At the Peripheral...

An open letter to someone I wished I had never loved!

2012-01-25T14:02:00.000-08:00

It finally is over… I had hoped it never would be, but it is… and I am a loser for falling prey to you again. So what was I? A random guy who would look after you, take care of your expenses and blow you when you were horny? I hate myself for having been reduced to just that, all the while assuming I was in LOVE. It took you one month to replace me, no? Just ONE month… and what for… Because I asked you to love me in return!
If I mattered even a bit, wouldn’t you have tried? You always knew that I was just waiting to take you back and believe in the lie that you helped create… so what was it that changed?
You didn’t love me, no? I’m sure that was it… because if that was not the case, then you are just evil. So for my own sake, I shall remember you as a young boy who fell out of love with me… because if you did love me — what you did was not what anyone deserves, not even your worst enemy.
Take care and for your own good, stop using people so selfishly… it will all backfire one day and you will have no way to counter it.
You, or who you made me to believe you were, will be missed. Your true form in all its vileness however will not. And please, no amount of psychological counselling can help someone like you. You enjoy being a victim and I am sure you wanted to be portrayed as the victim in this relationship too. But that cannot happen, because, unlike you, I loved you… and till yesterday evening when you decided to show me what I am really worth… I was willing to die for you. You were my everything and now I pray and hope that I never meet one as monstrous as you, ever again.
You were a bad dream and I hope I wake up tomorrow and you never even existed.

Fin?

2011-12-12T20:42:00.000-08:00

Why does it seem like this is the end?

I hoped this would last longer...

I was wrong... I guess.

Pic Courtesy: © vampire-zombie.deviantart.com

LOVE is ALL.

2011-12-08T05:30:00.000-08:00

I LOVE YOU.

NOTHING ELSE MATTERS.

PonnKaalam, PonnTamizh and my PonnDaatar :)

2011-11-28T04:25:00.000-08:00

A golden time has come... the rains lash across my homeland, filling the rivers to a full, brimming like never before... has the age of the plenty come back to reclaim its scorched plains and confused people?

Green seems to have taken over a brown that I was far too used to.

Tamilakkam shines... PonnTamizh is back... maybe it's time for another Sangam?

But has our thought become ripe-enough? Do we radiate self-actualisation like ripe mangoes perfume an orchard just before the mango showers?

Do our lips quiver with the need to spout beautiful words of heavenly sounding precision?

Do we tremble with anticipation of a chance to speak of wisdom and near-divine levels of literary perfection in thought and action?

Does our every action evoke the endless pregnant fields of the richly-watered flat valleys and the golden crops that sway to winds of the mositure-laden North-Eastern monsoons?

Have we finally reached that melting point of suffocation when expression in all its myriad forms burst forth in every possible medium we have come to represent with?

Or am I deviating from what really brings joy to my mind?

Do I see fruition in everything, only because my mind seems so full of vibrance and colour, that I feel like dancing, singing, floating... flying?

Listening to some wonderful verses in prose and poetry in a language as sweet as milk and honey, browned and caramelised by a rustic local culture that brings palpitations of a divine kind to my existence...

I am suddenly reminded that most of my joys come from finding love...

Love in it's all encompassing form...

Love that allows you to fight, to make-up, to rage, to calm, to have passion, to share compassion, to whisper, to shout, to smile, to frown, to cry, to laugh and most of all to care and be cared for...

The love for an identity, for a culture, for a people and for a civilization has just been equalled by the love for a person... and I am still left wondering... when the *^!@ did all of this happen?

Image courtesy: http://say2daffodil.blogspot.com :)

Raat Ka Nasha :P

2011-10-28T22:54:00.001-07:00

Every inch of me smells like you...
It's almost like I carry you with me...
In that smile, in that quick giggle...
In that distant glance, shiny and magical.

Last night hasn't left me, will you ever?

*smile* *blush*
*hides face*

Pic: ©Navdha Dhingra

Is it me, or is it you?

2011-10-24T00:44:00.000-07:00

It's like a cool waft of breeze has blown into my life... a breeze that perfumes my every waking and sleeping hour. A perfumed cool draft that wakes me up, puts me to sleep, holds me close when I feel unloved, embraces me in my weakness and teases me silly.

The way it fondles me, when I am slowly swirling into those self-indulging throes of ecstasy, the way it makes me want to cry and laugh as it whispers sweet nothings into my ear, the raspy vibrations that it streams through me, leaving me begging for more, and satiated at the least — this is my breeze of life.

Gently caressing me, reminding me of the fruity fragrances born in the land of spices, embalmed exquisitely with soft pleasant notes of sandal, burning camphor and jasmine, woven into all the lightness of the touch of a cloud or a feather — it makes me want to adorn myself, beautify my existence and believe in myself.

Is this what they call love — my breeze, my cool draft, my breath?

Or is this just you?

Photo Credit: © Saina Jayapal

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words

2011-10-23T21:25:00.000-07:00

I hope it was a calm, balmy night,
one drenched with that yellow light.
There's you two, close enough to bite;
to sore eyes like mine, what a sight!

Perched daintily atop one shiny metal beam,
your invisible eyes, reflect his gleam.
A scene so perfect, straight out of a dream,
oblivious to the world around, you two seem.

Arms resting on the beam, legs in a stationary dance,
a back bent towards him, eyes drinking him in with a glance.
Two shiny heads of darkest brown, yellow-gold halo, in a trance,
in the streets of of bang and bucks, an irreverent romance.

The green traffic signal in the background, says GO.
The palpable fire red passion, bounds does it know?
A signboard "WEAR HELMET", warns you of the foe;
And the all encompassing yellow, frames you, just so.

Felt like a not so gentle reminder, from up above,
that no matter what, men like me, can still love.

- Shreedhar Iyengar :)

Photo Credit: © Saina Jayapal

North of the Vindhyas — No chance!

2011-09-15T14:06:00.000-07:00

I'm thoroughly fed up answering a million queries as to why I am anti-North-Indian... and so I decided to instead write my logic down somewhere, so that tomorrow, just in case I suffer from a serious head injury and forget who I actually am, my blog shall remind me of my bias and my bias shall stay close to me, refuelling my anger and ideas — my precioussssssss!

But before I begin writing this orgasmic piece that will surely make me smile and jump in exhilaration in bits, let me be the ‘Indian’ diplomat and explain that — I am shamefully generalising and yes, I choose to do so...

I do not, never will and never have claimed that every North Indian is the same, so much so, some of my best friends are from the North — just that they are more evolved than I and often more than not, are much more broad-minded than I am.

I thank them for accepting me with all my annoying biases, but in the same breath, would like to remind them, that I am allowed to have said biases and indulge in them too. Much like they are allowed theirs.

Simply put — my biases define me to a huge extent, so deal with it!

LOGIC ABOVE ALL (It simms!)

I hate North India as an idea and I stand by every hateful word I utter with a vengeance, when I say this.

It’s not the people or their customs or their religions that annoy me... it is their identity, that they have chosen and created in the last few decades, that make me want to hate them.

Here’s a 5-point list that in-detail describes why my hatred is justified.

1) Language Issues:

India is a country with 28 states and 7 union territories and every single person who resides within these territories are as Indian as anybody else within these territories.

We might have a capital in New Delhi and Hindi might (as unfair and undemocratic as it might be) be the Official Language along with English — this however does not give anyone any legal or cultural authority to insist on the knowledge or usage of Hindi in any part of the country.

Our constitution quite clearly says that India has no National Language. What we do have is Hindi as our Official Language and English as a Subsidiary Official Language that can be used in lieu or with Hindi. We also have 22 Recognised Regional Languages that can be used in lieu of Hindi or English.

When the constitution so clearly states that we DO NOT have a National Language... it annoys me when people assume they have the right to question a person’s lack of knowledge or usage of Hindi.

It’s a free country — we’re allowed to use any of the recognised languages we might prefer to use!

More importantly, Hindi is a language native to the Ganga belt and so yes, speakers from there are naturally gifted to speak the language in all its subtle nuances and pronunciation anomalies.

Hoping and expecting people from other areas, with different native tongues, from different language groups to speak it like a native speaker is outright ridiculousness!

Furthermore, a person ridiculing someone for their regional accent in Hindi is uncalled for and illogical. You cannot force a new language down someone’s throat and then expect them to speak it as beautifully as you — that’s just common sense!

Of course you will bring up the Tamil issue and all I will say is read up. The Tamil issue was raised to counter the undemocratic proceedings of 1960.

Read: http://rajbhasha.nic.in/enpres-1960.htm

India did not need an Official Language from among the existing spoken languages. That is just undemocratic. An Indian version of a foreign language like English would have been fairer. It didn’t belong to anyone and none could claim it, not even the English!

2) Skin Colour Issues:

Indians who come from a Dravidic/Negroid/Austric or Austroloid racial origin tend to be darker skinned than people from Aryic/Mongoloid and Semitic strains. This is a fact, deal with it!

On the other hand India is so thoroughly mixed, that no one part of this country can claim to have pure racial origins from any one of these races.

We are a mixed people and we always have been. Often more than not, it has been geography and language that has united us, not the people we originally came from.

There will always be super fair South Indians and super dark North Indians and even though generalisations may be the norm, often more than not, you cannot judge a person’s origin by their colour.

I shall not demean the reader or myself by throwing around names... but it will suffice to say that some of our darkest models are often not from the South, while some of our fairest are not from the North.

And anyone with fairly unbiased tastes will vouch for me when I say; there can be good-looking dark people and ugly fair people.

3) Geography Issues:

This is one area that I refuse to be diplomatic about.

North Indians need to brush up on their geography. South Indian geography non-savants are as rare as two-headed snakes. Even more for the North-East!

The North-East has seven states, take time out and learn to recognise them on a map. Calling someone ‘Chinky’ is as racial as a North-Indian being called ‘Chom’! A Manipuri is not a Naga and a Naga is not a Khasi! A Khasi is not from Arunachal Pradesh and the Boros are a people. Getting yourself acquainted with your fellow Indians will not kill you.

The South of India is not one big state called Madras. Nor does everyone speak Tamizh. Half of South India is actually the two larger states of Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh. Kerala and Tamilnadu are the smaller two of the four states.

Be proud of being Indian, not just North Indian!

4) Accent Issues:

Exactly how not everyone in the North speaks fluent English, so don’t people in the South. Like how there is a proper accent for every area in the North, so do English accents change in the South. Neither is better than the other. They’re all equally creative and interesting.

Remember just because you were taught something in a particular way, it doesn’t make it right... English being a borrowed language in India can afford to have many rights.

I, for example have a stronger Scottish leaning in my spoken English, because missionaries in Western Tamilnadu were often from Scotland. The same can’t be said of Chennai where the educators were mostly English. Pondicherry similarly will have more French influences, while Goa will incline towards the Portuguese — the lesson being, stop assuming you are correct. Nobody ever truly is!

5) Identity Issues:

Yes, I am Indian, but no, I do not like Hindustani music. Yes, I am Indian, but I do not consider Kathak to be beautiful. Yes, I am Indian, but I am not inspired by couplets in Urdu and I am not that into Bollywood films.

I may not be like you, but I am Indian too. I am equally as Indian as you are.

India goes beyond the popular notion that India stands for. It pains me every time I am asked if I can speak Hindi because I am an Indian. Even worse is when Hindi is referred to when someone asks me if I can speak Indian...!

India does not equal Hindi or Hindi culture and thankfully never ever will. It’s about time people realised that. Yes, Hindi and the related culture is a huge chunk of our present common identity, but that’s not all of it. The rest of the states, their languages and cultures are equally Indian too!

To sum it all up, I hate what North Indians have become.

They have become the carriers of an oppressive culture unawares and are now taking pride in an assumed pseudo-superiority.

The problem however is that, for every North Indian who does not want to see beyond his borders, an Indian like me will redefine my borders without him.

This might seem like a small ego play in the beginning, but will soon rise into a huge secessionist movement that has already shown signs of arriving.

Let’s just hope India realises what went wrong and rectifies six decades worth of oppression or when the awakening comes, it might just be a tad too late.

The South Indian Gay Me :)

2011-08-20T14:56:00.001-07:00

“Panché Katti Kurraallalonee, Panchu Naaku Thelisochindi!” (I’ve come to know that the true ‘punch’ [virility] is in boys who wear the panché [dhoti]), go the lyrics of a very popular Telugu song that’s been my favourite for quite some time now.

Why do I like this song? Why do I want to bite my lower lip in a seductive manner, every time I hum this tune or sing these words? Am I a wannabe mass-song dancer whose dream is yet to be fulfilled or am I a ‘liberated’ woman (as portrayed in these movies), trapped in the body of an unwilling man? Or worse still, do I get so turned on by the idea of being so raw and sensually brazen when it comes to talking about a young man’s virility and his sexual prowess I want to violate every code of conduct?

Lots of thinking, intense speculation, deductions, paraphrasing and debates later, I realize I am none of these colourful people mentioned above — I am just a true, son of the soil South Indian, who loves being brash and really uncouth when it comes to matters of my colourful sexuality.

Do I love singing these songs or what! They are a part of my dosa-bred imagination and believe me when I say, that the most romantic thing I might call a lover is “Tent Kattuh Interval Murukkuh” (Possible Literary Transliteration: Your fried delicious savoury item that is my only accompaniment at a movie watched in a tent!) or even better, I might just ask him to build up his muscles like Suriya (Tamil movie poster boy) and grow a nice Singuh-Meesai (Lion Moustache) to satiate all my fantasies and fulfill his in return.

What is it about raw South Indian sensuality that makes it so damn good? This is possibly a question that will never be answered, but I’m sure you understand what I mean when one sees the scraggly unshaven look of Sendhil Ramamurthy as Suresh in Heroes and imagine far more devious things than what passes through my brain every time I see him. Or when one looks at Allu Arjun in all his porikki finesse, strip down to his bare minimum (Deshamuduru) or dress up to sinful indulgence perfection as he did in Arya 2. If only I could sink my teeth into those biceps, and I know you’re wishing for that too and so much more!

The South Indian man in all his dark perfection is the new sexual symbol. Be it the bulging goodness of John Abraham (who is Malayali), pun intended or the child-like innocence of the green-eyed Navadeep, South Indian men are the new hot things on the market and they’re selling like hot cakes for good reason.

We’ve been blessed with good looks and geographical features that make South Indians far more interesting looking than several of their plain faced Aryan counterparts. I’d happily have my fill with a Ganesh Venkataraman, a Karan Rao, a Diganth Manchalé, a Rana Daggubati, or a Naga Chaitanya any day, rather than pursue a supposedly more interesting Punjabi or Jat munda with the same skin tone. The choice is much wider down south anyway and the more particular you get, the more you have to choose from.

South Indian boys and men also seem to have the amazing capability to swing from elitist finesse to lose-all-inhibitions-rawness at the drop of the hat. That surely is a talent worth appreciating and it comes so naturally to most of us. Some of them switch so fast, that most people are caught blissfully unaware of this role change and are often left confused and delirious.

Is it still a surprise why my preferences are so biased? It’s almost like I know that I’m getting so much more even though I bargained for so much lesser! Why wouldn’t I be the happy(er) customer, pray tell? Let’s also not forget how hard it actually could be to refuse being attracted to the child-like innocence of a Vijay or the incontrollable manliness of a Vikram! Are you still in doubt?

I hope you aren’t, because it’s time for my daily ritual of worshipping my South Indian demi-gods. I need to concentrate and relish each utterance and movement, for only then will the gods be pleased with my devotedness. If you are as strong a believer as me, then hop onto the bandwagon and the next time you see a fabulous looking South Indian walk by, ensure you let him know you totally adore him. You’ll be earning karma and loads of kama in the bargain. Be assured. Experience speaks. I need to go now, the next pretty thing aka hunk I adore is on TV, and my ritual of drooling, lusting and wanting begins — feel free to join me any time. Lines are always open.

Safe and warm, finally!

2011-08-04T14:50:00.000-07:00

Broad shoulders, deep dark questioning eyes, a voice I love listening to and intelligence, a sense of humour and the wonderful gift of listening — everything I thought impossible to find in just one man. And here you are. Proving all my pre-conceived notions wrong, giving me the hope that I always wanted.

You’re everything that I could have imagined Mr. Perfect to be and yet, I know fully well, that you will never be mine.

Yes, you are straight... I know... and one small minute part of me rejoices that you are. If you were gay and didn’t choose me, I might have had no hope to believe in anymore.

I can flirt with you because you are straight and you probably think it’s really cute of me to be so shamelessly throwing myself at you — it probably is!

All I want to know is, am I wrong to want to be embraced by you? Am I wrong to have watched you while you slept beside me, punishing my heart for wanting to hold you and run my fingers through your hair? Am I wrong to want you so much, when you are the ONLY man in this whole world to have ever made me feel safe?

Why do you hug me so all-encompassing-ly? Am I wrong to hope for you to turn gay from every single conscious corner of my living soul? Am I wrong to wish I was the kind of woman you would want to be with?

Wanting to be with you has rekindled the vulnerable me and in the warmth of your ample, beautiful long neck and wonderfully shaped torso, I hope to bury my face, my love, my insecurities and my burdens that I have come to call life.

So what if I can never make love to you?

If one day I can hold you and shamelessly show you how much I care, and be held by you, like no other, as my body melts into a warm indulged pulp — I would have seen paradise and hence I shall die peacefully.

My Birthday Wish-List 2011 :)

2011-07-26T15:12:00.000-07:00

Yaah! So apparently it’s my 25th Birthday on Thursday and like every year, I am sure a lot of you wonderful people are breaking your head as to what I would like as a birthday gift...

For starters, I don’t really care, as long as there is some sense of utility to what’s being given... The ONLY thing I wouldn’t appreciate would be things like flasks and items that would probably look bearable ONLY in a showcase...

I would however much deeply appreciate items of gifting like such...

1) Fabindia — Dupattas and Kurtas... please be my guest. I like really long Dupattas and I wear Kurta Size 40.

2) Anything from Body Shop, excluding bath/shower gels... as I do not use them.

3) Books — preferably non-fiction, LGBTI literature of Fantasy fiction.

4) Anything made from Handloom or Khadi or of extremely Natural origin.

5) An MP3 player. I like Sony :)

6) Perfume.

7) Something that reminded you of me.

8) Regional DVDs... Ensure I do not already have them though :)

9) The whole of Will&Grace. All seasons.

10) A date with someone awesome. I get to decide how awesome they are. Period.

Do not however feel obliged to get me anything, as I am cool with absolutely nothing — quite content with just your warm wishes :)

Thank You,

The Quarter-Century-Old-To-Be,

Me :)

आपको पाया, तो क्यूं? ♥

2011-06-23T19:12:00.000-07:00

♥♥♥♥♥

सजदे किये हैं लाखों, लाखों दुआएं मांगी, पाया हैं मैंने फ़िर तुझे...

चाहत की तेरी मैंने, हक़ में हवाएं मांगी, पाया हैं मैंने फ़िर तुझे...

जिस पल ना चाहा तुझको, उस पल सज़ाएं मांगी, पाया हैं मैंने फ़िर तुझे...

उठ उठ के रातों को भी, तेरे वफ़ाएं मांगी, पाया हैं मैंने फ़िर तुझे...

ख़ुद को मिटाया मैंने, तेरी भलाएं मांगी, पाया हैं मैंने फ़िर तुझे...

चाहे तो चाहे मुझको, ऐसी अदाएं मांगी, पाया हैं मैंने फ़िर तुझे...

♥♥♥♥♥

Questions I’d like to ask today.

2011-05-08T14:20:00.000-07:00

Lunch at Coorg + Ice Cream at Wily Vanilli + Accidental, yet much enjoyed Mall darshan + Early dinner + Onir Anirban’s I AM = Happy Mother on Mother’s Day :)
Today was Mother’s Day, a day I always hoped that would be celebrated the most, for after all, what are any of us, without our mothers?

Korean dicktease TV series’ + An ex who has no shame and gives haath every single time! + A crazy Japanese TV series that has me believing in second chances.
Why is it always ‘complete reality’ or ‘complete fantasy’ in my life?

Watched ‘I AM’ and sorry Onir Anirban, but Harish Iyer’s story was way better without you meddling with it. Glad you made the movie all the same.
Now, why do I hope so much from a movie that I know is going to just be average in the first place? And why can I never really connect with the character of a gay man who faces harassment? I mean I was gay too, before 377, no? So why wasn’t I harassed? Was I that good at hiding something, I never meant to hide?

You’re hot. You’re throwing yourself at me. You find it easier to crack jokes on how you know I want you and yet you play dumb, also unzipping your fly without me even asking for it? DICKTEASE!
Why do I find straight, and funnily, available men, hot?

