Thursday, August 26, 2010

cultural voidness

The ‘greeny’ ruddy video faded out to black in the 19 inch screen of the monitor. I tried my level best to not open my mouth to divulge the bafflement inside my mind. The bafflement is not at the quality of the images captured in the tranquility of DSR 400, but on the fact that despite my masters degree in English language and literature its very difficult for me to recapture the true essence of Onam in that language. I might say it’s been celebrated in memory of our great mythical emperor Mahabali, and then I might go straight into Barthes and his thoughts on myth (sorry I don’t even remember that). Oh! Heavens where am I at the end of this five years of familiarizing myself with this Anglo- Saxon tongue. These people have protruded their tongue so wide that it has become difficult for all of us both Mangaloids and Negroids to push a day without cleaning that tongue.

Indeed what is Onam, at least what is Onam for me? Its not a festival that comes regularly on a specific date or a specific month, for sometimes it comes early in august or at other times it comes lazily at September, and since I’m not an expert in astrology and that sort of stuffs I cant predict exactly in which month it comes in a year unless I get a quick glance at the calendar. When I was a student (sad that I’m no more one) Onam was a ten day vacation that is celebrated with lots of TV programs and a grant feast with plenty of dishes. Surely Mahabali is one of the most widely accepted cultural icons that bind the varied and disparate malayale psyches collectively. Indeed his is an image that is buried deep in the collective unconscious of all “Malayalee” folks. In spite of knowing these facts I still feel an incompleteness in my knowledge about my culture, my ethnicity and my folklore. But whom should I blame for this voidness, what all things constitute this void? Is it that difficult to answer these questions?

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Hey guys, what's happening? Project/Term paper fever or what? Are you all bidding goodbye to Institute blogging?

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Hello Everyone,

   My sister is getting married on 23rd may 2010, Sunday with Reghunath. The venue is Sree Padmam Auditorium, Airport Road, West Fort, Thiruvanathapuram. I invite your esteemed presence to bless her on this auspicious occassion. Please see the invitation letter below:
           
            

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Do not miss TD Dasan Std VI B. Pass the message. Do this to keep the taste buds alive.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

shashi tharoor: more sinned against than sinned??

Sorry 4 that cliche, bt we 2day c a man's fall being celebrated by our media. This was someone who represented India in the race for UN sec gen post and we see him being victimised for petty political gains and bussiness bigoteries of some.

Tharoor is not only a man with a distinguished diplomatic career but also a distinguished literary person with excellent rhetoric who easily handles n no of languages. He took the hard route of lok sabha election, where many wud have preffered an easy nomination 2 rajya sabha.

the man, i have my gut sayin more emphatically than ever, was victimzd and needs our backing. 2day we understand him nt as an hero or a savior bt as some1 like us let down by our system. i sincerely feel we need to back him in this hour of distress.

what do u guys think.........

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A love Story

She was an ordinary girl. Everything she knew of Love is what she read , saw and heard in books, cinema and music. It happened all of a sudden, she fell in love. But then whats love? Is that sharing everything with a person, normally of another sex?

But it so came up that her love was not of another sex, but a girl.She was confused, afraid and perplexed. Her films dint gave her answers to her questions. They all pointed her to be guilty and abnormal. She was frightened to talk about the passionate moments shared with her beloved.


She felt at fault. Love is not a soothing touch for her, but life taking experience. She could not love anymore. The books, the films and the music she read never helped her. The normalcy went to the most abnormal and there ended her life and there ended her love.


