The polar bear song

I want to go there
To the snow and the ice
I want to be a polar bear
Its no great sacrifice

Inspired by these pictures

Quick Gun but Poor Shot

Sigh. I had such hopes for this one. The movie version of Quick Gun Murugan. Five minutes into the movie and it all became clear: what was a funny and rather wacky two-minute Channel V sketch character had been put on some medieval rack and stretched to nearly two hours, with the result that poor Quick Gun was a thin as paper.
To give him credit Rajendra Prasad is quite good, but everyone else hams it up in a way thats painfully unfunny. Nassar stomps around chewing the scenery and playing a caricature villain. My classmate Anu Menon does what she can, but being trapped inside a locket does pose some limitations. Rambha plays the usual bad-girl-with-heart-of-gold-redeemed-by-love. Prabhu Deva's brother is another one for shouting at the top of his voice and generally overdoing everything.
I think the main problem was the plot, which starts off sounding very promising: cow protecting cowboy tries to save vegetarian tamil villages from being forced into becoming meat-eaters; but then there's death and rebirth and all manner of rambling and the plot loses any vestige of sense it ever possessed: cowboy takes revenge on evil meat-only dish purveyor who wants total world domination through dosas (arent dosas veggie food? its quite confusing). So the first half is set mostly in the south, with english subtitles for the tamil dialogue and the second, fully in bombay, with no english subtitles for the hindi dialogue. How's that for North-South prejudice?
The period and genre details were pretty good. Some of the dialogue was rather funny. And Rajendra Prasad says 'My name is Murugan. Quick Gun Murugan. Mind it' with surpiring verve and style. But I'm really struggling to find something positive to say about this movie. I suppose the problem is that it was meant to be a spoof of the 'curry westerns' of the 70s but one of the prerequisites of spoofs is that they be funny. And this movie was only fitfully so. Thats why it was about as appetising as warmed up leftovers. Or in this case, yesterday's dosa and sambhar. Now that is surely something I do mind!

Weekend thoughts

On browsing through back issues of Architectural Digest

The only way I am ever going to live in these kind of houses is if I get a job there as a maid! Still, its nice to know that its possible to ive in an all-white house or to build a home perched above a waterfall. Or that there are 30 different shades of beige. Gives one hope somehow.

On meeting a whole bunch of my friends, all from previous IT jobs, but with whom I am very close

Why are so many of my friends Brahmins? They form less than 5% of the population but sometimes it feels like I know the whole 5%. My Brahmin side of the family hasnt prepared me well in handling overt displays of Brahmin-ness either. They either talk in English or a sort of urban Tamil. And they arent seriously into major rituals etc. With the end result that when I do get together with tradional Brahmins, I feel completely smothered!

On meeting two of my oldest friends (they arent old in themselves - they are the same age as me - just that I've known them since the third standard)

I love that they are still honest and honourable and decent and cheerful and utterly full of life. And that we all still understand each other. Maybe which school you go to really or limb.

On meeting two of my oldest friends

I cant believe it! Finally someone who spends more than me!Yay! I'm not Satan's little helper after all!

On watching the movie Milk, which is about the gay rights activist Harvey Milk

At first it's weird watching men kiss but over time (in this case two hours) it doesnt look so strange after all. Wonder what Madras would be like if we had men kissing on the streets! Even more radical: straight people necking in the streets!

On attending a friend's engagement

I cannot believe that it takes two hours to get two people engaged! Or how absolutely tacky and tedious the whole procedure is. As long as I move around in a world of my making everything is alright. Once I come up against the real world, real India, its like I've suddenly been pitchforked into some new alien country, where everyone looks like me but they all think and speak and behave in a completely baffling way. Total disconnect.Why didnt I get out earlier? Do I even have a chance now?

On wondering if I was going to get caught by the police for buying wine and vodka in Pondicherry

How does this work? Even when I come from abroad I can bring in two litres of alcohol so why should I be scared to buy something in my own country?

On getting back home, hot, tired, with a crick in my neck, to see my dog jump up to greet me

There really trully is no place like home.

N and M

A few days back I wrote to a friend of mine with whom I used the share the long bus rides to from the jungles of OMR, who has accompanied me to movies as varied as High School Musical 3 and Australia, who has enlightened me about what really goes on in Triplicane, and who is now happily married to a very sweet girl.

Here’s what I said:
N! Was thinking about you yesterday. You know except during the days of our Big Fights, there was never a time when you didnt make me feel very loved and safe. Thats a wonderful thing and I want to thank you for that. I know I dont have to thank you for such things but I am grateful and not taking anything for granted.

And this is what N said:
:) :)
thanks for that email - all I read was "wake up! there are friends, life outside of routine and work" you know what I mean....and for that - I dedicate the mustafa song to you! :)

Awww, I heart N

Matchmaker Matchmaker, make me a diabetologist

My brother in law, who is a diabetologist in the small town to beat all small towns, not only has a roaring practice, but also gets amazing freebies. Gone are the days when pens were the standard gifts from pharma companies. The budget has shot up by a factor of 10. Sometimes I can see why people go to extreme lengths to get their kids into medical college. Here’s a list of the incentives/tokens of appreciation, etc. that he’s received in the last two years:
An Eee PC
A plasma TV
Rice!
Countless chauffeur-driven cars to ferry him around when he travels to other cities
All-expenses-paid trips to Thailand, Egypt, Kodaikanal and Hyderabad.
And now a choice of holidays: Las Vegas or Paris or Capetown.
Sigh! I never knew my sister was such a smartie.

One office, two worlds

In my office, Upstairs and Downstairs function as two independent kingdoms. Or rather queendoms, since it is two women who rule the office furniture with an iron hand (velvet glove optional).

Downstairs, you have to laugh uproariously at the Queen’s jokes, or you’re in danger of being told that you’re getting too stressed and will be burned out soon.
Upstairs, you have to read the books the Queen recommends, or….there is no choice here; the Queen likes the book, therefore you have to like it too.

Downstairs, here be males!! Ye Gods, seven of them, when everyone is present and functioning.
Upstairs, here be the gents loo and an almost complete lack of testosterone.

Downstairs, every afternoon, all the ladies have to spring up and do exercise, in the manner of the drill we used to do on Sports Day at school (alas, dumbbells and hoops aren’t included; maybe the Queen doesn’t know about them?).
Upstairs, we walk. To the loo. Since we are constantly encouraged by the Queen to drink more water.

In the ladies loo Downstairs, cute notices with smiley faces ask you to turn off the lights and replace the mug on the tap, etc.
In the ladies loo Upstairs, you may find a stray pair of panties (I kid you not) and random invitations to readings of obscure books from the Madras Book Club.

Downstairs makes the big money and so they get invited to all the office parties and launches.
Upstairs doesn’t make that much dough, so we only get invited to about 1 in 10 of the parties; with the invitation being extended a couple of hours before the party.

Downstairs is a world rife with politics, back-biting, snide remarks and rank bitchiness.
Upstairs is… oh! Some things are the same!

Virtual lifeline

These are the people who get me through the working day, from afar. Who always make time for me and from whom I get nothing but love, love and more love:
Fatty
Man United Preux Chevalier
Dot com CEO
A big Cuba Gooding Junior-style I love you to all of you!