You say you like me. That’s what we discussed no? On that wonderfully comfortable sofa in the house of that guy who also claims to like me so much? Yet, you also say, you can never be friends with people you are attracted to, so wait... You aren’t attracted to me? What does ‘like me’ mean again? Come on, we both know you really aren’t the type who chooses intellectual over brawn!
Who are you? Why do you suddenly matter? Yes, I know your second name, so what? You’re the biggest dicktease I know? No wait, you have competition?

So will you die if you look at me? I have dealt with your hatred for far too long! What did I even do?
Why do butch lesbian women despise me and transgender queens mother me in equal passion?

You kiss so well. You’ve set my gaydar off every single time I’ve met you. Rumours abound on how you are an arse-stealer... YET!
Why is Rahul Bose not out yet, I mean, we all know he’s gay, right?

YOU deserve so much more.

2011-05-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

Thank you for reminding me that I am human.

Just when I began assuming that my life was finally going places, you came in and offered love to me — true love, unadulterated and without any complications — your heart, pure, sweet and lovely on a silver shaky platter — and I chose to walk away.

I am a monster. I hate myself.

I can’t look at myself in the mirror anymore, because I am doing what I promised I would never do to someone else. I promised to never hurt someone who loved me and there I was, hurting you — you deserved so much more, so much more. You deserved me a few years ago. You deserve someone who could love you, like you love(d) me — unquestioning, eccentric and hopeful.

I wish, I could love you without meeting you. I wish, I could give you my all, without even knowing where things could go. I wish, I was still the romantic I was at 16, trusting in every promise that was rolled out of a willing tongue. I wish, I could love you for who you are and not what I want you to be. I wish, I wasn’t such a hypocrite!

But, I am not 16 and I am not untouched and I am not unhurt. My baggage refuses to let me take uninhibited steps. To fall in love with you, without ever meeting you, demanded too much of me. I couldn’t even manage to imagine what life with you would be like. I feared, falling out of love, before I even truly fell in.

I am still to blame. And you are still the good one. I hope you forgive me and meet me someday, and I hope, I am less confused then. I hope it all works out and magic happens and everything clicks then.

If it doesn’t — I’ll know I wasn’t worth you.

I’m still meeting you for your Birthday. I’m no present wrapped in glittery paper, but I’ll at least prove to you how much you’re worth — way more than this pitiable writer, who has lost all faith in his ability to love, unquestioning.

I will always love you.

♫ All those days watching from the windows... All those years outside looking in... All that time never even knowing... Just how blind I’ve been...

Now I’m here, blinking in the starlight... Now I’m here, suddenly I see... Standing here, it’s all so clear... I’m where I’m meant to be...

And at last I see the light... And it’s like the fog has lifted... And at last I see the light... And it's like the sky is new... And it’s warm and real and bright... And the world has somehow shifted... All at once everything looks different... Now that I see you...

All those days chasing down a daydream... All those years living in a blur... All that time never truly seeing... Things, the way they were...

Now he’s here shining in the starlight... Now he’s here, suddenly I know... If he’s here it’s crystal clear... I’m where I’m meant to go...

I am someone’s reality. sigh :)

2011-05-01T03:15:00.000-07:00

Nobody has ever written a rhyme or verse for me...

And recently Shruthi Rao did. So, while I know it’s a little too much self-obsession,
hey, it doesn’t happen all that often...

I had a dream
Of ice cream and singing
Of Tamil movies
With Romal laughing

And why wouldn’t he?
Because that’s what he is
Happiness personified
The image of utter bliss

I kept thinking
What is his secret?
Neither would he worry
Nor would he fret

All thoughts aside
We spent the whole day
Doing silly things
That indeed, made my day

It was a nice dream
One I’d remember for all eternity
And then I woke up and realized
Romal is my reality :)

Wonderfully beautiful YOU.

2011-04-30T13:44:00.000-07:00

♫ I feel the earth move under my feet, I feel the sky tumbling down, tumbling down... I feel my heart start to tremble, whenever you’re around... Ooh, baby, when I see your face, mellow as the month of May... Oh, darling, I can't stand it, when you look at me that way... ♫

I’ve always wondered what drew me to you. You weren’t like anyone I’ve fallen for before. You were GAY and that’s a surprise enough in itself. For someone who always found straight men irresistibly attractive and often ended up with one — you were a breath of fresh air. A hope that one day I could possibly end up with a gay man.

I adore the way you doubt yourself. The way you try to not let me get close to you. I like how we’re both afraid of falling and I love how chemistry seems to always screw up our lives and show us both the middle finger.

You make me want to become a man you would find attractive and I’m sure I’m on that path. Maybe you will find true love in a form that pleases you, by the time I’m ready to offer myself to you — I fear that in every inch of a changing body. Yet, I am confident, that my love for you shall prevail.

I shall be yours one day and you shall be mine and even if that doesn’t come to pass — I shall be at peace knowing that I have loved you, with all my heart, every passing moment, from when I first set eyes on the new wonderfully beautiful you.

I LOVE YOU.

:: ♫ You and I left our troubles far behind, troubles far behind... but I still have just one more question on my mind... for all my pals who live in the oceans and the seas... with friends like these well, who needs enemies? ♫ ::

Circles.

2011-03-25T23:43:00.000-07:00

Naan: You who I hold special above all others...
I hope you are fine?
I hope your wounds have healed?
I hope you have found peace in your pain...
I hope you have found joy in your loneliness...

Nee: You who I hold beautiful beyond all others...
I hope you know that nothing is the same?
Ever since I’ve parted ways from you...
My mind speaks of but one dilemma...
Do I show the world my tears?
Or do I save my face and cry into my pillow?

Naan: You who I hold special above all others...
I hope you know that I am trying to force?
My mind to believe that I hate you...
My body, once proud is now shamed...
Do I let you tear me in half again?
Or do I fight true feelings and stay apart from you?

Nee: Can’t a garland be recreated with new flowers?
Naan: Can new knots be tied into a scarred auspicious sacred thread?
Nee: Won’t life be like a circle and start off again where we foolishly ended it?
Naan: Won’t life be like a circle and end again where we foolishly start it?

Nee: You who I hold special above all others...
I hope you are fine?
I hope your wounds have healed?
I hope you have found peace in your pain...
I hope you have found joy in your loneliness...

Thodargiradhuh...

let go.

2011-03-19T12:15:00.000-07:00

I let go.
Yesterday.
I now realise.
Was my fault.
I now let go.
You are who you want to be.
You are not who you are.
Who are you, to you?
Who are you, to me?
They’re different people.
You don’t want to be who you are to me.
I am no one to make you; you as you are to me.
I am sorry.
Maybe I finally understand dualities.
I now withdraw.
I let go.

‘It just happened to me’

2011-03-12T05:36:00.000-08:00

Bangalore girl and theatre artiste Jahnavi Kamath stumbled into films quite just-by-chance, but she’s now convinced that she’s here to stay…

L Romal M Singh

She has always been noticed for her beautiful eyes and ever since she was first seen on stage in college, experts in the field knew this young pretty thing would make it big. Jahnavi Kamath has come a long way from being a theatre artiste to an actress with a film each in Kannada and Tamil and several more projects being lined up...

When did you know you wanted to be an actor?

I have always wanted to be in entertainment, it’s just that over the years my interests have changed from being a VJ, to dancing, to being a part of theatre troupes and then acting just happened. I was in college when I performed for the first time in a huge production that involved more than a hundred actors. I was however given a prominent role and also was cast in the successive performance that was staged the very next year. It was then I knew I loved theatre and decided to be an actor.

So how did you decide to take on acting as a career?

I enrolled in an acting school in Mumbai right after I graduated with a Bachelors degree in Journalism from Bangalore. The course was amazing. It taught me to understand the smallest and most important nuances of acting. I was also readied for the camera and I am thankful for that.

Did the offers start pouring in straightaway?

Not really. I returned to Bangalore and began working with several theatre groups, before my first offer came. It was a Kannada film called Chitrana?. The film is complete but is the release is delayed for reasons unknown to me. The role as the female protagonist was amazing, especially since this was my first.

And then Kollywood?

Surprisingly so! Someone from the crew of Chitrana? referred me to the producer of the Tamil film. This being Ramesh’s debut as a director and my debut (technically) in a Tamil film, it all seemed to work out fine. The lead male actor Dileep also debuts in this film.

Tell us more about the film…

The film has been titled Puthiya Kaaviyam and the shooting was mostly around Mettur in Salem and Chennai. Being a rural themed film, I play a village girl who’s extremely happy with life and college-going. I am the romantic angle to the film, as I am the love interest in Dileep’s characters’ life. The film revolves around him and how he saves his village. I guess that’s all I can reveal right now. The film should be out in May.

City girl to village belle, wasn’t that hard?

Not really. I grew up in Bangalore, yes, but I also lived and holidayed in Mangalore for a long time. My father owns a farmhouse there, that’s quite within the environs of a village, so village life is no new thing to me. Also, I’ve never really been a proper city girl.

Any more offers?

Yes, I have one more film that I have accepted in Tamil again, this time with a debut director called Balan. This film will be opposite Dileep again, and will be a rural themed film, where I play the role of a more independent and assertive woman.

So, will it be just films and more films now?

Definitely not! I will take on more plays whenever I find something interesting, because, let’s face it… real acting is only on stage! I will also continue to model when assignments come my way. I love films but it’s never going to be my only passion.

‘I was born to dance’

2011-03-12T05:11:00.000-08:00

He’s beautiful in body, mind and soul and this description is something that anyone who knows him will readily agree with. Charles Ma has come a long way from being a college dance-team choreographer to a full-fledged student and performer of the art of Bharatanatyam, and in less than two years, he has travelled through the long journey of being a teacher, a student, a questioner and a re-discoverer of an art that he holds very dearly to his heart.

“Life is a celebration and I’ve come to know that I celebrate it through Bharatanatyam,” Charles tells me as I catch up with him, after his year-long hiatus. “I’ve been in Chennai, re-learning an art form that I think — now looking at the past — I took for granted,” he says.

Studying a completely new style for someone so deeply rooted in the Kalakshetra baani can be quite trying, but Charles has come to love the nuances and complexities of his new obsession — the Vazhuvoor style.

“It feels great as I feel this complete transformation surging through me. Relearning an art form, with the passion for the new, much like a fresh student has helped me come to terms with a lot of insecurities and obstacles that were running me down as a performer, a year ago,” Charles shares.

“I am now a deeper person, more comfortable with me and my art and with a new strange sense of wisdom that is gained only when one offers ones self completely to an art. Everything else takes second place in a hierarchy of importance, sometimes even me — but it feels right and I am at peace, which is all that matters,” he adds.

Charles will be performing as a part of the Karnataka Nrityakala Parishath’s Natarajotsava — 2011 celebrations and so I ask him what Nataraj, as the 'Lord of the Dance' means to him, personally.

“I come from a family that’s Christian in this generation, but my grandmother was a Shaivite, and I think the love for Nataraj or Shiva comes from there. I look at him as Niraguna Parabramha, and thus I see him in everything and everywhere. It has been hard to come to terms with two often opposing faiths — but I have found my balance and that’s where my faith lies,” he signs off.

Pic Credit ©Madhu Shweta, 2009

guava — the common man.

2011-03-10T14:05:00.000-08:00

The world around me crumbles into small spots of nothingness, much like the flavour of guava that caught my attention, intriguing and boring me in cyclic repetitions as I tried the ‘brand’ new flavour of frozen yoghurt at the ‘around-the-corner’ much favoured fro-yo bar. So much for indigenous tastes!

The flavour was spotty and I am not trying to be ‘gastronomically deep’ when I say this. I could actually only taste the subtle crappy flavours of guava and vanilla (if that’s what the rest of it tasted like) in spots. So, why did I have it? Well, that’s as simple a question as why am I gay? — I don’t know, being the shortest, least rude and most apt answer, ever!

Moving onto nothingness —no, I am not trying to randomly use ‘ness’ suffixed words, though most anglophiles would readily agree at the prettiness of a ‘ness’ word. I meant nothingness because; the treat apparently had no ‘bad’ yummy things and reminded me of how my life was becoming — Safe. Sanitized. Secure. Sad.

I miss doing things at whim. Jumping into buses at tandem random! Making out with a complete stranger (yes, I have been slutty {subjective}, at times, only!)... Falling for someone pretty on the road and then pursuing them... falling in love... falling out of love... falling... free falling... I wished I was a fallen angel sometime ago. Being good can be such a bore!

Straight men are anything but straight. They’re often devious little, super-gorgeous, super-twisted, super-narcissistic men, who for some reason, find me, in all my gay-disapproved-boring-ness, perfect as their object of affection. Now, I am not complaining, I do enjoy every inch... did I just say inch, of course not, I meant bit... every bit of their attention, but their genuineness (Ha-ha! one more!) often leaves me wishing they were not-so-straight!

If you aren’t into men, why do I so entice you? Or do you consider me a woman? That doesn’t embarrass me in anyway, but if I am a woman in your eyes, then why can’t you date a woman, a real one, vagina-breasts-mammary glands included? Why me?

Now, don’t get me wrong! I adore you guava straight man, interesting in bits, and boring otherwise, who agree you find gay men interesting — but why make me go weak in the knees, why flirt, why throw yourself at me, and then withdraw, only because the game suddenly dawns into your reality. You guava men! You are a lame excuse for a fruit!

I’ve been playing this game for eight years and maybe now, maybe now, maybe now, finally... I give up! Nothingness guava flavoured fro-yo for me, any day! The real fruits can go and become a part of somebody else’s fruit salad.

Goodhals in the head! :(

2011-03-09T16:03:00.000-08:00

I call you and I hate the fact that I can’t say I love you! Every single song reminds me of you, of memories that could have been shared or were imagined with you. And yet today, we’re still nowhere. Why do I love you so much? Why can’t I do without you? I have tried. A lot! Yet every soulful Rehman composition makes me want to be with you. I despise you for not being with me. For messaging me; for having a voice that makes me nothing short of orgasm and for being so far away. Most of all I love hating you for not being gay. Or was it hate loving you?

©Bibash Photography, 2010

The Simple Superstar

2011-03-07T09:20:00.000-08:00

If you don’t know Wilbur, you are a waste! At least that’s what desi netizens of today’s Bangalore feel! We catch up with the virally popular and super hilarious Wilbur Sargunaraj.

You may not know him, you may not like him, but you definitely can’t ignore him.

Quality. First Class. Sargunaraj Trademark — screams the bright yellow logo that usually announces Wilbur Sargunaraj, who has arrived and is here to stay.

A son of the soil Tamil boy from Madurai in Tamilnadu, Wilbur moved to Canada around five years ago and began recording in his insanely popular style of humour-based rap-like songs, that revel in the madness of ‘being local’.

In less than four years, he achieved viral popularity on the internet and even released his self-titled first album — Wilbur Sargunaraj. With his subversive style of poking fun at oneself to show one’s confidence, he has stolen the hearts of millions across the world and is now finally, in namma Bangalore.

We’ve all figured that you’re from Tamilnadu, but where exactly is this Tamil’s ‘natyive’ place?

My ‘natyive’ is in several places. I am partly from Tenkasi, but also from Tirunelveli and my dad’s actual home is a small ooru (village) called Surandai. But I grew up all over India. As a child I was in Darjeeling for a year and then in Kolkata for half a year and then we finally moved to Madurai and in between I was in Ooty too. I speak Hindi also. Mujé Indi Maalum Ae, Apun Ko Kya Samajtha Hai, Baaisaab? (In a faux bad Hindi accent)

When did you realise you wanted to sing in your unique and particular style?

I have always wanted to perform in the style that comes most naturally to me and when I moved to Canada, it began just as an experiment. In no time, it was an internet hit and fans started cropping up everywhere. I now have so many fans globally that I need to work out of Chennai and Toronto. This has made me a vagabond, and I enjoy how much I get to travel to meet people who like my work and my sound.

Do you have a background in music?

Yes, I do. I have always been interested in percussion and drums and I’ve even been all the way to Cuba to learn the native style of percussion there. I also studied mridangam for a while, when I was in Madurai.

So how did the Sargunaraj style evolve?

See, many people think I am making a mockery of who I am and compare me to Borat and the likes. What they don’t see is that, unlike Borat, I make fun of my own culture with a hope of celebrating and sharing it, not mocking it and being vulgar. I have a message — the message of being proud of who you are and where you’re from, irrespective of what economic, cultural, intellectual or educational background you come from.

It’s a socially oriented message then?

Of course! I am trying to represent rural India, or at least the rural India I know, in the most real form that I can. Issues like arranged marriages are still a huge problem for the young there and even though my songs may not always have a social message, they at least speak of a sentiment that rings true to that area. I want to use my music as a medium to give these people a voice. Once that is done, I also want to be able to serve these people, which is why I’ve partnered with so many social causes.

What about your own cause, any hope of a love marriage?

There is a song in my new album called Annie Rose and that is a dedication to this girl I met when I was really young. It’s been 25 years since I met her and even though I knew her for a very short time, like that only love happened. She moved away and ever since I have been searching for my Annie Rose. One of the last songs in the new album is based on her. Love is a feeling, this song is that feeling.

The new album seems to have a lot on offer, tell us more?

I have always wanted to do much more than singing, which is why I even made a video on how foreigners should use the Indian toilet. In my new album I have a song that describes in a fun-way how foreigners can interpret what Indians really mean when we shake our head in a particular manner. The song is called Shake the head.

Anymore tracks to look forward to in the new album?

Simple Superstar — which already seems to be a hit. Then there's Vaigai Express No 2635 — which is the name of the train that runs between Chennai and Madurai and is my first song that will feature one deadly dabaangkoothu beat. And then there's Super mobile — which is about a super mobile phone. The album will also feature an extra CD that will contain my other older hits like Love Marriage, Chicken 65, Cobra Cobra and Cricket.

You performed in Chennai earlier this week, how was the reaction?

It was amazing. It felt so amazing to be performing in my homeland and soon after the performance; I was amazed at the responses from the city. People kept calling, offering film music contracts and asking me to perform in their projects — it was humbling!

What do you expect from the crowd in Bangalore?

I perform there on Tuesday for the first time and I am overwhelmed at the response I am already getting. Bangalore will always be special as I have always had a loyal set of fans in the city from the very inception. What I have missed from crowds across the globe is an energy and a fun-loving spirit that matches my own. I am almost always the only one still dancing and being enthusiastic by the end of a performance. I hope the Bangalore crowd will break this curse and out-do me with their energy. I’ve heard so much about the city’s party crowd, that I am super excited to finally meet them.

Illustration Courtesy: Nithin Rao Kumblekar, ©Nithin Rao Kumblekar

A ‘week’ness of yes and weakness of no.

2011-02-20T16:51:00.000-08:00

Just when you think all is lost and there’s nothing that can ever go right, life comes, bitch slaps you in the face and tells you that she’s not such a heartless sadist after all.

A week ago, I was convinced that I had everything working against me — a break up (at least that’s what everyone’s calling it) with a best friend; the re-inclusion of an old lover into my private circle, the consequent online fight and the final realisation that he was, as always assumed, just a small little spoilt child, who wanted to be the centre of all misfortunes and couldn’t and I repeat COULDN’T stand, afford and ever allow anything good to ever happen to him; the ignorance from someone much loved that even included, but not just, cutting my calls, not replying my messages and several anonymous hate mails posted here and there. Life, simply put, was being a bitch with me again.

And then came this week, which started on a brand new, almost Harpic clean smelling freshness, nauseating to the old timer persecuted, but new, or at least, new for now. First, a meeting with said best friend, that went really well, in the company of several shared friends, of course, for such is the misfortune of the friend(ed) in a city like Bangalore. Then, an even cooler plan to visit a musical festival, probably the biggest ever yet, where major bonding happened with said friend and several others and then to top it all off a message from said ex-lover, which spoke in the warmest tones and immediately resulted in a return call. “I am not under the influence of anything, I just wanted to talk to you” — and I knew it was all right again. The crowning glory of goodness however was a superb calendar that was gifted to me, consisting of various semi-nude and highly erotic images of my biggest celeb-crushes and various other homo-erotically charged photos, given to me, to keep me from turning ‘asexual’. I love you, my calendar giver and believe me, I am trying...

Let’s hope the coming week has much and such promises for me, considering that post Valentine’s Day, I am convinced a special someone else is also really important in my life. Baby crush, yes! Major crush, no! Potential compatibility, highly unlikely! Love... well, let’s leave that for time to decide now...

Pic Courtesy: Saina Jayapal

Me, you and the prospective third

2011-02-13T00:48:00.000-08:00

Bangalore’s young are experimenting and how! This Valentine’s several young bisexuals will date both their partners and we comment on the trend.