Friday, April 2, 2010

English, August

Those were the days when the British library was still open in Trivandrum. One of the main reasons why I loved the library was that it acquainted me with the latest publications in the field of Indian writing in English. I used to read a lot of Indian writers at that time- Kiran Nagarkar, Anita Desai, Kiran Desai, Timeri N. Murrari, Vikram Seth and so on. When I started doing my PG course I realised that there were so many classics I had not read, so the first two semesters were spent in devouring down the classics of British and American literature. Then with the paper 'Indian writing in English' in the third semester, I was back in the world of the Indian writers. But these time around it was a rendezvous with the pioneers namely R K Narayan, Mulk Raj Anand, Shashi Deshpande. The only 'new' text was Kiran Desai's Inheritance of Loss. So after the exam, I was adamant on finding a text which would be a refreshing change from these heavily loaded texts. English, August was my choice and it did fit the bill.
That was a long digression from the main purpose of the post namely a review of Upamanyu Chatterjee's English, August. But the fact is without this seemingly long digression it is nearly impossible for me to detail the effect that the book had on me. Indian novels in English which I had read and had been reading lately either talk about rural India or the expatriate Indian. English, August chronicles one year in the life of a young civil servant Agastya Sen in Madna, one of the provincial towns in the rural hinterlands of India. In a way, this novel is also about rural life; rural life as seen through the eyes of a city boy. Hence it is a refreshing change from those R K Narayan kind of novels (no offence meant). In the hands of Upamanyu Chatterjee, the cliche theme of the urban encounter with the rural resulting in a culture shock becomes something more. Drawing from his experience as a civil servant, Chatterjee very realistically depicts the paradoxes and problems involved in grassroots administration.
The novel, while on the one hand, looks at the larger social and administration problems in the villages of India, on the other hand, it is also a journey of self- discovery for the protagonist Agastya Sen. As the review in the Observer rightly says, his imagination is dominated by women, literature and soft drugs. But what endeared me to the protagonist was his sense of dislocation (similar to something I had endured during my graduate days at Womens) and the way in which, in due course of time, he fits in the scheme of things, though unwillingly. Just like I used to take refuge in books during those days of dislocation, Agastya finds solace in Marcus Aurelius' Meditations and an English translation of Gita.
Another major concern of the author is reflected in the title. Agastya is called English in his school days for his admiration of the Anglo Indian kids and his aspiration to act and speak like them. He is called Ogu by his Bengali relatives, and August by his friends, who belong to the same MTV generation as him. The novel brilliantly captures the 'trauma' of being caught between two cultures. At times, one even feels that Upamanyu Chatterjee considers this incongruent mix of cultures as the reason for the 'out of placeness' of the protagonist. There are other instances in the novel which reinforces my certainty about this. The first generation (in the novel)- Agastya's father, his kaku- all of them are sure about what they are and where they are. Even his kaku who is a non conformist does not experience the 'lost' feeling that Agastya does. The linguistics of the text brilliantly mirrors the psyche of the 'Hinglish' generation. The wry humour goes well with the laid- back nature of the protagonist.
On the whole, the novel has rib tickling which does not come across as too forced. The novel is fascinating and brilliant for the fact that the seriousness of the issues dealt with in the novel does not get diluted in the hyperbolic comedy and the crazy of clamour of voices.
P.S. I am eagerly waiting to get a copy of the Dev Benegal film based on the novel, starring Rahul Bose.
P. P. S Is it just me or did any one who had read the novel feel a vague similarity with Jack Kerouac's On the Road.?

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

ART FILM (2010 APRIL 28, 4:00 PM)

I could see her moving away
With her characteristic non chalance
Some where in that I could sense a smirk
Yet again I strained for connotations

FLASH BACK

I could see her eyes pinning me
I could feel the tension mounting
And I made up my mind
Then I saw her telling me I was a coward

CONTINUES...

Five years passed without a piece of bread and omlete
I still haven't braved her but she kisses me regularly
And reminds me I am a coward
Suddenly I became brave and burned with rave

ANGRY YOUNG MAN

I took the phone and smashed it hard
And went to market and asked for the same
Now with a refreshed courage I cleaned the house
Swept the relics and hid it fine

CLIMAX

Faced her in the nose and spoke in breaths
She couldn't flinch a brow
As I thundered my way through and ended in a high
She removed her earphone and asked me "what"

POST SCRIPT (2010 MARCH 28, 3: 59 PM)

My hairs are now white and the American President is black
Doctors discovered lip cancer and she didn't kiss me now
She now spoke in breaths and curled in my nose
And when one day she got tired of her breaths, I became a philosopher


Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Piss of Sicdy

As soon as I step out of the wilderness of our institute I always make it a point (eventhough I rarely triumph in that venture) to shirk off that scholarly pretensions or "intellectuall aura" and walk out with an untheoretical and uncritical temperament. Because its a fact that only an establishment like Institute can occupy such pretensions and facades . But for some months I had this great opportunity to stick to this facade even in my journey back to home . Thanks to my eggheaded junior Aravind for his erudite company. From Arts to science , From sexuality to absurdity we talk about anything and everything under the sun . Since he has got a better memmory and knowledge and above all an untiring tongue I prefer to remain taciturn most of the time. Nevertheless we do talk very candidly and that too at the top of our voice, about our angsts, desires , philosophy, experience, theories and attitudes without any embarrassment even inside the busy bus. Often we see people frowning at us unable to decipher our Greek and Latin ( for the bus would be crowded with middle aged working men and women who would be striving hard to meet the both ends ) and what is absurd for me is the very breath and crux of their existence . Eventhough little do we go easy on each other nothing embarrass us or infuriates us much . But one fine day all of a sudden he asked me a question that quickly got under my skin. He asked "cheta what is your caste?". Eventhough he attached this prelim please- dont- mind- my- question, I could feel the blood rushing to my ears. I could sense those countless ears in the bus tuning their frequency to catch my answer . I toned down my voice, to escape those countless ears waiting eagerly to catch that centuries old subservient signifier that denotes the community to which I belong. Nevertheless I was not quite sure whether I could really escape those greedy ears and that made me remain conscience stricken till the end of the journey .
Engrossed by this irksome incident I brood upon a dog that would accompany me wherever I go. Lets call this dog a subaltern- inferiority- complex- dog or abbreviate it and call sic-dog, or to be more sweet call it sicdy-yes Sicdy. Sicdy's story is pretty long. Wherever I go Sicdy would walk side by side with me and the moment I intend to do something or to start a new venture he would pull ahead of me and after few steps would lift one of his hind legs to have a jimmy. This would certainly force me to turn my head for none would stand and admire the marvel of a dog pissing. So naturally I would restrain myself from that new venture to avoid Sicdy's piss. But sometimes whatever effort I take Sicdy would certainly come and shower me with his hot and burning pee. I still remember that day when one of my friends openly expressed his fury on the reservation given for the "scheduled" entities , knowing very well that I too belong to the same group. He said "if we have to run a hundred meter sprint they can just get away with it by running sixty". Everyone laughed including me, but slowly I could feel the hot piss of Sicdy dribbling down my face damping my white uniform shirt. Sicdy didn't even bothered to turn back and look at me. But by that time I knew Sicdy very well so didn't make any complaints.
It was my parents especially father who gifted me my Sicdy when I was a child[ I can't exactly say of what age -rather a child who imbibed enough social norms and rules to play in the open grounds of civilisation ). But during my early childhood the playgrounds where not so vicious and Sicdy didn't get a chance to escort me for he [should I use she in order to be neutral ] couldn't tolerate innocence , he would rather sit at the boundary line watching the play. But as i grew up Sicdy got more and more chance to follow me and irritate me. He would come with the attendant of our school along with the memorandum informing that our grants are ready. Then the teacher would make us stand giving Sicdy a great chance to play his pranks. I didn't know if Sicdy was as vicious with others as he was with me. But one thing I did know that he was becoming more fiendish. He would piss on me when they publish the merit list with my name in separate column. He would again come to vex me when I stand totally helpless with my 'unscheduled' friends who were denied admission despite their high marks. He would piss on me with their silence, he would piss on me with their grudging smile. And his urine has an unusual acid in it that would bring invisible tears in my eyes which no hankies could wipe.
Its very difficult to steer clear of Sicdy ,for he has become an essential element of my existence. I don't know which is that hand that feeds Sicdy his pedigree, is it the plebians, or our society , my parents, or any collective unconsciousness, or my own consciousness ? Whichever hand it is Sicdy always gets enough and more though he looks like a bag of bones and it is I think pointless to ask such vexing questions. But what else can you do in a society where you need to have 'Brahmins' curry powder to get the 'traditional' taste of 'Sambhar'. Nothing yes simply nothing.
But now that I'm writing this article with a confessional tone I could see my Sicdy gaping with bafflement. He is now on top of my table goggling at my words with an expression that would conceal all his vicious plans for new pranks.

