chettinad non-vegtetarian cuisine for lunch at the groom's inn, made our famished boys eat less to reserve space for a greedy lunch. Things, however, didn't augur well and the 'lunch'plan didn't survive, and treaded the same path as did the sight seeing proposal. The difference was that, the 'lunch annulment' was not a craft of the girls.And so we sat together once again for a wholly macrobiotic meal. Naturally, the boys having learnt their lesson from the break-fast experience, ate as much as what an mad elephant running rampage over fields would have destroyed.We hardly knew what went down our gullets, frantically poping items spotted on our leaf. Between break-fast and lunch was the visit to a Kovilur shrine, famed for its tall rock-cut Pandyan era sculptures. The temple dedicated to Sri Kotravaleeswarar has an interesting mystical story of lordess Thirunellai Amman descending to perform a miracle to protect the food grains of her devottee Sivagupthan. Im sure there are many such legends. This monumental architecture raised by king Veerasekara Pandiyan is truly a marvel by all means.
As planned, I departed to meet Sherley at her place. The first phase of the ride, in an omni, spilt my legs to accomodate the gear stick inbetween. I had nightmares everytime he shifted to the second gear. Thank god, there was never a need for the fourth and reverse gear! The remaining distance was covered in bus and in moped, behind Sherls brother- Jerome. The evening spent with the wonderful family is the rarest of its kind. I enjoyed every single minute I spent there, as it didn't seem like being there for the first time. All thanks the house. It was a hard decision to resist the temptation to stay there for the night, after the idea was mooted by uncle. But, I knew I had to go, and stuck to my second thoughts and left the beautiful home, carrying with me memories of moments spent there and the heavy consignment after Maiths oredered for few.
IT was pretty dark, though not late, by when I reached Kovilur. I saw the girls walking towards the main road as I walked into the streets. Stopped, to have the introduction of Sneha Priya, who apparently was a classmate of my classmates before we became classmates. Swathi pointed to the cloudless night sky that glossed with glittering stars strewn carelessly by hands that had no respect for its beauty. And yet it seemed so beautiful.
Back in the hall it was once again time for food-dinner-and, while everyone else dinned, I scheduled it till the last service. I was absolutely moved by the girls' gesture, giving me their company by sitting surrounding me as I dinned. Far more patient this time, I remembered uncle's- Sherley's dad- advice to first eat the prefered items to have a fullfiling meal. The choices were plenty, often confusing which to pick first and which to skip or leave till the very end. It was, rather surprising to learn the existence of a Tamil tradition which single-mindedly rejected Sambar from its menu. I'd never conceived a Tamil soceity in Tamil Nadu that doesn't float its food under Sambar. And I wondered at the alternatives the Chettinads had evolved; they are simply endless.
The night outside the hall was as beautiful as the day. And if not for the nasty mosquitos, I would have lost many more hours of sleep. Identified the new guy- Balaji- at the stroke of midnight; guess it's not all that bad to learn at that time!
A new day was born, the choices on the menu kept increasing, which was diversifying the troubles a friend-Buvana-had. At one point, it reached the climax, when she could no longer stand the chemistry lab in her, and consequently fell fainting over my suspecting arms. It's not all that cool as it seems when such a thing happens in the celluiod. I could have easily torn few of my ligaments had I not found a place to rest her nearby. Our "kollywood-trained paramedics" took stock of the situation and brought things back normal with nothing more than a wet towel and semi-dried lemon, that was hung from the vehicle's front frame.
From the surprise cutting of the wedding cake to the 'enlightening' discussions in the railway station through the frentic fooding and travels, the day was just amazing, and nothing like anything before.
The stocks rolled into Egmore with palpably reduced zest. But, Archana was unrelenting in her determination to maintain her 'sleep record', not quiting her berth until the train came to a complete halt in Egmore. And the best thing was that, we hadn't stopped enjoying. There was no apparent nostalgia, entertainment had its way till the terminus. And Im sure, with these kind of people, it will never caese to be. It was one memorable journey that all of us had.

About about about. .

Hello everybody! as if I have too many visitors! but that's fine, it is worth utterting for the pleasure it gives as one does.
Before we begin discussions i'm obliged to ask you if you really are free and volunteering to lose time, because that's precisely what I'm going to assist you in through this post. If your reading this line, then I take it that you are determined not to regret in the end- if you sustain that long-, or in the middle or inbetween. And I appreciate such determination.
Well for those who are still with me, here is a good second chance for wisdom to prevail. This post is my first attempt to imitate in writting, my speeches; talks, im sorry. Translation- there is no specific theme for this post, nor direction. Nevertheless, it's not without purpose, which is to respond to the long standing requests of Vaish aks; my lone serious follower.
Congradulations! u r where u were least expected to be. U've proved some curious law, which im not sure what it is. Talking about law reminds me of my legal classes and thinking of it makes me forget everything, including myself since im mostly 'lost' in the 'legal hour'. That leaves me blank and wondering, yet again, what to write. This sort of a thing is common inside math classes in schools; but here it is, continuing through PG and haunting us even here. It's a little over midnight, I should abstain from speaking of scary things. Lets, therefore, depart from this topic.
Its strange that one doesn't find things when it comes to writting. Strange because, it's not the same case with talking, where we are run by torrential ideas and just waiting for our turn to pour them out in turn, or otherwise. What explains that? perhaps a sense of fear that what is written becomes a proof of our ignorance, and that it may always hang around in people's mind even after the writer is moved out of his/her ignorance. There could be simpler reasons, like lack of patience, inanimate audience (paper), limitations in knowledge over the language, or aphonia or the apparent lack of ideas. There can be many more reasons depending upon the fancy of person and his/her talent and taste for jazzing up excuses. So, what are my reasons for my difficulty in writting? With me, its a combination of the reasons listed above when it's not aphonia, which is mostly the case. Excuse me for my lack of imagination and an evidently dull answer. Ironically, I possess both talent and taste prodigiously, but aphonia weigned a little more over its competitors, and hence reigned.
Aphonia, arguably is the biggest reason behind most people falling in love. Women exploit this trait of generally dumb men suffering from 'lack of girl friend' due to percieved social stress. Eventually, when such a man attains enlightenment and seeks to escape, he finds himself entraped in the henious cobweb the girl so tacitly spun him into. And the very few who manage to free oneself from the cobweb, is harassed by the society and branded as a miscreant culpable of the things the girl actually did to him. And at instances where the realization occurs a little later, after marriage, the lady wins the lottery of her life- a bumper in the name of alimony. Sadly with the favour of laws. That's how unfair the society has been to its majority population, i.e., the men. Perhaps, we should stop asking for reservations for women and demand reservations for men. Common guys, we need high paying jobs at least to pay off the debts created by our mislead choices and the ransom they demand in the name of alimony. I hope our law makers visit this page.
I shouldn't have brought this topic! They are never without kindling memories; memories which make one forget everything else. I've accidentaly invoked those memories, and thereby paved the way for the conclusion of this post. For it withdraws me from every other thought in drawing me closer to it. . .
Wow looks like we've returned to where we began- wondering what to discuss. That gives me the satisfaction of completing one cycle of undirected articulation. And also a new law that, 'undirected thoughts take a cyclic path'. Leave your comments, if you haven't as yet left!