They say you measure the changes in society by how the young behave and this is definitely true when it comes to the young in our city and their perspectives on love. A few years ago, you wouldn’t have ever come across young parents being open to the alternative sexualities of their children, but as Shalini Anant, a clinical psychologist who works with a lot of homosexual and bisexual people, points out, “times are indeed changing, and lots of parents are quite ‘cool’ with the whole idea.”

This year, keeping with the trend, a lot of young bisexual Bangaloreans are all set to ask out both their partners, take them both out on dates, and in some cases, even date them together.

“I’ve been extremely open with my girlfriend about the fact that I have a gay man in my life,” says Aakash, an 18 year old. “We’ve spoken about it a lot, and she’s quite open to the fact that I’m also seeing him,” he adds.

This Valentine’s Aakash plans on taking Neha out for a movie, after which he hopes to; take both Neha and Kishore (the boyfriend) for dinner later, where they will meet in person for the first time.

Roger, 23 and Fiona, 22 are still in love, even when almost a month ago, Fiona told Roger about Swathi, 22 her college friend, who she’s been intimate with for quite a few years. At first, Roger assumed that his biggest fantasy had come true, but when the reality set in, he was quite shocked. “We had to speak about it for a really long time, and we almost broke up. It took me a long time to realise that nothing really changed. We’d remain the same,” Roger shares.

“I guess, it took some time, for him to accept the fact that there will always be another someone, even if it was a woman, in my life, and now he’s fine with it. I’m planning to take them both on a short trip with me to Mysore this Valentine’s and my fingers are crossed. I just hope they get along really well,” Fiona adds.

Prasad, 24 was always interested in women, that’s till he met Zayed. Funnily enough, Zayed was a school friend of Shweta’s — Prasad’s girlfriend of five years. “I always knew Zayed was hot, and I’m surprised I didn’t fall for him myself, but that Prasad would be attracted to him, was something I wasn’t prepared for. I knew Zayed was gay, but Prasad always seemed so straight, sometimes painfully so. He hit on all my friends,” Shweta tells us.

“It took me a while to accept them and I won’t lie, I did want to castrate Prasad at some point of time. But when it meant so much to him, that he even chose to come out clean about it, I knew I had to make the decision. Zayed might just be the fun, we both need, I hope,” Shweta adds.

Shweta hopes to make things work out between the three of them, by taking Prasad and Zayed out on a double dinner date today.

Ajay, 17, has always been attracted to men, that’s till he fell in love with Shraddha, 18, his classmate. “It all seemed fun, till Rahul walked in. He was the man of my dreams and better still was interested in me. We first began hooking up, all through last year, leaving Shraddha out of it. But, Rahul felt that Shraddha should know. He told her a month or so ago, and she broke up with me. I still love her though, and I know it’s not all about Rahul.”

Rahul has organised a date between Ajay and Shraddha on Valentine’s and hopes Shraddha sees the duality of Ajay’s love as clearly as he sees it.

“It’s hard to say where young people are influenced from these days, but the times are definitely changing. Some of them might just be doing it, because it’s ‘in’, while some of them might actually be experimenting with their sexual identities. What stands out however is that when someone’s sexually interested in a person, they’re also friends, and hence they really want to make things work out — even losing out on the much wanted commitment in the bargain. The barter makes sense and I guess that’s how these relationships work,” shares Shalini Anant, clinical psychologist.

Vikram Prabhu, consulting psychiatrist, has seen this happening over the last few years, but is skeptical about how these relationships fare with passing time. “Most relationships are made on the need for filial affiliation. Commitment is of grave importance. While it all may seem amazing at first, things might change over time. That however, does not mean that there choices have to be made. There are quite a few bisexual people who live with this duality of feelings all through their life, but most give in and choose one over the other. Several others are just experimenting and will soon discover what they really want.”

Irrespective of whether these relationships work or not, however society is surely seeing changes and Suparna Khar, sociologist, confirms this. “Identities and how the individual and society at large perceives them are transforming everyday. Sexual identity is slowly being defined by its fluidity and experimentation, even in a country like ours. Alternative sexualities are more accepted, and that is just a reflection of changing societies. It’s easier for someone to be bisexual now, more than ever before. Is this a new trend? Well, if we look at ourselves from a colonial perspective, then yes, else, it’s just a return, almost like a cycle of the sexual ideals we Indians had in the ages past, which is probably why the idea doesn’t seem so foreign to us.”

(Names have been changed on request)

The edited version has been published in TOI, BT, dated 14/02/2011

Will we ever stop loving?

2011-01-29T03:57:00.000-08:00

I call you and you’ve changed your caller tune to mine, again… and you still say you don’t care?

Yet, all you ever ask is if I’ve forgotten you…

How could I ever? That would be like forgetting me. Forgetting what I hold most dearly — my happiest times, my most sensuous self — me in love with you.

Everyone seems to see that we’re meant for each other, while we play long elongated games, trying to prove that we can have options.

You know you want me and yet you act like you don’t… I know I want you and hide myself under sheets of self-doubt, for fear of rejection… all over again… It’s always going to be a yes and a no, a yes and no and a yes and a no… with you.

And yet, here you are again. Here is that time again, when you will be in my arms soon and all I can think about is you… Your voice, your heavy breath that always somehow manages to find itself to my super sensitive neck… You’re prickly stubble that leaves me bruised and super-content every single morning… You’re wonderful taut body, which leaves me feeling protected, empowered, submissive, dominative, and several such beautifully contradictory feelings all at once… Here am I in that moment again, where I wish it had always lasted, wishing that I could fall asleep around that familiar scent and wake up to your beautiful raspy ‘good mornings’…

I cannot get enough of you, and neither can you of me, so why are we still at this?

You were.

2011-01-02T04:49:00.000-08:00

Looking at this picture.
I taste a thousand feelings.
You were a sensuous delight and I miss you.

Scratchy on my face. Prickly pear, you were.
Prettiest eyes a boy could have. Prettier than most, you were.
The smell of something alive. Turning on mostly, you were.

As thin as a broomstick and gnawy.
Yet — virile — passionate and demanding, you were.
A joy to gaze at while asleep. A whole lot of fun awake, you were.
Love and energy you gave. The biggest emotional energy stealer, you were.
Thief of the heart, mind and soul. The giver-back always, you were.
Perfect in every inexplicable rhyme. My singer of love songs, you were.
Sharer of midnight snacks. The only one I wanted, you were.
The ever-existent bedroom voice. Always sexy when broken, you were.
The challenger of everything nice. The bringer of an indulgent evil in me, you were.
Carefree, youthful and mindless. Incomparably the hottest and sexiest, you were.
Pushing limits was your preferred game. Though loving and caring, you always were.

I wonder why it was always destined to never work out.

Cringe = Pain = Change (?)

2011-01-01T11:08:00.000-08:00

Sitting and listening to a remixed version of Muthuswami Dikshithar’s Rangapura Vihara, sung beautifully by the angelic sounding Nithyashree Mahadevan, as I try to ignore the pain in my neck, literally!

Why would? Why should? Why would someone who claims to not be into you, jump on you, like a ravenous beast, the moment you are left in solitude with him? And like that’s not confusing enough, why would he leave so many painful scars on you, that you’re left pained and guilt-ridden for the rest of eternity?

For now, the scars of a few hours of passion feel so heavy on me, that I wish I could get myself a new skin. I wish I was a snake, able to slither out of my old skin whenever it got too old. Also, I would be naturally endowed with self protecting venom that would keep away the evil-intending...

The music heals for a while and then that nerve twitches from having been almost fed on, blood-clotted and tired from far too much pressure. Love-bites, if they can be called that, were never this irritating!

Looking around I see a million new resolutions, some palpable, some wishful thinking and some downright stupid! I can only hope I heal soon. From the inside and the out! All I seem to want for now is options. Options that are worth the taking...

Little paws jump up precariously onto my desktop and a pair of effervescent eyes look down at me. Sometimes I wish I could be a cat.

Pretty. Nine Lives. Sleep. Free Food. Adored by half the planet. Natural predisposition to being unimaginably cute — still wondering why?

We blink and flirt with each other and I remember speaking to the new ‘him’ yesternight. Could anyone else be more beautiful? I have found my kitten of a love in a human — let’s hope he swings my way and there’s a happily ever after :)

Pic © Joseph Sayers, 2004

page turning time?

2010-12-29T11:23:00.000-08:00

Why do I want this move?
Like everyone else wants to assume,
Is it just me escaping?
Then, why does it feel so right?
When did escaping feel so right?
Never, no?

I know I need it.
I love what I have,
But I’m afraid what I have,
As always,
Loves me not...
Not in the way I want it to,
At least!

Cravings for a new beginning,
Just when the world is celebrating ends,
Is something that should be allowed?
For someone like me, for sure...
Else, hope might just dry out.
I’m doing the right thing.
I think so. ... ? ... !

Happy Birthday Chandrudu :)

2010-12-01T13:45:00.000-08:00

A picture that paints a myriad thousand colours...
All thanks to your incomparable incomprehensible self!
And today as you turn as old as me, even older?
You are in deed and mind, much older! Somebody, HELP!

I like the way you see positives everywhere...
When my world is all black, bleak and grey!
And even though I hate them in-betweens...
With you, somehow, surprisingly, I’m fine and OK!

What celestial juncture was it, when you were born?
Which stars contributed to your sweetness praline?
For as you grow, stronger, sharper and wiser...
You seemed to be maturing like a bottle of good wine.

I wonder why we never got to know each other...
When we were in college and could have defined...
For you could be my brother from another mother...
Or you the hope I've always looked for; much refined.

Happy Birthday Chandrudu :)

Pic © Aishwarya Kannan, 2010

I AM ‘QUEER’. GET USED TO ME.

2010-11-28T12:25:00.000-08:00

You’re not my type.
I don’t think I want this now.
You’re too good for me.
I think we want different things in life.

Why do you have your hair long?
Do you want to be a woman?
Why don’t you just lose some weight?
How can he dress like that?

Nobody will like you if you look like this!
Get those teeth fixed!
You’re too smart!
I like MEN!

You really think you’re the cat’s whiskers, no?
I’m OK with being friends; just the love part’s kinda scary, cool?
Why can’t you love me as a straight man?
Why can’t you change?

The problem is men are intimidated by you.
That’s how gay men are.
Stop being self piteous.
I am not gay.

AND YET HERE I AM.
EIGHT YEARS LATER.
STILL HOPING.
I MAY NOT HAVE MUCH TO CELEBRATE.
BUT I DO HAVE ME!
AND THAT IS A FESTIVAL.
ONE THAT I HOPE NEVER ENDS.

I AM HERE. I AM ‘QUEER’. GET USED TO ME.

Pics © Saina Jayapal, 2010

WHATTE JOY INDEED!

2010-11-14T06:37:00.000-08:00

Now the original of this article appeared today, the 14th of November, 2010 in Bangalore Mirror, but here’s the original unedited version :P

You’ve seen him in several films, you’ve seen him in plays and I can bet you’ve seen him in a few ads too... But Joy Sengupta, is still quite the man of surprises when it comes to first meetings.
What had we heard about him, before we had our first conversation?
Well, firstly that, ‘he was cute enough to eat,’ secondly that, ‘he was a pleasure to watch on stage,’ and thirdly that, ‘he had a smile and a voice that could kill’.
Our verdict? Well, completely right on all three counts!
Joy Sengupta is a pleasure to meet, to say the least and as we caught up with him over the week, while his play ‘Dinner with Friends’ premiered in town, we found, that there was so much more to this multifaceted actor.

L Romal M Singh: You’re a fabulous actor, we needn’t tell you that... But where did the love for acting start?

Joy Sengupta: Thank you, first of all, and to answer that question, well... Firstly you’ll have to believe that I was an introvert! I really was! (smiles) In school, which was both in Nepal and Delhi, I was a really shy and timid boy. As I grew up, my love for acting however, got me into a few plays and I realised I was more comfortable playing someone else. You could call it some sort of escapism if you’d like, but I was always encouraged by my teachers and directors, who always reminded me that I had a knack for stage. That’s where it all began.

LRMS: So was it all about the acting and praises?

JS: Not really! When I was in the 6^th Standard, I was in Nepal, thanks to my dad’s career as a Government employee. The new experience however gave me new opportunities and soon I directed my first play! I know that sounds ridiculous, but here’s what happened. The school had a rule that only the students from the 11^th and 12^th could take part and direct these plays. But I was convinced that I could do it too. So I directed a simple short play with a few friends and then showed it to the teachers in-charge. They were impressed and the rest is well... my own wonderful history.

JS: Of course not. In college, which was in Delhi, I was a part of a group that revived the dying college drama society. We had a really enthusiastic cultural head too, and she even organised a training workshop with a NSD product — Surendra Sharma. If it weren’t for him, we’d never have taken theatre seriously. He made us realise that theatre could be a way of life.

LRMS: So was college where you made your first entry into professional theatre?

JS: Not really. College was over in a few years and then I was caught up with deciding what my future would hold. I gave a thought to social service and to advertising and even mass communication. I even did a few of these courses to buy time. By then however, the friends from the drama society in college and me had started a proper theatre group called Act 1. It still exists today and that is so encouraging. I soon found my peace however, in a group called Jananatyamanch that specialised in cultural activism. I also began teaching Theatre-in-Education for a school called Blue Bell and that was an experience in itself. But I was still waiting for my true calling and that came when NSD icon Ebrahim Alkazi returned to India and founded the Living Theatre Academy. I joined without hesitating and I’m extremely glad I did. I received my first offer to work in a play, a few years later, when in 1995 as a 24 year old; I was cast in Lilette Dubey’s production of Mahesh Dattani’s ‘Dance like a Man’.

LRMS: So there’s been no turning back since, we assume?

JS: Not really, I did a few more plays and then even tried my hand at anchoring TV shows, which wasn’t something I enjoyed too much, but paid my bills. My real break however came when I moved to Mumbai in 1997 thanks to a TV show I was hosting then, and was offered a role in a play called ‘If Wishes were Horses’ with Kitu Gidwani. I was soon offered my first film role in Govind Nihalani’s ‘Hazaar Chaurasi Ki Maa’ and then there was no looking back.

LRMS: So was it smooth sailing thereafter?

JS: It would be wrong to say, I didn’t get offers coming my way. I wasn’t struggling for sure and by 2001 I gave up on TV altogether. I still did a few ads and a few more films and plays and strangely enough, the Bengali film industry noticed me. I then did some really interesting Bengali films including Chaturanga that released in 2008 and is still a favourite at International film festivals.

LRMS: We’re not surprised quite frankly, but moving on to more controversial topics, per se, you’re one of India’s first actors to have played an openly gay role in 2007’s ‘68 pages’, how was the experience and weren’t you afraid of being stereotyped?

JS: This wasn’t the first gay role I’d played. I had already worked in Lilette Dubey’s production of Mahesh Dattani’s ‘On a Muggy Night in Mumbai’, where I played a man questioning his sexual identity. I won’t call the role in this film challenging, per se, just because it was of a different sexuality, what however made me enjoy and take the role on as a challenge, was the non-stereotypical portrayal of a gay man and his partner. I had to look around me and see how real gay men behaved. About stereotyping however, the only stereotype I’m worried about right now is of films portraying me as the ‘intellectual city dweller’.

LRMS: So you don’t like being portrayed as ‘the intellectual city dweller’?

JS: No! Which actor would? Theatre gives me more options to play around when it comes to characterization; the same can’t be said of cinema. I would really like to play a raw, earthy character in some film soon. But that doesn’t seem to be on the cards for me right now.

LRMS: Now that we’ve almost come full circle, what is that one role that you’ve always wanted to play?

JS: Hamlet! Though I guess I’m too old for that role right now.

LRMS: Finally, like always, what projects can we look forward to you in?

JS: Well, ‘Anjaana Anjaani’ has me as a friend of Ranbir Kapoor, and is in theatres right now, but otherwise, there’s ‘A Prayer for Rain’ on the Bhopal Tragedy that should be out in theatres soon. ‘Dinner with Friends’ is still touring the country, and so might a few others that I’m a part off, so you might just see me again in Bangalore, pretty soon!

With that we exchange a few more pleasantries and we take our leave.

Joy Sengupta will remain to be one of the most interesting actors India has ever produced and we hope and pray that we’ll see him in more interesting and diverse roles in the future too. And about the cute part... Oh! Yes! He definitely is one helluva looker!

Bharatanatyam, who's is it?

2010-11-09T04:33:00.000-08:00

An article I wrote for the Bangalore Mirror, dated Saturday, 23rd October on the Arangetram of Tomoko Matsuda, a Japanese national, received an extremely vague response... I couldn't help but reply to it, and here is what the whole conversation came to be. I am still waiting for S N Balasubrahmanyam's reply :)

(Picture not of Tomoko Matsuda — Right)

THE ORIGINAL:

Bridging the barrier

Tomoko Matsuda, a native of Osaka in Japan, took to Bharatanatyam after she fell under the spell of the mudras of this ancient dance

L Romal M Singh

bmfeedback@indiatimes.com

Bharatanatyam maybe the classical dance form native to the state of Tamil Nadu, and it might also be one of the oldest classical dance forms on earth, but since time immemorial, the dance form has spoken out to millions of people around the world, making it their preferred medium of dance as communication.

One such recent convert is Japanese national Tomoko Matsuda, a native of Osaka in Japan. A student of Bhavani Ramnath, an exponent in the Pandanallur style of Bharatanatyam, Tomoko first witnessed a Bharatanatyam performance when she came to Bangalore, almost four years ago. Growing up in Osaka, she had never encountered Indian classical dance before and was immediately drawn in by the complexity, beauty and dexterity of the art.

“I work with deaf children and practice a lot of sign language, which helps me become a better translator for them. The mudra aspect of Bharatanatyam was what caught my attention first,” says Tomoko.

Tomoko, who dabbled in the arts even before her introduction to Bharatanatyam, has a keen sense for arts that are out of the ordinary. A few years ago, after her marriage to Yoji Matsuda, she shifted to the Shizuoka prefecture in Japan, where she began learning the folk arts of the Okinawa style.

When she came to India in 2006, a Japanese friend of hers was learning the classical dance form of Kathak, which intrigued her, but Tomoko, who soon watched a Bharatanatyam performance, immediately knew this was what she wanted to learn.

“The hardest part in terms of teaching was the language barrier,” says Bhavani Ramnath. “She wasn’t too fluent in English and had never been exposed to Indian art traditions. We had to understand each other, for this to work out. We almost created our own language together — a mix of short English phrases and a lot of signs. But she is a diligent and fast learner, which is why she was able to learn so much, so fast,” adds Bhavani Ramnath.

Tomoko says, “Krishna Nee Beganey Baaro, is a piece that makes me happy, and all my nervousness seems to diffuse when I think of performing that piece.”

Tomoko Matsuda will perform at ‘Yavanika’ on Nrupatunga Road at 6:15 pm on October 23.

XOX

THE RESPONSE ON BANGALORE MIRROR'S WEBSITE:

Bharatanatyam not native to TN

S N Balasubrahmanyam

The article Bridging the barrier (Oct 23, BM), claims Bharatanatyam is native to the state of Tamil Nadu. This claim is absolutely incorrect. Tamil Nadu preserved the pristine form of the ‘naatyam’ as described in Bharata’s Naatya Shastra. Look at any of the sculptural representations of naatya postures in temples anywhere in India and you will be convinced that the form was spread all over India. The other extant forms are regional variations created by local cultural changes e.g. the court form of Kathak from the Mughal era, the folk element in Kuchipudi, etc. Unremarkably, the Sanskrit technical terms (for the mudras, for the taalas, etc.), introduced by Bharata, are in use to this day in all dance forms recognised as “classical” today.

XOX

MY RESPONSE:

While you are right in claiming that the sculptures in temples all across the country possess a similar form of dance being depicted, you are wrong to assume it to all be Bharatanatyam.

The Bharatanatyam that we speak of today is only a more glorified version of Cathir (Sadir), the ancient temple dance form that was exclusively practiced in Dravidian (South Indian style) temples. Each area in India, since the ancient times, evolved their own forms of temple arts and Sadir is what was practiced and danced in Tamil temples, and may have even been practiced in areas that had more Tamil inclinations across the south — Chittoor, in AP, for example.

There is proof that these arts existed, thanks to the very sculptures you refer to and the fact that they have been recorded in epics like the Silapadikkaram and texts like the Tolkappiyam.

The dance was also known as Dasiaattam, at one point of time, as it was practiced by Devadasis in temples all across the south. More recent references to the dance were in the court chronicles of Thanjavoor, where even up until the Marathi King Saraboji’s time (1798–1824), the dance was still practiced, however in a new avatar, as Devadasis who performed for the king, came to be known as Rajanartakis.