Pramod.L.S

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

certain yet uncertain...!!



The train has just started moving. I procured my favorite seat with a cup of coffee. The aroma of coffee took me back to warmth of memories…mamma’s coffee…her warm hugs…my first love…waves…sea…rain…
The hot wind matters no more neither do the scorching sun. I love the world of Jinn’s and Gandharvan. Dreams…Dreams…Dreams…Dreams devoured my coffee or the coffee devoured my dreams. Still bitterness and sweetness remains, clinging to the brim…afraid to shatter…yet unable to unite. The empty cup with coffee stains cling on…unable to go off…unable to let it go…it was easy bUt “NO”. The train is gathering momentum. Wind unleashed its power and Nature overpowers…I lost my grip…the cup is gone!!! Gone forever… gone with the wind… into wilderness. The transposed feeling of emptiness hammers in my head…the feeling of getting lost…losing something, anything, everything…the threat of uncertainty?? bUt am not unhappy…am waiting …awaiting for another cup of coffee…yet another…still another…to enjoy…to empty and to alienate.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

A Drought Inside

On every treetop that blocks the wind,
There is an unheard cry of birth...
Cry of a bud that wanted to bloom into a flower...
A leaf smiling in the sunshine...
With its least moisterous eyes...
And a creeper peeping out to the sky...
Thirsting for a rain...
Can you hear the whispers of our land now?
The soil is translating the monologues of the souls buried inside...
A drought is about to break its shell and scatter around
Its dry chirping all over the sleeping riverside...
We are near the gateway to a graveyard...
Where rainless clouds arch a prison of darkness...
The mountains lay as silent as saints in communication with God...
Even nothingness is on its deathbed to eternity...
Its drought out here...


SOYA V. N.


Friday, March 12, 2010

Somebody's song


The blood that flows through me carries
Not just the RBCs ,the WBCs and the platelets
That communicate the happy message that
This person is ‘alive’
(Indeed it’s fascinating to be alive)

You know it carries with it my ‘legacy’,they say

I had ancestors who thought from their brains

I had ancestors who thought from their hearts as well

No wonder, I could easily riddle with myself !

Drawing up plans for the future is quite simple a task for me
Because they say,I had a great grandpa
Who charted out
An entire life of his own

Throwing them aside is much more simple a task,I think
Because my great grandma ,the eternal optimist believed in miracles.

In my smiles,they shine
In my tears,they drench

Intelligence(or the lack of it)can come from either side
Quite possible..

They are all dead and gone,you know
The rugged roots that grew deep into the earth
To bring me,the green leaf that sways in the wind,nourishment.

I wonder whether anything is left for me to fill in

Am I to be blamed for my mistakes?
Am I to be congratulated for my merits ?

Or,do I exist at all..as myself ?

Posted by Neetha at 6:07 PM

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Take a break

Hey guys, get in. It has been a very lean period with your exams. In the midst of all that mugging up, take a break!!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Am I addicted to messaging??