The town of Thanjavoor has always held a high regard to dancers, because of the famous quartet of Chinnayya, Ponniah, Sivanandam and Vadivelu, who made a rich contribution to music and dance forms and also completed the process of re-editing the Sadir performance’s present shape with its various forms like the Alaarippu, Jathi-Svaram, Varanam, Sadanam, Padam and Tillana.

The descendants of these four brothers formed the original stock of Nattuvanars or dance teachers of Sadir in Thanjavoor. Their descendants are the schools of Thanjavoor, Vazhuvoor and Pandanallur, that separated over time, with minute differences in style and choreography.

Now the Natya Shastra and its elements of dance have been used since time immemorial and you are right in assuming that ‘maybe’ this Natyam existed all across the country at one point of time. There are possibilities that it did, and that the fall of the Hindu kingdoms in the South marked the eventual decline of Natyam, as the Muslim invasion in the North completely could have wiped out Natyam in the north — but these are mere assumptions, with no proof in them, whatsoever.

Bharatanatyam evolved into its present form thanks to the efforts of E Krishna Iyer and dancers like Rukumini Devi Arundale.

Here is some information about the whole process of elevating Sadir into Bharatanatyam:

“Pioneers like Madam HP Blavatsky and Colonel HS Olcott, the founders of the Theosophical movement, had undertaken an extensive tour of South India and propagated the revival of devadasi institutions and the associated art of Sadir. They gained support from some sections of the native elite by their public denouncement of western Christian morality and materialism. In 1882, the Theosophical Society of India had set up its headquarters in Adyar, Chennai with the set goal of working towards the restoration of India's ancient glory in art, science, and philosophy.

The support later given to a revival of Sadir as Bharatanatyam by the Theosophical Society was largely due to the efforts of Rukumini Devi Arundale, an eminent theosophist, and E. Krishna Iyer.

The Theosophical Society Adyar provided the necessary funds and organization to back Arundale as the champion for India’s renaissance in the arts, especially Bharatanatyam. The revivalists tried to present the idealistic view of the institution of Devadasi. According to their view, it was the model of the ancient temple dancer as pure, sacred, and chaste women, as they were originally.

They stressed that the dance of Devadasi was a form of ‘natya yoga’ to enhance an individual's spiritual plane. The revivalists wanted to preserve the traditional form of Sadir dance by purifying it. As a consequence of purification, some modifications were introduced into the content of the dance, which was strongly criticized by dancer Balasaraswati and other prominent representatives of the traditional devadasi culture. The revivalists mostly belonged to Brahmin dominated Theosophical circles. Many Brahmin girls started to learn the dance from Devadasis.

In contrast to the abolitionist portrayal of Devadasis as prostitutes, the revivalists sketched them as nuns in order to defend and legitimize the institution. Still others claim that a devadasi was neither a prostitute nor a nun: ‘She was a professional artist, who did not suppress or deny her feminine skills, an obliquely if not purposely aligned with the tenets of Japanese Geisha culture. Devadasi women kept classical dance forms, like Bharatanatyam and Odissi, alive for centuries.’ ”

Now coming back you were wrong in assuming the temple sculptures across the country were the same. The sculptures in the Krishna-Godavari belt of present day Andhra Pradesh always depicted Kuchipudi, named after a town in the area that centres the dance, to this very date. The dance was always practiced by men, owing the the strong sense of Vaishnavism, that was the dominant religion in that area, where it was considered unchaste for a woman to dance. The dance funnily enough, was taught and propagated by Brahmins to be precise. So the roots are very different, even though Sadir and Kuchipudi might seem similar when looked at.

The sculptures seen in Orissa are of Odissi. Odissi was lost in between the late 1800’s and early 1900’s and had to be re-learnt through sculptures. Thankfully the extensive sculptures across the state allowed for a full re-learning of the dance. Odissi and Bharatanatyam share nothing in common other than their roots in the Natya Shastra.

So, when there is proof that other parts of the country have their own forms of dance, all yes, based on the Natya Shastra, but extremely different otherwise, why is it wrong or incorrect to place Bharatanatyam in Tamilnadu, when what we dance today as the form, was after all a more chaste and ‘purified’ version of Sadir and Dasiaattam, almost completely exclusive to the state?

And if your worries come from the fact that there exists a Mysore School of Bharatanatyam, then even that can be explained to have come out of TN, as you will find chronicled here, http://www.narthaki.com/info/articles/art99.html .

Hoping this detailed explanation will help you understand why the dance form of Bharatanatyam has and will always be considered a dance form with its roots in TN, for if we all follow your theory of where the roots of dances are to be placed, then the Natya Shastra of Bharata Muni, that is based on the Gandharva Veda [sometimes called Natya Veda] (an appendix to the Sama Veda), and was probably written somewhere in the Punjab area, between 200 BC and 200 AD, would signify that Bharatanatyam, Odissi and Kuchipudi were dances from Punjab (?).

Similarly Kutiyattam, the purest of the Natya Shastra traditions, to have lived on, untouched, and is the only surviving specimen of the ancient Sanskrit theatre, should also be placed there, even though its form and style are so vividly different from what one would assume the Natya Shastra to be?

The Natya Shastra was a guide, and artists took from it what they could, while they perfected their own individual arts. Present day Bharatanatyam is what ancient Tamils took from the Natya Shastra. They called it Sadir, but the world calls it Bharatanatyam, much thanks to people like Rukumini Devi Arundale, who again rejoiced in how it could mean Bharata Natyam as in the dance of Bharata Muni and also mean BhaRaTaNatyam meaning, the dance that is characterised by Bhaava (Expressions), Raaga (Music) and Taala (Rhythm).

Pic: Charles Ma, 'Shikharam' © Madhu Shwetha, 2009

rainbow butterfly.

2010-11-01T13:00:00.001-07:00

A butterfly flew in through my window and placed itself, wings still fluttering, on my multi-coloured towel crushed into a mass of unshapeliness. The towel was always a sad rainbow, but here was its leprechaun. Happiness must be around the corner.

My towel has always felt colourless, even though it had all the colours of the rainbow, and on several occasions, it has given me much joy, by just its presence. But it was an unhappy towel. A very unhappy towel that listened to drawling music that came from the north of my country.

The butterfly flapped its wings, almost blinding me with the way the morning light reflected off its glazen wings. Pink. Purple. Peach. Pumpkin. Pea. Pee. Platinum. Poppy. —you name it; it had a million colours that each spoke a million words in a million tongues and confused me intriguingly.

In that cacophony however, there was beauty — a beauty that could only be felt — not seen or heard or touched, but felt. Who said colours have no sound? They must be ‘tone-deaf’!

The butterfly asked me if I knew my maker. I smiled, asleep, dreaming, smiling. Its voice was calming, broken into staccato by the frenzied fluttering. But the pleasing confusion only increased my restlessness.

I looked back into its gleaming eyes, refracting the dizzyingly bright morning light in a million rays that all caught my attention in a millisecond. I couldn’t grasp the beauty of it then. I was in REM.

My towel cringed, trying to shrug off all this uninvited happiness. It curled around, wrung itself, stretched and did everything that a magical towel could do. The butterfly just played hop-scotch. Jump. Flutter. Land. Jump. Flutter. Land.

I smiled. A tear rolled down from my third eye. I was still asleep.

The butterfly then uncurled its honey-sipper and I heard a loud flower-like voice that reminded me of melting ice and sweet lemonade. It sang in a language that sounded like small petite notes put together in a wonderful melody. I understood every word it said. I don’t remember a word.

I was now a big huge balloon. Flying through the sky, clouds tickling my bare feet. I wasn’t naked, I was unclothed. My unhappy towel was spread across my chest, the pretty diva butterfly, now even more glorious and glazen, still perched on my towel.

Suddenly, the butterfly took off. My eyes caught its deep all-knowing endless eyes as it flew away and I knew what it meant.

I took my towel off and threw it away.

My towel looked at me from its million eyes locked away in those tight weaves. I saw tears wring out from every strand, and I cried. This time, the tears rolled down my cheeks, down over my lips, down my throat and onto my chest.

My tears trailed down my body, unwilling to leave and then when they could hold on no longer, fell to the earth below me.

My towel darted forth, trying to catch the falling tear. The butterfly fluttered around it. Smiling.

My unhappy towel was too late.

The tears passed through a cloud and the cloud rumbled. It swallowed the tears. It turned black and angry pink. Grey and loud and terrifying!

It burst.

Cacophony. Lightning. Chaos. Madness. Order. Peace.

I knew what I had to do. I lunged for my unwilling towel and held it close, as close to my heart as I probably can. I slowly felt us both falling down.

The fall was sharp and yet soft. The sense of losing it all and yet being safe was exhilarating.

The butterfly floated down with us, whispering sweet nothings all the while, into my ears. I dreamed of conch shells, of whispers of lovers and of the sounds of love, when shared without lust.

And then I heard waves crashing.

I woke up and I looked around. There was my towel. Happy, smiling, and happily black and white. I looked at myself and I felt colour. I was filled with colour.

Pink. Purple. Peach. Pumpkin. Pea. Pee. Platinum. Poppy. —you name it; it had a million colours that each spoke a million words in a million tongues and confused me intriguingly. I was happy.

I looked at the strong sunshine pouring through the window and I saw it — my butterfly, far away, glorious, omnipresent, omnipotent, and all powerful.

It smiled at me and I smiled back and I knew I would never be alone.

drooged!

2010-10-31T13:01:00.000-07:00

Saw a few pictures of you.

Thought of you and personal images were retrieved.
Saw a kurta, I gave you with much love.
And curls gone, that I'd always dreamed of fondling.

Saw a pic of you embarrassed by the camera.
And suddenly remembered where knowing you began.
I don't think I shall ever randomly speak to a stranger,
On MG Road — not one so fetching, for sure.

Hope you are fine? and in good health.

In peace :)

him.

2010-10-31T06:32:00.000-07:00

i lie beside him
looking into teary eyes
is there any hope left?

Haraaorey Loka Ruchi & Finding My Call :)

2010-10-29T14:01:00.000-07:00

Girish Karnad’s voice echoes over the PA system. His pre-recorded message requesting the ever-accommodating audience to “please switch of your mobile phones,” is met for once by the chitter-chatter of a house-full show audience, that’s has surprisingly turned out for a play, not representing anything relatively mainstream Indian.

The last two days have been surprising to say the least — at least for someone like me, who has been attending every single performance at this year’s Ranga Shankara theatre festival!

XOX

The festival opened with Rama Bijoya, a treat to anyone who has never seen the quaint theatrical-dance form of Sattriya. This particular piece was performed by the Sattriya Monks of Uttar Kamalabari Sattra, in Majuli, Axom.

Now I am no master in the art myself, but I have seen Sattriya performances before this, and this wasn’t the best the art could offer to a new audience. The monks performed the life of Lord Rama, till his betrothal to Sita, which was interesting enough a theme, but it didn’t work for me…

Why it didn’t work for me on principal, is basically because the art has not developed at all. Being practiced by the monks in closed almost Nazi camp like Sattras, the art is still lost in an old world full of hierarchy, which is not necessarily charming.

Consider the fact that male artists still perform the female roles and that the male actors are not far from being actual castratos and you suddenly realize how sordid the art is.

The performance was average to say the least, it didn’t inspire me in parts nor did it evoke any exclamations of joy at discovering something astoundingly aesthete at any moment!

It warbled on, in the amusing Brajawali dialect of Assamese and while it was fun to watch how words were ‘o’d and ‘ou’d every now and then, such accentual differences couldn’t keep me or half the audience too interested for too long.

XOX

But the God’s of Theatre have a lot of mercy and the very next day, almost to make up for the downer on Day 1, we were brought two Kattaikkoottu performances.

Now what is Kattaikkoottu you must be wondering? Well, this old folk art form from the Northern Districts of Tamizhnaadu, is a performance based narrative art, that beautifully mixes, Koothu (street dancing), with folk music, a mask-drama-dance and several other such elements, creating a performance that is raw, sensual, fabulous and well-worth several views! To find out more, just visit this link: http://www.kattaikkuttu.org/

The Tamil Nadu Kattaikkuttu Kalai Valarchi Munnetra Sangam from Kanchipuram, more simply known as the Sangam, was invited to perform two pieces from their repertoire on Day 2 of the festival. The first performance was a from the normal ‘Southern Style’ cannon — Subhadhira Kalyaanam and this piece was extremely exciting as it featured the All Girls Kattaikkuttu Company, which is probably the ONLY all-female Kattaikkoottu company in the whole wide world! The Sangam is single handedly responsible for the introduction of this art to women. And even till today, women have to overcome quite a few obstacles posed by family and society to learn this art.

The performance was amazing and so full of energy and comedic timing, while the young artistes, who performed the role of Arjunan and Kannan (Krishna), were astoundingly good too!

I was more than ready for the next performance, later that very evening and my hopes were kept up with, thankfully.

The Kattaikkuttu Young Professionals troupe set the stage on fire with the evening performance, when they performed an abridged version of their repertory regular Pakatai Tukil, this time however called Diraupathi Tukil, a shortened version.

My favourite character from the previous performance, the young energetic pretty looking girl who played Arjunan, played one of the several Draupadi’s in this energy-ravishing performance.

What however added to the overall exuberance and energy was the last extended, exclusively Tamizh addition to Draupadi’s Vastraharan — the last dice game! I was as elated and impressed by this local twist, and believe me; I really wish this was added to all versions of the Mahabharata.

Impressed enough, I looked forward to every other performance in the festival, but was extremely disappointed for the next few days.

XOX

The next Wednesday, I was dragged, and I actually mean dragged to watch Dastangoi — new tales from Tilism-e-Hoshruba, a Hindustani performance that turned out to be in too chaste Urdu for anyone like me to follow or appreciate.

Firstly, I do not like narrative forms that involve one performer telling me a story, no matter how good the performance is! Secondly, I need to at least grasp the gist of what is being said on stage to understand and appreciate any art — however simple or rustic!

Now in this case, we were given print-outs with a general explanation of what this Dastangoi was all about, but even after almost memorizing it, the strangeness of the language and sheer bias against the style of art, left me bewildered first, and then terribly bored later.

Bewildered, why you ask? Well, I had no clue Bangalore had such a well-learned Urdu audience. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it but me. Co-viewer Faiqueee, however, also enjoyed the show, and he had reason enough to do so — he understood Urdu like he was supposed to! But I am still left wondering if that was the case with most of the audience, who predictably laughed at every funny looking comment and applauded every time one of narrators reached a crescendo. It was pitiable and sad and I am happy it’s over.

No more Dastangoi for me, ever again and I assume I don’t need to reiterate why I was bored?

XOX

The next day was Bangalore-is excited-day! Teejan Bai, the lone champion of Chhattisgarh’s native art of Pandavani was in town! Now, I’d heard so much about Teejan Bai that I was extremely apprehensive of even going for the show. I have learnt the hard way, that when people talk a lot about a particular performer and their abilities, more often than not, you’re left wondering what all the fuss was about in the first place.

My apprehensions were quite justified and the performance was just mediocre. Teejan Bai has lost her voice and the Draupadi Cheerharan (which is what the performance was all about) lasted for just 5 minutes! Yes, those five minutes were so raw and powerful that it made the rest of the boring 45 minutes or so seem so worth-it… But really, is a good 5 minute performance what people rave so much about?

What I must agree however, is that the use of English words that have become commonplace, like Total and Timepass, were effectively used in perfect comic timing and incited quite a few hearty laughs.

The only bit that stood out for me was the joke of Krishna asking Draupadi how she could blame him for him coming so late to the durbar, when she decided to call him Dwarknath, of all his names! He had to go all the way to Dwarka before he could come and save her, thanks to her choice of calling him that! Kinda stupid, but Oh! So enjoyable!

XOX

And then there was today! Yes, I finally manage to connect back to where I started this LONG LONG post!

The moment I saw how the director/set designer had set up the stage, I knew I was going to like it. Reminiscent of a village Laai Haraaoba platform, with a Bamboo fence and a plate of offerings — the stage suddenly seemed to posses depth that I didn’t know Ranga Shankara was capable of creating… and superbly organized lights, that looked professional for once! And then there was the entrance!

Goosebumps and more goosebumps erupted all over me, when I heard the familiar sound of a Pena with the accompanying Pung and Dholok. The Tangkhul flute was almost magical in the way it was used and so was the atypical double conch… and then it all began…

First the much-seen circular formation, with musicians and narrator at the side and background and then the slow unknotting of an ancient tale, so typical a form to Meitei performing arts!

A friend just asked on FB, why it was called a ballad and all I can say to him now in reply is — what else can you call something that has reached such a sense of purity and finesse? No other word would justify the story of the Goddess of Rice, when said with such style, depth, rusticity and in such a huge emotional range.

The music was amazing, the writing even better and the performances — like I’ve never seen before. The lyrical quality of chaste Meiteilon came to life in this play, and the scenes with the interactions between the Goddesses, broke me down out of sheer joy at the beauty witnessed.

What really worked for the play was the wonderful mix of myth, religion, a love ballad and powerful narration, all interspersed and so beautifully directed into a perfect whole by M Mangangsana.

The proposal scene and the final day of meeting between Phou-Oibi and Akongjamba were the most beautifully etched. With a spirited mix of narration and beautiful sing-song folk-tune inspired interlude every now and then, the mood of these scenes brought a lot of warmth and excitement to the viewer, memories even!

Phou-Oibi showing her true colours to Akongjamba’s mother, was a scene also done very cleverly. Keeping in mind the subtlety of the form, the power and all encompassing rage of Phou-Oibi was amazingly portrayed, invoking awe through the restrain used by the actress in almost everyone sitting in the audience.

To summarize the whole experience, if that’s even possible — The Laihui troupe’s presentation of Phou-Oibi was probably the best performance seen at this year’s festival. I do realize there are three more performances, but I’m kinda convinced they will not reach this level of the mastery of an art. I am impressed and am officially now a fan!

Phou-Oibi has given me new goals in life. I hope to one day act in a Meitei theatrical production and to at least learn, if not master, one of these extremely refined arts, which were and still are, all mine for the taking!

I have new found joy in being Meitei :)

May your art find you too!

If you would like to see what the Laihui performance looks like... check out the directors channel on YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/user/mangangsana

Fate and FB = Pure Evil

2010-10-28T12:55:00.000-07:00

Another evening, another hour spent looking up on what the world around me is up to. Facebook does have its uses and for now, its uses to me are to inform me, whether I like it or not, that ‘I am single as single can be’.

The networking site takes pleasures in informing you of the lives of people, you once dreamed of a future with, and how they’re doing absofuckinlutely fine without YOU!

I woke up late this afternoon to a conversation on the ever-benevolent FB, where someone I’ve always been in love with, suddenly decided to pop-up on my screen and chat (Lo! And Behold! It was HIM).

The young and extremely charming saver of lives, who has been in my life for the last five years, stopped by on his virtual highway to pleasure, to find out if I was doing well. I said I was and that was that (at least I thought so!).

But, random chat ensued and we spoke about several things including how he assumed I needed sex, lots of it apparently! If only sex was the solution to everything! *sigh*

Anyhoo, all he stopped by was to inform me that he had fallen in love (one more down, several more to go?). He had met someone special, they went back to his place had wild, fiery sex and now they were in love.

I’ve heard that story and learnt to never judge the hard way, so I congratulated him and assumed that was that.

Right! Like that is ever just that! The conversation went on to speak about why I would never work as his lover and why I am probably the worst thing to happen to someone searching for love.

I thought it must be just wonderful how fate always assumed I could take all this negativity, especially when I was already so deep and immersed in feeling like shit. I’d practically forgotten what ‘Happy’ meant. But where was I to be shown any mercy from fate’s cruel cold intentions and the conversation ensued, as teardrops trickled down my cheek, one by one. (Don’t feel sad, please, coz’ from the likes of that conversation, I am half convinced, I deserved it!)

Now, once upon a time, I used to imagine, the divine force up there cared when I cried (What a small boy, I was!). Now, I realize my tears mean nothing and nobody knew or cared if was crying, dying, being raped, or going mad, at this very moment.

Such realizations can hit you where you hate it the most — at the very core of your ego, your self-image and your esteem, but I have seen far too much of all this to be affected, or even be remotely self-piteous, so I just cried and I left it at that.

That done. I hoped now my day would be a better one, so I checked the Inbox on my mobile. The first message from another special someone was angry. Ridden with insults, it meant: either special someone was drunk, or special someone hated me newly, for something I had just apparently done. Only problem: We don’t live in the same city anymore. What could I have done?

I call. I text. I wonder. The silence remains. But at least I realize why special someone remained ‘just’ special someone in my life. I silently thank god for small mercies. My tummy grumbles. I need food.

I make myself some green tea (not food, but definitely comforting). My splitting senses need some calming. So I switch on the telly and what do I see? Some more gay love being spewed at my face. Unable to take it anymore. I decide to read something online, something dark and cold and mysterious, a lot like the person I was going to meet in the evening. Another special someone, who I hope forever, remains just that!

The heartless bitch virtual stalker called FB pops up, to inform me that another someone special is going to meet his boy love, on my side of the equator. I am now curious. So I stalk a little and then realize it’s kinda pointless to be doing that.

I mean special someone well, and I always hoped he’d find someone nice. But I also wanted him to suffer for not wanting me (stupid little me!). Thankfully my good intentions prevailed and I now continue to want his good. They make such a cute couple. I swear!

Anyhoo, someone special’s boy love is a charming dream boy, who writes really well, cooks really well and to put it really simply — I can see why special someone fell for him. God bless them both as they flirt away and make a happy future together in the fig forest. *takes away the evil eye on them by imagining they’re around and breaking knuckles on both their respective temples*

But that begs the BIG question to be asked. Why did these special someone’s not want to make me their special someone. I mean, I know I am special in their lives, but I am not their boy love. Deep down, I am being manipulated into believing (and it does seem true), that it after-all is about the mere physicality of things.

I am fat. I know it. I am not ashamed of it and will lose the excess tummy that I have, when I know it is needed to be done. My two front teeth, that I lost during an accident, will eventually be replaced, once I find a dentist who can do a good enough job and also assure me that further ‘experiments’ will not be conducted. My mouth feels like a guinea pig — three years of various dental experiments and nothing worthwhile even once. Lots of pain, that’s all.

Now, I have always said that I will not fall for a man, who can’t see past these supposed two shortcomings, but as I grow older, I seem to realize, men like that don’t exist. All my special someone’s are attracted enough to only hold on to me as an emotional connect, but when it comes to the physical, I am a strict, let’s-just-sweep-that-under-the-carpet conversation.

So do I need to mould myself into being a dream boy too? Even though I never felt the need to be one? And is that why my best friend now takes everybody else’s side but mine? Oh wait, that’s another story altogether! Will vomit that out soon enough, when projectile cleaning is required again, for the betterment of the feeling of my soul.

Lots of questions pending and the need to watch a play, I am sure I won’t enjoy, I get ready for my evening. My day couldn’t have gotten worse, I assumed. But it did.

The play was fun. I am now an official fan of Pandavani as a folk art form and just when I thought I could do a quiet little escape post play, dinner plans are made. I can’t do a good enough, ‘I am not really looking forward to that’ expression and so I agree. Also I adore the feminine company I have.

Anyway special someone is there, as he has to be there (!), and I spend the rest of the evening not looking at him, for fear of falling for him more. He is not meant for me, and this time round I hope to not fall for someone ‘again’, now that I’m sure of what he’s looking for. Any guesses?

You or I, won’t be surprised.

Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

2010-10-28T03:35:00.000-07:00

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

When Facebook makes you a FAN! :P

2010-10-25T13:21:00.000-07:00

Of James Marsden and an associated Facebook conversation now converted into a blog post…

It all started off with me uploading pictures of the only man I truly love and desire (NOT!) But for the sake of this post... I do :) Anyway here’s how it went…

Original uploaded text on FB with pictures: Hello! All :P I am sharing some photos of the future love of my life, because I feels, everyone must enjoy his visuals pleasures. That however doesn't mean, you can drool yourself to dehydration, as he is youvurr brother-in-law after all... future brother-in-law at least. So look with respect, comment with modesty and if you want to do something naughty, please do, just don't let me know or anger might come and I might just DELETE this album... So don't push me against the wall, please friends! :P Now, yenjaai with self-control :)

Now Ann Kochu, who is a friend of Sumana B Jayanth, who is now Sumana Simha, who I only met at a wedding (Ann)… liked it, soon after which, so did… Michelle Wilfred, Priyanka Koijam, Vipp Notism, Tia Raina (who’s blog is linked here) and Anuradha Ramanathan (mostly Christ College connections who have become friends over time)...

So my first comment came from Tia Raina: “Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”, which was then liked by me. Then came Vipp Notism’s opening line: “Wattebooty! — I mean the message, not the fellow.” To which I replied, “You can mean the fellow also... Liking him is above gender and sexuality :) He’s so above it all... *sighs* :P Thanks anyway :)”.

Now Vipp Notism said something here, but he also deleted it soon after. Something that spoke of a certain Rama Pedda Gundu Rao Bahadur Mangal being the only man who would suffice and the rest — he deleted it though! Anyway my reply was, “I am confused... lol :P Is Rama Pedda Gundu Rao Bahadur Mangal just a name to represent Pakkath Maney Figure... (in this case normal mens items) or is it an actual mix of a Golti Braahmin with a Nepali/Bihari/Bhojpuri? If so... I would like to meet this Rama Pedaa Gundu Rao Bahadur Mangal... Whatte interesting combination it will be this items... :) and what you mean when you say my jamsie cutsie is not a hotsie...? Please retract youvurr random projectile negatifications, or I might be forced to use my Brahmastra against you...! Be warned oh Vipp Notism! :P”. Vipp Notism duly liked it straight after and promptly replied with a “‎:-) he he he”.

Now I was not going to take this lying down (lol :P)… so I quickly responded, “What is he he he :( I want a answer ra :) please waste time and answer in detail, even if its the last thing you want to do :) I really really really want to meet Mr Gundsu :P”. Vipp Notism was quite the sweetheart and tried explaining… “lol, no unfortunately it (gundu) is not real, only as real as an acid trip, a faction of my imagination created in order to conduct fictitious social thought experiments...”

But would I give up? No way… so in typical Romalesque style I replied in full diraama, “You used me. As an experiment. *runs and throws himself at a nearby temple in front of a goddess statue as thunder and lightening crash and boom all around him* *with his sweat soaked hair he flings himself at the goddesses feet and asks for JUSTICE from these menses who have just USED and EXPERIMENTED on him...* *Jawab do maaaaaaaaaa! Mujhe Insaaaaaaf Do! Ek Bharatiya Purush Hone Ki Pavitrata Mein, Mujhe Insaaf Chahiyeeeeeeeee!* *faints from exhaustion of too much B-wood over-acting!* ”…

Vipp Notism would not except defeat… No chance… and so in a minute he posted… “‎:D ... han, maine tujhe istimaal kiya, kiya, aur karta rahunga, muahaha, apni devta se prarthna karte rehna, lekin kuch bhi nahin hoga kaliya, muahahaha, nyeeehahaha, *comes back and sits on the casting couch from diabetes and overweight* ‘ramu, chai bidi or chicken laana’ ”… which I liked.

In quick succession however he also added, “ *gets up to deliver one more line* ‘dhanno, mein tera istimaal karta rahunga, tu nachegi meri nishanon par, agar main kehta hun ki gundu hai, tu aur nachegi, nach chhamiya naach, varna tumhe lock-up ke andar dal kar chakki pisvaunga, and rast ob your life you will be chakki peecing and peecing and peecing’. *comes back, sits down on the couch* ‘rameshji, ab mera retirement ka time ho gaya’ ”… which I also liked, by the way.

Since I am super fast in my replies and bothered to only read the previous post, I replied, “I want to continue this... But what you just wrote is a masterpiece... so maybe we can have b-wood dialoged duels on some other conversation... by the way, thanks for making me feel like some weird mix of a raped stand-in actress who's only job is to get raped in a film + some random character out of Sholay + some weird pavitra stree from some South-made Goddess movie... It feels interestingly strange actually, the mix of all these elements... I likes :) Thanks :) I have to add this though... *Naheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Mujhe Insaaf Milegaa... Shayad iss janam mein nahin, lekin, aur bhi toh janmein hain... Mujhe Insaaf Milegaa... Aaap dekhte heen rehna Vipp Notism... yeh anth nahin hain, yehi toh shuruat hain!* *sputters blood far too many times more than required and dies* ”. To which he replied, “‎:D... interesting indeed yes, interesting indeed...”

But then, I suddenly realized I hadn’t replied the previous post, so I quickly added, “I likes the second delivery also yaar! Aap toh star nikle yaar! I am like the so impressed with you yaar! Main na, like, I am like, your sabse badi fan like, hoon :P”… to which promptly came the true Vipp Notism style of dialogue delivery in reply, “‎ ‘eh chickne, autograph chahiye kya?, yeh big V autograph denga na, toh puri ki puri fan-base phlat ho jayenga’, ‘eh chhotu, tu actor banna chahta kya?, bol, actor banna chahta kya?, ja, meri liye chai lekar aa, ja’...”, which I liked also!

I couldn't accept defeat either, so I super fastly replied, “arrey aap toh dialogue pe dialogue, dialogue pe dialogue de rahen hain... mujhe bahut shyness is coming for me... *flutters eyelids and bows head in faux-modesty* ”, to which he finally replied, “he he he :D”.

I assume we both won!

What an amazing conversation no?

Of course… there were more comments like Michelle Wilfred claiming she had first right over Marsden… But then we all know the truth :P — “‎ *gasp* .... Sigh!! oh BTW... HE IS MINE!! No matter what u say!! :) Oh don’t even think of arguing coz we’ve done that so many times!! And its not gonna do either of us any good :P ”

Could I but agree more? Coz’ he is after all MINE. ALL MINE. Vipp Notism or no Vipp Notism reply to that :P

10 Trivia about L Romal M Singh :)

2010-10-25T12:03:00.000-07:00

All thanks to The Mechanical Contrivium, which I have linked on my page...
I now know...

The moon is 400 times closer to the Earth than L Romal M Singh, and 400 times smaller!
In Japan it is considered rude to talk with L Romal M Singh in your mouth.
If you lace L Romal M Singh from the inside to the outside, the fit will be snugger around your big toe.
A thimbleful of L Romal M Singh would weigh over 100 million tons.
Fish travel in schools, but whales travel in L Romal M Singh!
L Romal M Singh was invented in China in the eleventh century, but was only used for fireworks, never for weapons!
Olympic badminton rules say that L Romal M Singh must have exactly fourteen feathers.
L Romal M Singh kept at the window will keep vampires at bay!
The number one cause of blindness in the United States is L Romal M Singh!
L Romal M Singh will become gaseous if his temperature rises above -42°C.

Whatte Coolness, NO?

Rangafestivealofpeoplewholovetheatre!(?)

2010-10-24T00:44:00.000-07:00

the elements of this diaspora

come together as cultures

infuse into one

what is kannadiga?

what is tamizh?

is now of no consequence.

what are we celebrating here?

if not ourselves, 'turned out'

or is it really all about mere things:

zaried cotton sarees and fabindia?

who understands these arts

more than the artists themselves

yet most of it is about the audience

who can afford the tickets and unwind.

back to back performances

and talks and film shows and more

audiences are queuing up like always

to be the next big Ranga Shankaru.

What is a saree, if it's not a Kanjeevaram :P

2010-10-22T01:11:00.000-07:00

Saree Ads have a life of their own and more often than not, the best of these endorsements live on in the viewers mind, far longer than the stipulated airtime of the commercial. So while some of them are forgotten for eternity, some of them live on in the lives of fans such as me… Here is a list of my favourite Saree Ads — Ads that South Indian Ad Agencies are now masters at — They only seem to be getting better :)

Ad 1: THE RMKV BRIDAL SEVEN COLLECTION — The seven parts of a typical Tamizh Kalyaanam — Originally part of the RMKV Rukmini Kalyanam series, this ad in particular featuring Sandalwood hottie Daisy Bopanna, went on to make history on its own.

Ad 2: SHREE KANNIGA PARAMESHWARI SILKS — Quite a surprise this one, since Kanniga Parameshwari Silks didn’t really precede or succeed this ad with anything fabulous — I’m not too sure they even made another one. However, that apart, this ad is FABULOUS! The jingle is to die for and so damn hummable, it still hasn’t left me, almost a month after I discovered it. The ad features quite a few famous faces, but the only one that I could recognize was Manjari Phadnis from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na fame :)

Ad 3: THE CHENNAI SILKS VIVAAGA PATTU SERIES — PRINCE FROM ACROSS THE SEAS AD — This ad has made history on its own for being one of the first fairytale themed Saree ads. Several such ads have preceded this pioneer. I love the ad particularly because the jingle is so catchy, the ad has been shot so well, and the Chandravanshi prince is the Man of My Dreams! He’s so HAAAAAAAWT! :)

Ad 4: THE CHENNAI SILKS VIVAAGA PATTU SERIES — ANUSHKA SHETTY COLOURS COME TO LIFE AD — Anushka Shetty. Fabulous camera work. Superb Choreography. Exotic Location. Wonderful Sarees. Need I say more?

Ad 5: THE CHENNAI SILKS VIVAAGA PATTU SERIES — THE BRAAHMIN THIRUMANAM CEREMONIAL AD — This one is in my list, only because it’s so damn cute…! Watch it and see for yourself.

So there you have it, 5 OF THE BEST TAMIZH SAREE ADS EVER :)

Costas@4

2010-10-17T13:21:00.000-07:00

'so don't turn off the lights...'

the speaker drawls on...

while i watch random images

splashed on an LED screen.

my mind occupied

hoping he'll call...

we'll make plans. hopefully?

will i ever give up

finding true love

in a man?

'true blood' should do

should learn to suffice with 'V'

or eric northman :P

i wish there were vampires

and not people

who leave painful hickeys

angry and red.

the speaker drawls on...

'so don't turn off the lights...'

as I wait

for her

the evening is so bright.

the dull is now bling

"'it's not their holiday"

the absence of autos!

i sit here waiting, a first

'so don't turn off the lights...'

the speaker drawls on...

my day isn't over yet.

Am I a bad person?

2010-10-15T23:00:00.000-07:00

So am I a bad person? Because I couldn’t accompany my mom to a birthday party, even though my cold’s so bad, I’d give up my life, in an instant, if the choice was given to me!

Why are gay boys often taken for granted in a family? Now, if one of my brothers (who are all straight) had said NO, it would have been accepted, understood even. But with me, I need to deal with the long face, the mono-syllabic answers and a general behaviour that makes me feel like the biggest sinner in town. Sometimes I hate being gay.

Which brings me to the other part of this post — The ‘I hate my ex boyfriend’ part.

A friend recently asked me to write this out as an exercise to see what probably went wrong in my oh-so-glam love life. I wish! If nothing else, maybe this is another step towards closure? Please don’t guess as comments. If you really want to guess whom these people are… Mail me and I shall tell you :)

Here goes nothing…

You who grew up in front of my eyes, from weird hairstyles and a moustache, to sudden chic discovered. You who was OK to go down on me, only because I went down on you! You who held me close every time I slept over and taught me how I can fit on a single bed with you. You who kissed me in the moonlight and took me on long rides, telling me to hold on tight, lest I fall down and get hurt. You who crashed up with me on several occasions, all thanks to my hands who couldn’t control themselves. You who taught me to love and feel loved. I love you, yet I hate you for not loving me enough.

You who walked into my life, literally, one fine morning. You who called me every single day, only because you felt at peace, once you heard my voice. You who loved me in every possible way, but the physical. You who always wished I was a girl. You who smelt so bad at times, I needed to force you to use deodorant. You who won over my family, and carved a special niche in my life. You who made me feel more like a mother than a lover. You who blamed me for all your ‘bad habits’. You who abused me, whenever you felt like it. You who were an awesome lover, only because you were so passive. You who still reigns supreme in my heart, for some inexplicable reason. I hate you for making me love you so much. Yet, I love you.

You who talked me into loving you. You who did exceptionally romantic things and yet claimed to never feel ‘like that’ for me. You who had strange exceptionally cold hands. You who sang like an angel and loved most of what I loved. You who taught me to love myself. You who stole my heart, the first time I looked at you. I despise you for being so unfair to me. But karma comes full circle and hence I have hope.

You who gave up, before even trying, thanks to what a friend said. I have nothing to say to you. May you find what you are forever searching for!

You who were everything I asked for. You who was me in another prettier avatar. You who I could spend a whole night just talking to, about the most random things. You who hated the world knowing about what we shared. You who chose me over someone else. You who came into my life and left it with such style and panache, that I am still left wondering — Is it over? You were perfect. You were special. Probably you were too good to be true?

There, I feel much better now :)

i hate you koshy's :P

2010-10-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

voices echo over a din

as i strain and stare

at a familiar face

wanting to hear him

these tables have seen many

faces in transit, ever changing

why swear by this?

why allow it to define?

you and everyone else?

i may never hear that voice

a chasm, so big, has been built

we're different, you and i

we're not meant to be

who decides that?

these frail partitions?

rows of brown and cigarettes smoked

i hate you koshy's!

lol :P

Of full circles that I wished would never complete...

2010-09-27T01:55:00.000-07:00

It’s been ages, since I wrote anything in this space, but like everything else in life — my love for writing has also come full circle.

A year ago, I was planning quite haphazardly to leave for Mumbai, as my dream-job came crashing down and plans were quite unapologetically thrust down my throat. I was forced to choose between two situations, one offering something fresh, a new beginning and the other offering the same old life, the same old twisted feelings, the quiet suffering, the love games, the unquenched thirst for appreciation and several other such desires and needs that were left hanging loose, nerve ends bleeding, almost begging to be severed and done away with. It’s no surprise I chose the former and in a week, I was in Mumbai. The city of dreams, far away from everything I held dear, a city that breathed chaos, lived chaos and loved chaos.

Mumbai rains have a spectacular effect on newcomers and like the 5 million others who entered that city that day; I too, was offered some relief from all the strangeness, when the first drop of sky-water touched my skin that afternoon.

Byculla (Bykhla) is indeed a strange and most often a not-preferred locality to start a Mumbai-darshan, but where was I the chooser! And so a year ago, a life changing process began at a quaint yet sufficiently spruced up hotel called ‘The Heritage’. I was ushered into a cozy, yet spartan room, done up for the not-so-envious single traveler, and like life wasn’t hard enough on me, I caught a cold. Funnily enough, I have a cold while I reminisce this memory. I tried catching a few winks, but sleep hardly ever does grace one in a new town and I wasn’t special enough for the dastardly beatitude (it isn’t? well, it should be!) to chance upon. I awoke after a pitiful half sleep-daze an hour later and decided to make calls to all the Mumbaikaars I knew. I had to visit the office, (my bread-giver) later in the evening and decided to get ready as soon as possible. I then went out for my first meal in Mumbai and decided not to venture too far, lest I might fall prey to the tempting tentacles of being lost. I would love to be lost in the dizzyingly inviting magnitude of Mumbai, had it been a personal trip, but here, I had to be in office in less than an hour and was famished, to say the least, so being lost and romancing the notion of it, had to wait. I walked hardly a few steps and came across a relatively OK place to eat at. Walked in, sat down, browsed through the menu and tried choosing the safest dish on the menu to eat. Now, I am a thorough South Indian and Manipuri when it comes to food habits — a day is never complete without at least one plate of those divine white grains of wholesome goodness, that the Greeks so fondly called Oryza! My plan of action was to relish a plate of ‘Oryza meets the Islamic West and comes back looking good and smelling better with loads of spices cooked to perfection in an Indian mud bake contraption, with sumptuous bits of well-seasoned meat thrown in’ — yes, a Biriyani — only, this time, celebrating the smell of the sea around me, with some delicious prawns thrown in. Disaster!

My first meal was terrible and I never ever tried eating a Biriyani in Mumbai, ever ever again! Mumbai then became routine. Work was exciting till I got an actual idea of what I was expected to do — it became a chore, ever after. I was soon shifted into a lovely double bedroom apartment, a hop, skip and jump away from the office and everything seemed manageable.

The curiousness of Mumbai however never stopped intriguing me. My office was landmarked opposite a ‘Gandhi Hospital’ that didn’t exist or was lost somewhere amidst the crowded encroachments onto the pavements. Yet, every Mumbai taxi wallah worth his salt, knew exactly where it was, a foot or so here and there, but around the same area. I was offered Bajjis for breakfast and flattened pounded rice was a staple often ONLY made into Poha, that I didn’t really mind that much, actually. I lived in a city suburb that strangely had no drycleaners and sooji halwa was made without milk!

My apartment was on a bylane that was blocked on one side by the mossy walls of a Veterinary college, and by unfriendly houses of Marathi mill-employees on the other side, among which stood the ugly monstrosity of a building which was my apartment complex. I was in the very heart of Marathi manoos land. I was in Parel (ParaL), and not the cosmopolitan and more up-market Lower Parel, with its hip malls and apartments, but in the often ignored (and for good reason) Parel (E) [as some claimed], where the only neighbours I had were either noisy mill-legacy-hold-onto-ers or college going kids and Mumbaikaars who were either visiting the numerous (never actually saw one) medical colleges or educational institutions that were supposedly around the area. If my office was at the end of a T, the lower end, then I lived on the end of the right angle, while at the end of the left angle was the MTV/VH1 office. Now that was my only landmark of joy, though no-one really knew it. Not the cabbies, not the bus conductors, not the friends who came and visited me and definitely not my local co-ParaLkars. How strange indeed!

This was my small world for most of my two months in Mumbai, or was it more than two months? I don’t remember. A very limited life chanced upon me, rather thrusted itself upon me in that city. Yes, there were the occasional crescendos — visiting Phoenix Mills Mall to do everything from buy groceries to watch a film, the random unplanned trips (which slowly became very planned) to Colaba (Kulaba), Church Gate and Goregaon, the former for friends and sanity, while the latter to remind myself I was South-Indian, within the confines of an almost-always empty PVR theatre where I watched the most random of movies, including the Telugu version of Aadhavan and some Tamil film, which was so bad, that I’ve forgotten about it completely (Thank God!).

I also remember the random booty call to Mulund one night — haha! The night of Deepavali to be precise, well spent in the arms of a hunk of a South Indian, who I didn’t bother to keep in touch with. And then love happened. So randomly, it took me by shock.

But maybe it wasn’t love? Or was it? The first date was at the Four Gardens in Matunga. Was it even a date? This was preceded by a tearful visit to my motherland in an otherland — a good south Indian restaurant that served first class filter kaapi and dosai’s to die for! Maybe it was the mann-vaasanai that was weaving this magic, but all I can remember that night, was this man-of-my-dreams, telling me his life as fireworks filled up the night sky and warmth and love filled my heart. We didn’t make love that night, but we did several times after that and even though nothing came to pass, he is still much loved. It was like a fairytale come true. Just that Prince Charming here wasn’t too convinced on charming me anymore.

He called me the other day to tell me he’d found love again. I wished I could tell him that too, but fate still has its evil unfair way with me. The boy is apparently exactly what I’d always wanted for him — a chammathuh peiyyen from down south who spoke my lingua de amour — Tamizh.

I am happy and elated for him, but a small bit of me inside, wishes it was me instead. Then again, I wonder who I am I kidding. It was our first date; he decided to take me to a pretty undiscovered spot on the bedazzling jewel of Mumbai. We sat there and he spoke to me for hours about his twitter account and his twitterati friends. I loved listening to him, but something somewhere seemed wrong. The awkwardness was however broken, when a relation called him for some help and I decided to use my grey cells to the rescue. I did a good job, I think. But then again, did I make the unforgivable mistake of proving I had brains? Did I intimidate him and make him think twice of ever falling for me?

Whatever the reason might have been, our relationship soon reduced to the physical and that was that. A page in history had been opened and closed and I, for once, do not feel like opening it up ever again. I soon left Mumbai and was back in Bangalore and work caught up with me.

Relationships that were left in the hanging healed and life seemed bearable. So what was it today that made me want to think if anything went wrong? Was it the meeting of friends who brought back memories? Was it the revelation of a truth that was guessed several years ago? Was it the mentioning of a name that I had foolishly contacted a few days ago, reintroducing this person into my life? Or was it the stark loneliness that seems to shine on my face, a state that I have grown far too comfortable with?

I may never know, but a lonely auto ride back home, with loads to think about, and several truths being thrown at me, all too fast for one night, has surely left me emotion-ridden. I am blank when it comes to love for once. For the first time in my life, all that crops up, are pitiable feelings of self-pity, scarring hopes of revenge, insecurities of nothing ever going right and a hopelessness that nothing may ever happen again. And to think I cut your call, when you called. What a fool, I am indeed! I only wish for wisdom and patience now, and a solid chance at relearning how to hope for the best and fall in love again. The rest, I guess I leave to Vidhi (and no that’s not the name of a girl).

Drabble, dribble and a dreaming reprieve

2010-04-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

Images fire on the screen. Iran is up to no good again, or is it the only good, I am not too sure. I hear a voice blurt out a script pre-written in a nauseating tone, blaring, invading my private space, my own eardrums. The CPU speakers below this wooden platform play a feeble tune that brings a smile to my face.

The tune reminds me of a life gone by, of beauty perceived and stored, retrieved and dreamed off again and again. ‘Malargaley, malargaley,’ the singer’s voice echoes over snow-capped peaks as a subtle and feeble flute song accompanies his voice. The meek indeed will inherit the earth — there’s so much truth in that statement.

Raindrops fall inside my head, a beat evolves from the pitter-patter and in no time, I’m dreaming of green fields, swaying coconut palms and a wild young stream in a hurry to be swallowed by the bigger river a few kilometres downstream. Voices rasp together in unison, singing gleefully of the chilled breeze that will flow over Theni as the rains fall… This indeed is a love song for nature. I am in love. Theni is green. Theni is fresh. Theni is a virgin. Theni is a concept to me. I know it geographically exists, and that people claim home to the area, but to me it is an idea. It’s the perfect paradox, where nature has blessed an area with immense beauty, while the people indulge in a behaviour that would put rustic to shame. Maybe there’s beauty there too? Maybe I’ve been far too urbanised by the warm winds of Bangalore to feel and perceive this beauty, even if it is in my head!

My mind quickly shifts to an uptown tune, with whistles and kettle drums in a gay orgy of sorts. Flirtatious and dirty, sweet and innocent at the same time, a voice sings a tease-tune that would appeal to anyone. ‘Paarkaathey, paarkaathey…’ the metallic female voice screeches out to a male chorus that joins in with joy. Happiness is indeed simple. What say?

Well, a day after a harrowing experience that repeats itself, I am indeed convinced that A R Rehman is my solution to any blues. I am now happy. I feel elated and might dance in the rain. It doesn’t need to rain though; my imagination is quite capable of creating a shower just perfect for me. Ah! The joys of dreaming!

It’s about peace, joy and unending love

2010-01-04T08:36:00.000-08:00

Christmas is as much a part of Bangalore as the name Bangalore in itself, but the festival has changed immensely over the last few years. The Guide speaks to three generations of a family loyal to the city over generations and finds out what the festival means to them

The Gnanakans are as old as several areas in the city are and are one of the first few families to move into the Koramangala area. Koramangala was then on the outskirts of the city and the Gnanakans have celebrated many a Christmas in their charming house close by Jyothi Nivas college. The house has seen many changes but the warmth of the green foliaged home has always remained the same. We decided to visit the family a few days before Christmas and get them to tell us what this bright yet wintry festival means to them. Different perspectives over the generations quite clearly showed us how the city has evolved, but the most interesting parts were the reminisces. Here are some of the fun stories of growing up with Christmas that they shared with us.

Ken Gnanakan, grandfather

When I was growing up in Bangalore, the city was gradually getting away from the old British ways of celebrating the festival. The Christian community was consciously trying to celebrate more Indian Christmases, the food styles were changing and it was a period where you would see Indian sweets and dishes taking over from the wine and plum cake regulars. So my childhood saw a very desi Christmas, where thindi’s (as the snacks are called in Kannada) were in fashion.

More recently however, I’ve seen a return to the old British customs. Almost like present day India wants to look back at the British era and be influenced all over again. For example, when I was growing up, it was only a group of very select people, probably with western leanings, who knew about turkey. The rest of us knew that people ate the bird, but always connected it to the west.

Now, however, due to several reasons, globalization being the foremost, such previously ‘foreign’ practices are now as Indian as they could possibly be. I think the new generation prefers this new way of celebrating too, as it’s the ‘in’ thing to be American or European all over again.

The only problem I have however is that Christmases across the world are losing their local charm. It’s funny to see how similar the festival is all across the world these days. We could blame the Chinese for that though (laughs). They’ve single handedly taken over the whole Christmas décor business. But then again, the music seems to be the same the world over too, so we can’t really blame them completely, can we?

To summarize, I think I’ve seen Christmas change from a more Indian festival into a more global one today. Another problem that we’re seeing is the rise of the fundamentalist. People are afraid to say what they really want to say, even during a festival. Rowdy elements seem to be at their peak today, so one can’t really blame the police for clamping down on parties.

Once upon a time, we used to get back home really late during this season. 2 am was early and carol singing went on all night and into the early mornings. Everything seems to have changed.

Malls seem to make it look very nice with all the big displays, which is fine, but what’s scary is the loss of tradition, the loss of what Christmas used to be, the loss of the Indian Christmas. Santa Clause seems to have taken over the imagination of everyone, but what he actually stands for has been lost in the popularity bargain. The actual message of the birth of Christ seems to have been forgotten, sadly.

Ken’s Christmas message: The real message of Christmas is to take the love of God through Jesus to the world.

Prema Gnanakan, grandmother

I grew up in Sri Lanka, then Ceylon, during an extremely British influenced period. Our Christmas was very western. For my twin sister and me, the most interesting thing during the season was to go carol singing for ten days. This was a proper community event and everyone participated — the Hindus, the Buddhists, everyone.

We’d go around inviting ourselves into people’s houses and be fed Marzipan and fresh fruit juices. On Christmas day however, everything would become really solemn, but we’d still have a lot of fun and go to church together and eat together. It was really elaborate and really western though.

Things have changed in Sri Lanka, and in Bangalore too. The joy of celebrating Christmas, which was a non-community based festival, has now become exclusively Christian and there are always trouble causers just waiting to create a nuisance.

We then moved to Mumbai, then Bombay, which was totally different experience, but even there we had Marathi and Gujurati families who’d always be more excited about the festival than us. The roads would be decorated and there would such a lovely sense of celebration, which everyone seemed to be a part of.

We lived in Byculla and in that particular area the celebrations seemed to go on forever. We’d be walking through the streets wishing each other as late as 2 am in the morning and it would still be safe and lots of fun. Bombay was definitely better than Ceylon in that sense.

When it came to Bangalore. I have not seen that much of a change. We moved to the UK for around 6 years in between and when we came back, everything seemed the same. The only difference I see, an that too, more recently, is how busy the present generation is.

Christmas to us was all about spending time with the family and we had a lot of time to do that, especially in this season. That’s changed a lot and so has how much time each family spends with itself. Everyone seems to be so busy these days.

Prema’s Christmas message: This is time for families to get together. It’s a time to invite people to share the joy and warmth of familial bonds and to celebrate the birth of Christ with them.

Anupa Gnanakan, daughter

I’m usually at home during Christmas and so funnily enough, it has always been the same. Yes, we’ve grown older and we now give gifts to each other, but otherwise we’ve celebrated it in the same way as we have since we were kids.

Changes have occurred and I shan’t say I’m oblivious to them. I do see how popular Santa has become and the impressively large number of nativity scenes and cribs around the city does surprise me, but that’s about it.

The meaning of Christmas has surely changed and loads of people do think it’s all about the fun. While I see no harm in that, I would love to see them celebrating it for it the right reason too.

As a single parent however, Christmas has become an amazing time to spend with my two daughters. We get up late, cook together, make Christmas goodies together and bake together. It’s so much fun to go out shopping and eating when you know you’re with your family and know what means fun to them.

Anupa Christmas message: Christmas should be about the birth of our saviour, it should also be about spending time with the family without having anywhere to rush off to. Take a few days off people and please sit at home with your family, that’s the best way to celebrate the season.

Santosh Gnanakan, son:

Christmas has always been the same for me and Bangalore has always been home, at least it’s a home that I remember. My most vivid memory is of growing up to extensive carol singing schedules that would span several days and demanded a lot of energy. It was a period I looked forward to.

As I grew up however I noticed how the time spent on caroling changed and got increasingly lesser. For several reasons, churches and youth groups preferred to carol for fewer hours and on fewer days.

As a family growing older and technically splitting into three families after my sister and me were married, we also seemed to somehow miss out on the yearly Christmas day trips that we religiously went for when we were much younger. This might have been because we took on newer responsibilities and a lot more organizing was required, but the change was obvious.

The other changes are the most obvious ones. Christmas is now more in your face, thanks to marketers who love to squeeze the festival of all that it can do for their sales. What changes in this case however is that, a more affluent population that loves to look west for all influence, makes the Christmas of the west more popular.

Is that wrong? I’m not too sure. I think it’s more about understanding what these symbols mean instead. Santa Claus might be more popular than he should be, but the problem is when he ceases to exist as a person and just becomes a meaningless symbol.

As a person, he’s in equal right to be associated with the festival; after all he was a Saint who wanted to celebrate the birth of Christ too. The secret is therefore to make these related symbols as relevant as they should be.

Santosh’s Christmas message: You need to put in that extra effort to demonstrate the love of the season. Go out, take that extra step and get your hands dirty, if you must, but do something.

Christobelle Joseph Gnanakan, daughter in law

Christmas has changed every year. The essence has changed for me too, because when I was much younger it was about the festivity and about family more than anything else. Eating was huge part of it and even though we are Anglo-Indians, my grandmother’s family had by then become quite Indian.

We too had kalkals and rose cookies like every other Christian family around us, but yes, we also had the extra few traditions like midnight mass and cake and wine soon after. Contrary to popular notions, most Anglo’s are quite sober all through the season. It is usually just wine and no booze. So, ‘no cross dangling around one’s neck as they walk the streets intoxicated’ here. It was a family time, when people from all over the world came back home because it was Christmas.

For my family however, Easter was the bigger celebration and for good reason. We celebrated Easter more splendidly because our father was at home at that time every year. Now, however as a much older and wisened person, I know it’s about the cross. The reason for the season is now much more than Jingle Bells and Santa Claus.

My only fear though is that Christmas might soon evolve into the ‘holiday season’ as it has abroad. The festival is getting more popular, but at the cost of the real message being ignored. Maybe the fault’s with us as Christian families. Maybe, we’ve not been able to get the right message across and that’s surely something that we have to be worried about.

Christobelle’s Christmas message: It’s all about peace. Jesus is the prince of peace to all of us and his message at the end of the day is all about peace. Shalom or Salaam, it’s all about peace at the end of the day.

Tabeah Gnanakan, granddaughter

Christmas to me is about the birth of Jesus Christ. I love the late night services at church and spending time at home

Keyah Gnanakan, granddaughter

Christmas is Jesus’ birthday and I love the cooking, shopping and everything about it. most of all, I love making the crib.

Tara Gnanakan, granddaughter

Christmas is about the tree and the chocolates and the biscuits and the chocolate cake.

Bite into this!

2009-11-19T17:55:00.000-08:00

I woke up this afternoon, completely sure I had been bit. Bit by what you ask? Twilight fever of course! What else could occupy the mind of one such as me — occult-curious, slightly deviant and oh-so-into hunky men? Who am I kidding? This was just the millionth time I had fantasized about my ‘someone special’ being a Vampire.

My obsession with Vampires dates back to when I was 12 [‘dates back’ — makes me already sound like a Vamp(ire)!]. My horror movie lover brother, hired a ‘banned cassette’ from our local VHS store when my parents were out on work. We were home alone for 3 days and nights, and we ensured we had enough of scary movies to keep us awake till the early hours of morn each day.

One of those naughty taboo indulgences, at least one of them that stayed with me till date is ‘An interview with a Vampire’. Based on Ann Rice’s brilliantly written novel with the same name, the masterpiece was a visual orgasm, complete with an almost deific looking cast (all Vampires though, how ironic!), an evil and yet beautiful homoerotic storyline, and a thin narrative that somehow managed to connect deviant vampirism, mainstream sexuality and taboo raw passion in a way I’d never seen before. Well, I was 12 and I won’t exaggerate on how it actually influenced me. I was petrified and quite scared to be completely honest. I kept dreaming that I’d been bitten and even swore I saw a Vampire several times. That apart, what my young mind did remember was the physical beauty in each of the individuals portrayed.

Vampires have always been portrayed as beautiful things. Myths and legends around the world claim the ‘supposed species’ have a weak spot for the ravishingly beautiful and won’t think twice to make one such, one of their own. Vampires are often deviously handsome or pretty, are extremely well mannered and possess such sexual prowess that only the chastest could resist their charm.

So, do I believe in Vampires, you ask? Well, I do, as much as I believe in Cro-Magnon man and the River Saraswati, things I’ve never really seen, but believe to exist. Why do I believe in them, you ask? Well. these blood sucking pretty things have always occupied the imagination of cultures as far spread as Puerto Rico and China and that can’t be a simple coincidence. The animal like hunger that these ‘creatures’ have for feeding on fresh blood is often the most tantalizing, terrifying and titillating element of their deviant existence. I don’t know of even one ‘sexually mature’ friend, of either gender, who hasn’t fantasized of biting or being bitten quite vampirously at least once. Almost all of us do it. I even have a theory that the ‘hickey’ that’s so popular (love bite for the more romantic) is nothing but a more subtle version of these ravenous lustful desires.

So what is it that drives women (and several men) up the wall squealing in anticipation to be the next victim (even in role play) of some gorgeous Vampire? (Read Robert Pattison) and why do we all get so riled up about how gorgeous and seductively evil the whole concept of blood sucking can be? I think it’s just the need for raw passion. Raw unbridled seductively evil passion that we all crave from our individual partners. Something that we assume will give us immense pleasure and yes, also the fact that most Vampires are HOT and extremely do-able. Watching re-runs of the trailers however I have just realised that while Vampires do turn me on in a ‘special way’, post New Moon and Taylor Lautner, Werewolves now occupy a ‘special’ place in my list of fantasies too! All I’m going to say for now is (and I mean it), Taylor Swift, move aside girl, you’ve got stiff competition! Lol :P

Washing this anger away

2009-11-10T16:05:00.000-08:00

It’s been over a month now, and two weeks since I’ve sat down to write something about life in this new city. I’ve had lots to say and a lot more to share, but circumstances and an overcoming sense of lethargy always seemed to get the better of me. Lethargy in a city that thrives on an irrepressible buzzing energy and uncontrollable raging hormones — you ask — raising that ever-indulging eyebrow? Yes, LETHARGY and loads of it! The weather’s changed, but nothing else seems to have moved an inch, including me, much like that ‘normal’ traffic jam I was in, the other day. I was stuck in a Taxi on a flyover halfway between Byculla and Palton Road, all thanks to a meeting held by Mr Marathi Manoos Saviour (read Raj Thackeray and his MNS) at the Haj Committee building. The jam lasted for an hour and a half and I said nothing. I didn’t even complain! Funnily, I actually took time out to enjoy the free birds view of South Mumbai that I was ‘treated’ to. It wasn’t pleasant, at least not here. Picture me doing this in Namma Ooru. Me, who moved residence to the centre of town only because I couldn’t take the occasional 15-minute traffic hold up at Silk Board flyover, was now twiddling my thumbs, humming tunes and karaokeying to my MP3 player as vehicles stalled all around me for miles in either direction. Was I becoming an escapist? If escapism suddenly meant to want to run away, I wondered later. Frankly, I believe it’s the city to blame. What else could it possibly be? Like some unexplainable paradox, this city’s chaotic life often leaves someone like me blissfully and unalterably lethargic. With everyone going mad trying to reach work on time, catch that train on time, get to that mall on time, date bf/gf on time, eat on time, drink on time and the like, I preferred giving myself loads of extra hours with practically nothing to do. So, how did I keep myself occupied you ask? Well, it was simple actually. Here’s what my itinerary looked like a few days ago, purely for example’s sake. Wake up at 11 am. Get ready by 1 pm. Take cab to Goregaon (approx 20 kms away) at 2 pm. Watch Tamil/Telugu movie at strange slippery-floored mall (read Oberoi) for ‘jusht chumma’ sake at around 4 pm. Take a cab back to Parel after movie. Sit at home and stare at feet for another hour or so. Take cab to Colaba to meet ‘love interest’ or friend or both. Hang out at Theobroma’s, eat at Bagdadi’s or sit at Marine Drive and stare at crashing waves…right!…dead sea. Wonder what I’m doing here still, get depressed, then eventually bored, take cab back home. Sleep. Mumbai does have its charm. Maybe just that I am not the kind to be charmed by it. There is magic in the air, yes, but there’s also lots of dust, the ever present smell of fish and a stale dank sordid feeling that will never leave you. The rain today washed away most of my anger towards the city. Anger that some considered sinful to even mention. As I folded up my pants and ran to office carefully avoiding puddles with unmentionable and unclassifiable remnant goo, I missed clear waters with an aching for home that choked me. I miss Bangalore’s rains, the madness and juvenilia in the puddles and the fresh, clean gorgeous city after the rain. How I envy you, while you read this. You, who can run out after the next shower and be a kid all over again. You who breathe in that city I adore. Save it for me, please, I beg. I am on my way home.

Simply Fabulous, I say!

2009-08-28T12:45:00.000-07:00

Quick Gun Murugan is brilliant to say the least. With an amazing script and a hilarious storyline,this tale of an entertainingly created and superbly portrayed cowboy super-hero is sure to be one of the year's best comedies.
Cast: Rajendra Prasad, Rambha, Nasser and Raju Sundaram
Director: Shashanka Ghosh

Take the accent and dialogues of one of Tamil cinemas' most famous faces (read Rajnikanth), who is Marathi;add to that the style of a king of the yesteryears (read MGR), who is Malayali; get an actor who is of Teluguorigin to play the part (read Rajendra Prasad) and what do you have? Quick Gun Murugan, yes, but more importantly, one of the best pan-south Indian comedies ever made!

Quick Gun Murugan is caricaturing taken to the levels of a fine art. With elements thrown in from every corner of every state south of the Vindhyas, the accents and stylisations alone can make you pass through this one, thoroughly satisfied. A storyline that is simply the homework of someone who knows what being South Indian really means, be prepared to laugh your head off at the stereotypes represented to perfection.

The performances are amazing too. Rajendra Prasad is brilliant as Murugan. His natural talent for aping the icons combined with his problematic good looks (read Telugu good looks), add up to an interesting mix, that will surpriseyou at every stage.

Rambha as Mango Dolly is fun. She seems to have enjoyed the role thoroughly and that's evident in herhilarious on-screen portrayal of Dolly. I particularly liked Raju Sundaram as MBA. It's been quite some time since we saw his brand of comedy on screen. The out and out stealer is however Nasser. With his Telugu accent and mannerisms, he's sureto tickle the funny bone of anyone who's ever seen a 'mass' Telugu movie. What worked in the English version of the film was the huge chunk of sub-titled Tamil dialogues. Not only did they add extra much-needed flavour, but they retained an authenticity that would have otherwise been lost.

The cameos by Anu Menon(Lola Kutty) and Vinay Pathak were amazing, but Ranvir Shorey as the sansani reporter was the winner! The music stands out all through the film and most of the audience was humming some tune or the other from the filmas we left the show.

This one is an all out entertainer, so take your friends and family or take them each separately,because we're sureyou wouldn't mind watching the movie all over again, several times. I am surely going to!

Mind it, I say!

2009-08-19T18:39:00.001-07:00

Mind it! Quick Gun Murugan might be the next funniest thing to hit Bollywood, but to someone like me, I’m not too sure that’s good humour anymore. In what seems to be a trend these days, television and the ad industry are cashing in on the supposed South Indian accent, and making loads of money at the expense of ridiculing a community. What’s wrong in that you say? Well, to begin, let’s talk about the concept. The idea of a South Indian accent, as has been endorsed so brilliantly by Bollywood over the last few decades, is a farce. I will agree that there might have been something similar that was spoken, which in turn was exaggerated beyond recognition into the ugly sounding parlance that is now passed off as South-Indian-speak. Why is that wrong you say? Well, it’s wrong because it’s factually incorrect, as factually incorrect as another existing notion that all Sardarji’s are stupid. The accents in the South are as interesting as accents get. Often as students of language, one cannot but marvel at the way these accents have evolved. Take for example phrases like, ‘Simply Adjust Maadi’ – a phrase that defines a whole generation and the ideology it stands for. Or for example the interesting ‘Tanglish’ (Tamil-English) words that have no English equivalent. I mean can the much-researched process of roaming around an area that houses one’s ‘heartbeat’ be more eloquently expressed than with the usage of the word ‘Suththify’? It’s just a joke, why take it so seriously, you ask? Well, I agree at some point it was funny. The days of the ‘ek chathura-naar’ being the funniest song on television have long gone and the accent that’s supposedly South-Indian over done with half a dozen Mithunda movies. Sridevi actually has a natural South-Indian accent and had to put on a fake, more identifiable South Indian accent for ‘Malini Iyer.’ Who even does that and more importantly why? Lola Kutty is funny and thankfully she’s appreciated for her sense of humour that is only made funnier with the Malabar-Twang, but cross your heart and swear that you’ve only heard Malayalis speak with that far-fetched accent? It’s not like movies haven’t ridiculed accents in good taste! Read ‘Thenali’ or the more recent ‘Dasavathaaram,’ where Kamal Hassan pulled off a brilliant Telugu accent, that was appreciated by several Telugites themselves. Shah Rukh Khan trying to be all South-Indian and funny on the other hand, the lesser said the better. Yes, all the North Indians in the theatre laughed their heads off, while one half of the South-Indians giggled just to please the crowd and the others, like me, swore that Bollywood was the last thing we’d turn to for comedy. Believe me that was a choice well taken. Rajnikanth might be an icon and his way of speaking at times hilarious. What Bollywood fails to realise is that South-India is evolving into a far prouder demographic. We love the way we are and some of us even see sense in our peculiarities, for good reason. With such a wave of newfound self-respect and love, Quick Gun Murugan might not be the best movie for us to be so excited about. Yes, we’ll still watch it and yes we’ll enjoy it, but that’s only cause we don’t mind laughing at ourselves and of course, Bollywood – will they ever get it? But for those of you who are planning to laugh in ridicule, all I’m going to say is – Mind it!

Prevention is better than cure?

2009-08-17T14:32:00.000-07:00

“I am feeling faint, I feel sick, maybe I have swine flu, lol :P” read the status message of a friend just a few minutes ago. While I should commend this friend of mine for being so silly and brave while the whole city runs mad with swine flu panic, I also think maybe we’re taking it a tad too lightly. But then again are we? I remember my mother (the ever wise) always saying, “Eat well, and nothing can harm you.” Sometimes I wish it were that simple. A look at me and any one worth an opinion would swear that I am a good-eater and I am indeed! Is that why I don’t fall sick too often (touch wood)? But then, what about falling ill, being apparently poisoned by food, hardly a week ago. “Oh! That’s just bad luck,” my mother would say and I might just have to agree. Food experiences in India revolve largely on the notions of luck.Indians are world-renowned for being tough creatures. Yes, we are a prime example of the human race, evolved in every sense, tough from the inside and the outside. Our food is considered unhealthy, why even poisonous to a few, and yet we thrive and consume kilos of these ‘oriental delicacies’ per day and stay perfectly fine. We actually grow eating it, as much as many westerners might find that surprising. Hygiene is re-defined in the country’s many food-lanes. If it smells ok, the food looks clean and the cook has a smile on his face, the food is safe – any old grandmother would agree. Our stomachs have been lined since the day we were born with layers of protective coatings and most of the time, the old-oil from that last plate of pakodas, wouldn’t elicit a burp while it might have poisoned a whole township in Seattle. We’re tough yes, we agree! Yet, we’re also the same species who will run like wild animals to the nearest hospital the moment an epidemic is announced. “Doctor! My eyes are red, do I have swine flu,” a doctor friend was genuinely asked, by a patient earlier today. Remember Chikungunya? How we all thought we had it? Maybe panicking comes naturally to us, as a people plagued by epidemics for centuries (read the innumerous plagues and virus epidemics we’ve faced over the last few centuries). So maybe, it’s in our blood. But need we worry that much?All I’m saying is, “We’re Indians!” Fine! Be concerned and do keep track of what’s happening to your body, but the next time you feel an itch in your nose, please do take a minute to consider that all you need is a good scratch, not the run to the nearest swine flu center.

Maathey Malayadhwaja Paandya Sanjaathey...

2009-08-08T05:06:00.000-07:00

I first heard this beautiful krithi raagam in Morning Raaga and I'm forever indebted to the movie, its makers and everyone who was involved in getting me to watch it, for it has become a part of my daily life... and I just can't seem to pass one whole day without one hearing of this amazing rendition...The following is the link from youtube of the Original Morning Raaga video of the song, which is also the beginning of the movie. What a way to start...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIYFIvhLO98

Here are the lyrics in all the languages I could use to write it in...Hope its of some use to anyone!I know I might have made a few spelling mistakes, especially in the Tamizh version where I was torn between the use of the grantha alphabets or the native equals... I chose the grantha :

மாதே மலைய த்வஜ பான்ட்ய ஸந்ஜாதே...

மாதங்க வதன குஹ ஸஹொதரி ஷன்கரி சாமுண்டேஷ்வரி...

சந்திரகலாதரி, தாயே கௌரி...

માતે મલયધ્વજા પંડય સંજાતે...

માતંગ વદન ગુહા સહોદરી શંકરી ચામુંડેશ્વરી...

ચંદ્રકલાદરી તાયે ગૌરિ...

ಮಾತೆ ಮಲಯಧ್ವಜ ಪಂದ್ಯ ಸಂಜಾತೆ...

ಮಾತಂಗ ವದನ ಗುಹ ಸಹೋದರಿ ಶಂಕರಿ ಚಾಮುಂಡೇಶ್ವರಿ...

ಚಂದ್ರಕಲಾದರಿ ತಾಯೆ ಗೌರಿ...

മാതെ മലയധ്വജ പാണ്ട്യ സന്ജാതെ...

മാതംഗ വദന ഗുഹ സഹോദരി ശങ്കരി ചാമുന്ടെശ്വരി...

ചന്ദ്രകലാതറി തായേ ഗൌരി...

మాతే మలయధ్వజ పాండ్య సంజాతే...

మాతంగ వదన గుహ సహోదరి శాంకరి చాముండేశ్వరి...

చంద్రకలాదరి తాయే గౌరీ...

Betrayed by a Democracy

2009-08-07T13:51:00.000-07:00

This is a piece that appeared edited in the MidDay Bangalore a day after the fake encounter... Here's the unedited version...
Pic Courtesy: Tehelka

A quick glance through Tehelka’s exclusive coverage of the fake encounter in Imphal yesterday is a piece of evidence that’s been long pending. Our country is no more a nation but a set of individualistic territories not willing to give up their differentiating identities. Can a nation be more nihilistic? For years as a young Manipuri-Tamizh, I tried explaining my stand as an Indian to groups of intellectuals who always tried to convince me that our country had gone terribly wrong. I wanted to have faith. I wanted to believe in the idealistic India – a country that was a home to many, a nation built on difference, bound by a constitutionally guaranteed equality. I did believe, wholeheartedly, till I moved to Manipur in early 1999. Hardly a month in the state and I realized how naïve I actually was. Nothing seemed democratic in the state anymore. A deteriorating educational system, backed by a powerless government, that had plunged the state into a virtual black age. Troops from the Indian army had taken law into their own hands for a long time by then and funnily enough locals who were in the Indian army also indulged in these acts that can only take one name - Opression. Fine, the local people had asked for a separate state. Yes, they were an armed militia and of course, a few groups were always associated with illegal activities like extortions and abductions – but where was the army being any different? My two-year stint in the state came to and end and I ran back to the south to complete my education. Vague and often muted cries of help did catch my attention, and an occasional Manorama did make it to the national headlines, but that was it. I was blissfully ignorant and content. I spent my time researching culture and falling in love with the India of my dreams. My degree in journalism helped me get involved with the local media and I realized that the inequalities in this country were far too many. My India was no more the place I dreamt it was. It was it's ugly opposite that was the reality I saw. States oppressed communities by holding back infrastructure – read Telengana, and others suppressed the rich cultural heritage of minorities in bargain for a more unificatory identity – read Karnataka. Some states even went to the point of declaring state religions and imposing compulsory prayers in government school like the incomparable Madhya Pradesh. India seemed to be a democracy only in our constitution. The real story was something else altogether. It was hard to make comparisons and decide who was suffering the most. It was however obvious that the only states suffering from nothing less than a central controlled military backed opressive rule were the 3 North Eastern states of Assam, Manipur and Nagaland and Jammu & Kashmir in the North. These regimes were however justified by the government as security measures. The world knows enough about the Kashmir issue, but the plight of the North East is still one of the least reported military backed crime sagas. With the brilliant coverage given by Tehelka on the supposed encounter, it’s now for the world to see how our centre responds. Will the centre care enough to clean up these crimes and give satisfactory explanations to the people of Manipur or like always will they ignore it long enough and hope it disappears like a bad dream? The world is watching and this time the country is watching too – the core of our democratic India is finally being questioned. Can we blame this one on the militia too? And since we’re asking, are we really sure we’re not involved in Baluchistan’s terrorism as claimed? Are we that sure about anything anymore?

My Vision for India

2009-07-18T09:59:00.000-07:00

A piece originally written for a magazine article that might never ever get published... Decided to publish it here...

The India we live in, is an India I love; ever changing and chaotic – a quality that’s often inevitable and necessary. Being a 22 year old gay man who has been associated with the media for the last five years – I now realise, know fully well and believe that India, as a democracy, has hope. I, like many others in my age group, grew up in a country filled with hypocrisy, double standards, failing government machinery, under-representation and stark ethnic biases. The country was defined by its several paradoxes, almost like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that would never fit in and yet we thrived and grew into thinking individuals. Representing varied ethnicities from, quite literally, corners of the country; I grew up in a family that imbibed, what I would like to call, ‘true Indian-ness’. We belonged to several cultures, had diverse religious backgrounds and evolved into the Indian who lived in peace and co-existence. We were, to put it simply, the post-independent-unified-India’s perfect Indian family. Language was never our barrier; because we chose a language that was ours and yet not ours – English, that belonged to everyone. The country, for as long as I remember, had violent and vehement identity politics at the very base of its functioning. Be it the less publicised ostracising of North-easterner’s, or the more vocal, obvious and often colour-based South-North divide. Communities that refused to fall under the well-camouflaged, yet widely implemented homogenising processes, had to bear the brunt and still do, by being considered enemies of the majority. Be it the Dravidian movement of the South or the Secessionist movements in the North-east and Kashmir, the only linking character has been the resentment of a culture imposed. The same can be said of the gay community, who even after a legal verdict in their favour, are still being judged, persecuted and pushed to the fringes of society, all in the name of majority politics. Will minorities ever have a right to exist equally? When did the majorities start to matter and why? Or rather, when did this anonymous majority, which does not really have one singular representational face, start feeling claustrophobic by every extra right given to the minorities? Why is there a need to impose a uniform culture in a country that prides itself in its diversity and for that matter why do we have one official Language of India? These questions will never be answered; the answers might just prove how un-democratic we’ve come to be. The future of India is in equality. Till, we as educated citizens of a well-rooted democracy, fight for every right that has been held back, things might never change. I envision India to be the democracy that will show the way to the world. We do have our loopholes in all our systems, but as long as we are motivated to demand what we deserve, the future seems worth-it. The struggle has just begun; we are fighting for a new kind of Independence; an Independence from our devolved selves.
We need to realise that we define India, India doesn’t define us.

Being Gay in Christ.

2009-07-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

This is a piece I had written for DNA Mumbai and was published soon after the prides in three cities across the country.

I do not speak as an authority on Christianity’ but as a Christian who defines his life through his faith in Christ. The religion to me is a way of life and my choices, ethics and beliefs are built around the very core of Christ’s teachings. Christianity as I have understood it is a religion that teaches you that love is indeed supreme. As long as two people are convinced that they are in love and are not negatively affecting or influencing anyone else’s existence by being in love, they ought to be allowed to continue to exist in such a relationship. The faith has always called for acceptance and tolerance, always preferring the former. The church, catholic or otherwise, has been against homosexual relationships because as a structured organisation it has believed in their ‘deviance’. The religion as it has evolved looks at the institution of marriage with a rather one-minded approach, that of procreation and since most such supposedly ‘unnatural’ alliances cannot create life, they are deemed useless and even furthered to be sinful. Several interpretative readings of certain passages in the Bible are often used as the basis of this biased reasoning. My only question is, when did our churches forget, that Christ himself accepted. Churches will agree that Christianity is defined as a religion of fellowship, but they seem to forget that often more than not, it is more importantly defined as a religion of personal faith. I believe I am at peace with my personal faith and my sexuality and hence if the people I fellowship with or the church that I worship at have an issue with my sexuality, I will not think twice to disassociate myself with either. The choice at the end of the day is in accepting as Christ would have accepted, or in creating rules based on general biases that keep the ‘different’ out of the church. The church of today will have to consider the future of the religion, the teachings of Christ and then make this important choice.

Madras suththi paakuh ponaen!

2009-03-28T02:48:00.000-07:00

I finally visited Chennai and thanks to the unending friendship of someone close, I ended up staying in hotels all through. Good for me. I got to see more of the city this way. As bad as the trip was, Chennai appeals to me and so here’s my list of why Chennai rocks and why it doesn’t. I’ve further added a comparison to Hyderabad, my least favourite city in South India for now, just to make comparisons more interesting!

What I like about Chennai:
1) The quaint white bridges, everywhere!
2) The super cool radio stations that always play my kinda music
3) Road names that speak volumes.
4) The central looking Central Station
5) The green. (It’s a myth that Chennai is not green enough!)
6) The friendly auto drivers, always willing to help.
7) The bus services that seem to run the city.
8) The stretches of beautiful beaches, finally looked after.
9) The street food – Yummy!
10) The fact that whatever happens, the city will always remain heavily Tamizh.

What I hate about Chennai:
1) The fact that every area looks the same! How!
2) That cable TV translates into well… 20 Tamizh channels.
3) The weather!!!!!!!
4) The lack of a Central shopping district/entertainment district.
5) The seeming lack of water.
6) The exorbitant auto rates and the fact that they don’t use the metres.
7) The ancient buses (Sorry! If Bangalore can afford a new fleet, so can Chennai!)
8) The lack of proper restaurants to eat at or the lack of choice thereof.
9) The superb ability of the city to make you feel useless.
10) The madness called life, where anyone can get lost.

Chennai V/S Hyderabad
1) Chennai has a local train system, Hyderabad has a metro rail system that runs on the same tracks but is extremely affordable and efficient – Metro wins
2) Chennai has amazing roads and the dust always seems settled, Hyderabad is a dusty paradise where breathing can become difficult if you’re not used to it – Chennai wins
3) I do not see garbage in Chennai, Hyderabad stinks of garbage – Chennai wins
4) Chennai has the Koovam, Hyderabad has the Moosi – Hyderabad wins even though they both stink terribly
5) Chennai offers more to do all over the city, Hyderabad has too few and all concentrated in a very unappealing area – Neither win! Bangalore wins.

Simply put – Bangalore rocks! :)

கன்றாவி பயலே!

2009-03-16T03:32:00.000-07:00

I am angry! Seriously I am, I can’t show it, என் என்றால் I never have been able to, but for the sake of my own sanity, this blogpost is of the necessary right now!

I met this கன்றாவி பயலே long ago, six months to be exact and I fell for him. We became good friends and started singing இளையராஜா பாடல்கள் quite early. Now for a ஜுஜுபி like me, singing all these இனிமையான பாடல்கள்'s is equate to ಲೌ…
I am thinking for him also same to same…
But here’s where it all goes ಬೇಜಾರ್!
Apparently his கணவர் ditched him long times ago and left him a ദേവദാസന്‍. Now that is not my fault. My இனிய காதலன் also did that at least 4 years ago after one സുഖമാന 3 year ళౌ! But I got over it, he didn’t and this is six years after his.
Fine! All that is ok, but so much confusion ಯಾಕೆ?

He says he loves me one week ago, and now he says I have never been the one. I knew that from before wonly. And I always kept distance. But after sharing cot and firsht night like scenario with him, of course little more needs will come no?
Maybe I am too தமிழன் and all these friend with benefits – கூட்டாளி type emotions I cannot grasp… but for that I must get this type reaction ಆ?
Anyway, to close it all… For the సమాప్తం of this decade… I decide to give myself more भाव. He may be cute and he may know all my favourite songs and he may be தமிழ், but that doesn’t mean he is my only வசீகரன். I will find one more ಮನ್ಮಧಾ soon and this time I hope my आशिक stays with me என்றென்றும்!

Aditi makes my day!

2009-02-27T15:05:00.000-08:00

It’s his birthday today and for the first time in 3 years I am not beside him, bringing it in with him. I’m sure he hasn’t realised it, but I knew it would be the hardest night yet, so I decided to watch a movie, alone. Most of you’ll would say that’s the worst thing to do… But I’m happy I did it. Dilli 6 was one of those movies I would have never watched, simply because I don’t really care for either Abhishek Bachchan or Sonam Kapoor. The movie however helped me get through those painful 3 hours and I ended up enjoying the movie immensely for several reasons…
1) I could cry my heart out in the darkness and the movie had several scenes that elicited such responses…
2) The supporting cast were brilliant – Aditi Rao Hydari at her cherubimic best, and Divya Dutta – worshippable!
3) The music was by AR Rehman. It caught my imagination from ‘GO’…
4) And the cinematography was excellent.
Save a pathetic storyline that could have been crisper and a clichéd narrative, I actually enjoyed the film – a first for a Hindi movie in more than a year…
Happy Birthday Boo and I wish we were still together, but fate has its own plans and neither of us can control that.

Aditi Rao Hydari, the beauty from Sringaaram is back and I am as excited as I can be. I remember being mesmerized by her simple good looks in that film and her nonchalance and confidence in being able to lip sync a whole Tamil movie and do it so well! The Sadir pieces in that movie were breathtaking and her performance shall go down in Tamil Cinema as one of the best portrayals of a Devadasi.

I hope a bright future is in store for this girl as she makes her Hindi debut with Dilli 6 and I also look forward to seeing her in more Tamil films…

ஏன் இந்து மாயமோ, என்னை அறியாமோ?...

This is Fashion!

2009-02-26T13:01:00.000-08:00

Watched the movie Fashion again and all I can say is I am happy I bought the DVD! This was one hell of a re-watch and the movie is really one of the best that released this last year. Do watch the movie if you haven’t and I’m sure you’ll find a reason to love it. I already have and have found one reason too many! Samir Soni being one of the most obvious and many others, including Kangana Ranaut and Priyanka Chopra. Mugdha Godse is a class apart though and her being paired up with Madhur came as no surprise… Wasn’t he gay though?
फैशन का हैं यह जलवा!

அஹம் பிரம்ஹஸ்மி!

2009-02-23T11:54:00.000-08:00

ಅಹಂ ಬ್ರಮ್ಹಸ್ಮಿ!

అహం బ్రమ్హస్మి!

അഹം ബ്രംചസ്മി!

Aham Bramhasmi!

अहम ब्रम्हस्मि

Ellam Pugazhum Iraivanukkuh!

2009-02-23T01:54:00.000-08:00

எல்லாம் புகழும் இறைவனுக்கு!

To God be all the Glory/Praise!

He said it! Yes, HE DID! An in one split second he created Oscar History, at least for people like me, he did! AR Rehman, my god when it comes to music, lived up to my expectations and did me proud by speaking in Achchuh Tamizh, when he received his Oscar late last night. It might seem trivial to most, especially when you think I am excited about three words that he might have just decided to say, but what you don’t seem to understand is that he did justice to the one million Tamizh brethren all across the globe, hoping he would do something like that.
Tamizhars have always fought for their due. With a language that is well, personally, one of the most evolved, and a civilization that is on par with any of the great olds – we as a people have always been underplayed when it comes to fair representation. Tamizh’s around the world have however, since time immemorial, taken it upon themselves to propagate their way of life and everything it represents, so people would know they exist and partake of what they have to offer and believe me, they have a lot!
We’ve been the first to speak in our own native tongue at the parliament in India, where Hindi was the only other option to English for a long long time. We were the first to start anti-Hindi movements when it was undemocratically made the national language of India (many have now emulated the concept and India is soon on its way to become truly democratic, at least linguistically!), and we’re the second language from India to have received an International Classical Language status, seconding only Sanskrit. Tamizh is also the only Asian language other than Chinese to be recognised as an official language in more than two countries in the world. In India, it is the official language of the state of Tamil Nadu, in Srilanka it is the second national language and in Malaysia and Singapore, it is recognised as an official language that can be used for quite a few legal proceedings too.
But why am I so proud?

Why am I so Tamizh? And why do I associate myself so much with all that this culture and language stands for? I have never felt the need to explain myself, but I shall try to do so…
Tamizh is a part of me. It flows in my blood and has influenced me from a very young age. I may have been born in a small mountainous village in Churachandpur District in Manipur, but ever since I can remember anything, I have been Tamizh.
I grew up in Kotagiri, the hometown of many Kota families who together make up the larger Kota tribe native to the Nilgiris. I was however brought up by an Ilangai Tamizh nanny (Sri Lankan Tamil) who spoke to me in her beautiful accent in all those formative years. It’s not like my mother ignored me, she was always there when I needed her, but she was a headmistress and had lots of other work. So I grew up learning this language that would later shape my life and every decision I took.
The first song that I clearly remember falling in love with was “Chinnuh Chinnuh Vannuh Kuyil” from Mouna Raagam. That song also introduced Revathy into my life – a she has been a motivation and an adonai ever since.
I grew up eventually, again surrounded by everything Tamizh, but my awakenings as a Tamizhar occurred only when I was around 10 years old. A beautiful Iyengaaruh Tamizh fanatic walked into my life then, in the form of a teacher. Her name was Janaki and she was as immaculate to me as the Madurai Meenaatchi. Interestingly she was also from Madurai and spoke Tamizh in an accent that I found truly divine. There was nothing she didn’t know, no Kural she couldn’t recite, no Paadal she couldn’t sing and no history about the Tamizh’s that she couldn’t give me an accurate narrative about. I was a fan. She taught me to love the language, respect its finesse, glorify its prose, romanticize its poetry and more importantly to give my life to understanding, worshipping and conquering it, as ironically places as those words might be.
There has been no turning back. I moved to Manipur where again I encountered another face of Tamizh. It’s connection to the Meitei language. The more ready acceptance of Tamizh over Hindi and the un-ignorable cultural connects. The more recently developing Political connects and the fact that a lot of Meitei revolutionaries respect Tamizhars for their constant fight to preserve their culture and identity. Tamizh has thus evolved into an ideology. An example that people can learn from! So what, if your home country treats you like you aren’t worth it! You can always prove your worth in other ways.
Tamizh’s have not yet asked for the independence of the Tamizh state and that’s a surprise. If I were a leader, Tamil Nadu would have been an independent country over 30 years ago, but our leaders seem to have more sense and I do not mean our political leaders here. We all still believe in India. We believe that she can be a motherland to many and yet be fair. We believe that unity can be achieved in diversity and that mutual respect and co-operation can take this country forward. We still believe in the Indian dream, something that our founding fathers and mothers saw more than 60 years ago and we still have hope.
So Rehman accepting his award and then speaking in Tamizh is a part of this struggle. Yes, he did speak in Hindi too, as it is our national language and maybe he likes the language too! But to be proud of who he is and where he comes from and to so openly speak in his native tongue on stage – is something we will always respect him for. Tamizh has finally conquered the Oscars too, what’s next?

From Gudaloor to Dhanushkodi…
From Pulicat to Kaniyakumari…
Udal Mannukkuh…
Uyir Tamizhukkuh!

கூடலூரில்லுந்து தனுஷ்கோடி வரை...

புலிகட்-இல்லுந்து கன்னியாகுமரி வரை...

உடல் மண்ணுக்கு...

உயிர் தமிழுக்கு!

Where is the Party? Eh, Tamizhnaat-Luh!

2009-02-21T01:32:00.000-08:00

This song has been my favourite for such a long time and this blog post is really really late. So here’s to my present caller tune – “Where is the party?” from Silambaattam. I’ve transcribed it to the best of my abilities and couldn’t manage just two lines that are in a thick Chennai accent. Anyone who is a proud Singaaruh Chennai’ite can help me out with those and I will edit and re-post the entry then :)

Hey Dolamaiyya Daalmaiyya Dolamaiyya Daiyya…
Hey Paiyya, Hey Daiyya…
Hey Dumilley Dumilley Dumang Dumang Goiyya…
Hey Dumang Dumang Paiyya…
Hey Dumilley Dumilley Dumang Dumang Goiyya…

Eenamma Pannallaa,
Disco-vukku Povallaa?
Vodka-vuh Podallaa,
Oedi-Paadi Aadallaa?
Aal-dready Neram Aachuh…
Pub-em Dhaaney Moodi Poechuh.

Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh Parrty…
Eh, Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Nammuh-Ootluh Parrty!

Eenamma Pannallaa,
Disco-vukku Povallaa?
Vodka-vuh Podallaa,
Oedi-Paadi Aadallaa?
Aal-dready Neram Aachuh…
Pub-em Dhaaney Moodi Poechuh.

Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh Parrty…
Eh, Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Nammuh-Ootluh Parrty!

Saturday Night-Enno Clubbing Dhaanney…
Adhuh Leven-Thirty-Kke Mooduh-Nna Boring Dhaaney!
Poleesuh Rrombuh Ippoeh Shtrict-Aanuhdhaey…
Nammuh Yooth-Manasuh Rrombuh Vex-Aanuhdhaey!
House Parrty Kooduh Ippoeh Illuhvey Illuhvaa?
Pakaththuh Ootuh-kaaruh Rombuh Rombuh Tholluhvaa?
Yennatha Life-Fuh Idhuh, Yenjaai Panruh Vaisuh Idhuh?

Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh Parrty…
Eh, Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Nammuh-Ootluh Parrty!

Hey Dolamaiyya Daalmaiyya Dolamaiyya Daiyya…
Hey Paiyya, Hey Daiyya…
Hey Dumilley Dumilley Dumang Dumang Goiyya…
Hey Dumang Dumang Paiyya…
Hey Dumilley Dumilley Dumang Dumang Goiyya…

Eenamma Pannallaa,
Disco-vukku Povallaa?
Vodka-vuh Podallaa,
Oedi-Paadi Aadallaa?
Aal-dready Neram Aachuh…
Pub-em Dhaaney Moodi Poechuh.

Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh Parrty…
Eh, Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Nammuh-Ootluh Parrty!

Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh…
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Huh-huh Yenguh-Ootluh…
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Naduh-Roetluh ‘Mma!
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah! Tamilnaat-Luh…

Some garbled Chennai Lingo that I cannot transliterate or even understand

(Someone can help me on this! Lol!)

Simbu: ‘Ddaeh! Nee Onniiyoo Kavaluh-Padadhae…
Nammuh Aanaa Tamilnaat-Ike Parrty Dhaa…

Munn-Ellaa Oruh Ponnuh Vennum-Nna…
Naanguh College-Ikkum Bus Stand-Ikkum Poenoem-Inguh! Uh-uh!
Ippella Oruh Ponnuh Vennum-Nna…
Neenguh Club-Kkum Pub-Kkum Dhaa Varanoom-Ingoeh!
Ootlindhuh Pogumboedhuh Ellatheiyyum Marruhkreenguh…
Pub-buh Kulleh Paartha Ellatheiyyum Korruhpeenguh…
Onnu Kuththoe Sollaadhae…
Santhosaththae Kollaadhae…

Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh Parrty…
Eh, Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Nammuh-Ootluh Parrty!

Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh…
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah! Naduh-Roetluh
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah! Tamilnaat-Luh…

Eenamma Pannallaa,
Disco (X4)
Vodka-vuh (X4)
Vodka-vuh Podallaa,
Oedi-Paadi Aadallaa?

Eenamma Pannallaa,
Disco-vukku Povallaa?
Vodka-vuh Podallaa,
Oedi-Paadi Aadallaa?
Aal-dready Neram Aachuh…
Pub-em Dhaaney Moodi Poechuh.

Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh Parrty…
Eh, Vere is the Parrty?
Ah Nammuh-Ootluh Parrty!

Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah Unguh-Ootluh…
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah! Naduh-Roetluh
Vere is the Parrty Tonight?
Ah! Tamilnaat-Luh (X4)

Here’s the Youtube link to the song…
Do watch it :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsdBDqYwPMw

Samir Soni(ed) alright!

2009-02-18T12:48:00.000-08:00

I’ve spoken to him and we chatted all night – and then I was convinced that straight men can be the sweetest things on earth and I’m not kidding!

Let me start where it all began. So I was supposed to get a few interviews with ‘cool’ Mumbai celebs for the DNA Bangalore launch in December. I did eventually speak to almost everyone on my ever-increasing celeb list and most of them were just the normal boring – “I’m doing this film with that director opposite this guy/girl and it promises to be a very new film, very new storyline, never before attempted screenplay…” and all the rest of that hyperbole that we’re all so used to.
But then my eyes fell on this one particular number, a number of someone I was so into and I decided it was time to call. I called and he picked up. The initial formalities over, I got down to business, interviewing him. What I wasn’t expecting was how he reacted. Over the next two hours we chatted and I mean literally chatted about everything I’d wanted to ever ask him. This was no interview, so much so, it seemed more like two over-enthu film buffs having an extremely animated conversation. He was so open about everything, his choice of roles, how playing a gay man felt, the kind of man he’d be attracted to if he was gay and the rest of it…

I will transcribe the interview soon, or at least parts of it that I took down in random notes and scribbles. The interview never got published, because I walked out of DNA in exactly 48 hours post the cool interview, swearing to quit the tainted walls of Journalism forever… but Samir Soni has remained one of the sweetest people I ever interviewed. He even called me later that night to chat and that was just so cool. We spoke on the whole for a good whole 4 hours that day and thus I think I have a right to have a crush on him… A big one at that…

This is one of the amazing portfolio pics he sent me for the article…

Isn’t he just so damn adorable?
Where are men like this, these days?
Has god stopped making them anymore?

Ende Juligai…

2009-02-15T12:06:00.000-08:00

“Udaiyoeduh Pirrakkuhvillai
Unarrvoeduh Pirandhuhvittoem…”

உடையோடு பிறக்கவில்லை உணர்வோடு பிறந்தவிட்டோம்

It’s 12:07 am and it’s already another Monday. The world is all prepared to face another busy week while I sit in this corner that I’ve learnt to so comfortably occupy. Something’s missing, my mind tells me as I listen to Pehli Nazar playing softly from the cool ‘creative’ speakers beside me… Softly kneading this already flattened and over-used heart.
Thanks to ashkaya.moksh this song is now a part of me… I remember hitting it off with Eastea Nikimoel thanks to this song. We both loved it and eventually learnt to love each other. Aishoos two keeps, we were – always kind of wary of the other… Wondering which of us meant more.

The story of me and Aishu goes back surprisingly to only three short years, when fate and the sheer joblessness of me, led to the discovery of ‘the other side’ – that part of the publishing industry that I wouldn’t wish in the career of anyone I like.
The boringness and unchangeable status quo of Christ College was getting to me during my second year at college and so the first internship option that came my way seemed to be the perfect godsend. Naresh Rao walked in and tells us about this new relationship magazine that’s starting off in Bangalore, something that Monsieur Edison was very excited about. Now, Monsieur Ed has always had a way of getting CC to react, and this was one of those treacherous times. Two days later, a pleasant and relatively hot looking guy walks into class. Vinod Srinivasan is the name, we are told, and I am already salivating thanks to my incontrollable ‘thing’ for Tamils and the educated kind at that! I don’t remember anything he said, but decided to apply for the internship anyway. Less than a week later we were at his office, somewhere in the middle of nowhere (read HSR layout) and I was surprised to find an old senior from school in the same office. We meet Aishwarya Kannan, sub-editor for the first time and her colleague Sai Vidhya Kannan – they weren’t related and that was the biggest surprise to begin with. So what was this superbly covert secret publication that we were going to be a part of called… Any guesses? It was called Confetti – so pretty no? And believe me the moment I heard the name, my gay sensibilities were touched. I was all ready to be initiated and ready to roll in the mud. But it wasn’t that easy, not at all! Several meetings later, I must add, in locations that one wouldn’t even expect, comme ca Barista Koramangala 5th Block and the like, we finally managed to get some work done. Imagine a dark glassed dominatrix looking Aishoo with her band of amateur in-college writers at her disposal. Oh! Believe me she knew what she was doing. She killed our stories and kept making most of us feel like shit! I don’t know how and when, but somewhere down the line, I was asked to write a piece on ‘Relationships that never take off’ and I wrote ‘It ended before it even began’ – a piece that’s featured on this blog . That’s when things changed. She (Aishoo) was impressed, of course not before she insisted I make it almost twice its size! Several attempts later, a very vulnerable Romal Singh presented his final piece and it was praised. Amen! The next piece I was assigned to write was a piece on gay sex and another one on fetishes. The fetishes story was published in the next months issue and I was quite tickled. But this is not about me, this is about Aishoo. So here’s back to her…

I broke all ice with her when one day, I had to show her the gay scene in the city and offered a glimpse into it through g4m. The poor brahminical girl was obviously quite shaken and I guess she even found it quite revolting. But that led us to start talking and I soon realised we shared so much in common. She was so like me, like my female counter-part. She was funny, serious, crack, mad, wise, humble, proud, listening, caring, self-conscious and sweet, all at the same time.
Jump cut to a month later, when she was finding it very difficult to continue at Confetti and she called me one day while I was shopping in FabIndia and says she needs to talk. Soon she’s there, looking as resplendent as ever and then breaks the news. She was leaving due to differences with the management. I thought that would be the end of everything, we still weren’t the best of friends. But fate decided to prove me wrong. We kept in touch and grew fonder of each other. A month or so later she moved on to Pratika – a PR agency that was just taking its baby steps in the city and God alone knows how she remembered some vague conversation where I had said I’d wanted to work part-time somewhere. In no time, I was working as her assistant and having a blast. We had our lows, our bouts of depression, but we helped each other through them. She now knows I’m depressed even before I do and vice versa, not to mention our other similarities that includes a very strong gaydar. She was indeed one of the best people to work with and just like that we became the best friends ever. Pratika helped us discover each other more fully as people and I’m happy it happened. Her life has moved on since and so has mine, but today when I sat down to write this blog post, that was initially dedicated to her, but soon evolved into an account and a narrative as close to my heart as well, my heart! I realised that Aishoo is the ONLY girl who’s ever KNOWN me. She knows me better than I do myself. She’s everything rolled into one – my personal sister, matron, surrogate mother, counsellor, best friend, possible lover (if I ever turn straight), fashion consultant, girlfriend, boyfriend, confidante and well-wisher. She’s also been my boss and is the only one who can boss me till date!

So here’s to you my louver, my flouer. Three years of the best relationship I could have asked for. You’ve been there for me at every stage, every second, every moment and through every joyous discovery. We’ve woofed, meowed and meoufed guys together, slept in the same bed, spent all night talking about, practically nothing and just been the best of friends with each other.

I am who I am today, very much because of you. I may have shown you the joys of everything Tamil, but you’ve shown me the joys of life – the fact that friends can be so so much more. I wish I could be there for you in every possible way and I know we’ll make the perfect couple, but as the song from Nammavar reminds me – “We weren’t born just with our bodies, we were born through feelings” and that rebirth of feelings is all thanks to you. I couldn’t ask anyone for more.

As I feel I’ve finally done justice to this blogpost, I pay attention to my ‘creative’ speakers blast Mundhinam Paarthaen from Vaaranam Aayiram into my ears and all I can think of is the apt lyric that says…

Iththanai Naalaaghuh,
Unnai Naan Paaraamal,
Yaenguh Dhaan Poenaenoeh,
Naatkallum Veen-Aaanadhaey…

You’re my desi girl Aishoo :)
Dekh Lakh Lakh Aisey-Vaisey girl…
Ain’t nobody like my Desi girl!
Who’s the hottest girl in the world?
My Desi girl! My Desi Girl! :)

I now feel well-spent!

At the Peripheral...

An open letter to someone I wished I had never loved!

Fin?

LOVE is ALL.

PonnKaalam, PonnTamizh and my PonnDaatar :)

Raat Ka Nasha :P

Is it me, or is it you?

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words

North of the Vindhyas — No chance!

The South Indian Gay Me :)

Safe and warm, finally!

My Birthday Wish-List 2011 :)

आपको पाया, तो क्यूं? ♥

Questions I’d like to ask today.

YOU deserve so much more.

I am someone’s reality. *sigh* :)

Wonderfully beautiful YOU.

Circles.

let go.

‘It just happened to me’

‘I was born to dance’

guava — the common man.

Goodhals in the head! :(

The Simple Superstar

A ‘week’ness of yes and weakness of no.

Me, you and the prospective third

Will we ever stop loving?

You were.

Cringe = Pain = Change (?)

page turning time?

Happy Birthday Chandrudu :)

I AM ‘QUEER’. GET USED TO ME.

WHATTE JOY INDEED!

Bharatanatyam, who's is it?

rainbow butterfly.

drooged!

him.

Haraaorey Loka Ruchi & Finding My Call :)

Fate and FB = Pure Evil

Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

When Facebook makes you a FAN! :P

10 Trivia about L Romal M Singh :)

Rangafestivealofpeoplewholovetheatre!(?)

What is a saree, if it's not a Kanjeevaram :P

Costas@4

Am I a bad person?

i hate you koshy's :P

Of full circles that I wished would never complete...

Drabble, dribble and a dreaming reprieve

It’s about peace, joy and unending love

Bite into this!

Washing this anger away

Simply Fabulous, I say!

Mind it, I say!

Prevention is better than cure?

Maathey Malayadhwaja Paandya Sanjaathey...

Betrayed by a Democracy

My Vision for India

Being Gay in Christ.

Madras suththi paakuh ponaen!

கன்றாவி பயலே!

Aditi makes my day!

This is Fashion!

அஹம் பிரம்ஹஸ்மி!

Ellam Pugazhum Iraivanukkuh!

Where is the Party? Eh, Tamizhnaat-Luh!

Samir Soni(ed) alright!

Ende Juligai…

I am someone’s reality. sigh :)