Hmmm.. by reading this heading my friends will definitely say that ‘yes, she is’..Because I can’t think of a day without sending at least one message to my friends..I found it a very good way to keep in touch with my friends. I think that I started this as a routine after jumping into the Student Suvidha plan which offers 2000 free messages a month. Then tell me friends how could I not utilize this facility?
I think the main agenda behind sending messages are just TO KEEP IN TOUCH. And here is one of the message which support my view....thanks to the person who created this one...’Sometimes we think why friends keep forwarding messages to each other without speaking words. The reason is that we have nothing to say, but still want to keep in touch’ :-) When I got this message, it really made me happy and this is one of my favourite message.
I am sure that there will be friends of mine who are busy with studies gets irritated by my messages..And when their mobile beeps with the message tone definitely they would say ‘oh God that might be Litty with her usual business ’... Friends, don’t think that this is an attempt from my part to say that I am going to stop sending messages and won’t be disturbing you people again...but to warn you that I will continue this process as long as BSNL offer this free messaging facility to Student Suvidha customers...:-)
I feel so happy when my other friends who are also ‘addicts’ like me sends me messages and If one day anyone of them misses me, that made me sad....So keep sending messages.....
But now as the exams are approaching, I will try my level best to be on leave for some days..Just to provide an atmosphere for the studious gals in my class which makes me UNHAPPY...All the best my friends!!!!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Roads



Frost talks about the Road Not Taken. I am here to talk about the road I took. If you ask me whether I reached somewhere travelling on this particular road, well, not yet. The journey through a specific road, no matter what it is , is always a suspense. You never know what is in reserve for you at the end.
The journey may be either very smooth or with all kinds of hurdles. People say, if the journey is difficult the climax would be favourable. Not necessarily. People strive to travel in a particular road an yet they fail to get what they expect.
Now , you may think that I lost what I expected by travelling on this road. well. I dont really reached the destination to give such an answer. But its true that I strive to travel on this road , and I am trying hard to get the best out of it. After all, this is one road which I never expected to take, but eventually I took. Now, its inevitable for me to get the best out of it.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

'KHAN’ RULES OUT

Once again democracy rules the roost. After much hue and cry the ‘cliff hanger’ over the release of ‘My Name Is Khan’ ended on an exultant note. The whole situation exemplifies the dictum:” personal is political. ”The pot-boiler sprung out from the actor and co-owner of Kolkata Knight Riders, Sharukh Khan’s reluctance to apologize for saying Pakistani Cricketers should have been picked for the Indian Premier League. Even though the Shiv Sena activists under the leadership of Bal Thackeray triumphed in stimulating a tremor down the spines of Mumbaikars, the public walked out valiantly in order to watch their favourite star’s block-buster. Theatre owners of Inox, Fun cinema and other multiplexes in Mumbai were dwindling in their decision whether to screen the film or not. Finally the whole array of events led to a climax with a cathartic effect. The tickets were auctioned on eBay for *1000[rs.6000] and sold out in five seconds at the Berlin International Film Festival.

Mr. Khan’s obduracy in clinging on to his stand amidst the controversy extracted much support from the film industry too. Earlier Karan Johar, the director of the film was also been criticized and made to apologize to Raj Thackeray[MNS]for using ‘Bombay’ instead of ‘Mumbai’ in one of his films. Thackeray even went to the extend of calling Sharukh Khan “a traitor”. The brothers’[MNS & Shiv Sena] effort to build up a political niche by blind folding the people through ‘fake tradition’ and ‘jingoism’ by problematising narrow issues finally defunct in a quagmire; in effect the backlash helped only to blacken the image of respective parties. The protest against this kind of parochial politics is the triumph of Republic and Democracy which cuts through the subterfuge to attain the desired end.

The political and public interference; say for instance the enthusiasm shown by the Maharashtra Home Minister R.R. Patil and other ministers to promote the screening of the film has been quite appreciative. It is not a question of screening the film which matters but the profound question of ‘rights’: the right to freedom; freedom of opinions and freedom to do anything that law abides. To curtail that right is to violate the Law and Constitution. Politics is not a child’s play and no party has the right to deny public freedom and opinion in a democratic set up like India through threats and violence.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Brando the Hunk and other musings:): Review of A Streetcar Named Desire


Directed by Ella Kazan, the movie is an adaptation of Tennessee Williams' play by the same name. Released in 1951 the movie stars Vivien Leigh, Marlon Brando and Kim Hunter. It is rated at 8.1 on a scale of ten at the IMDB (Internet Movie Data Base). We had a screening of the movie at the Institute yesterday (for those who have the problem of spacio temporal disorientation, the date was 11 feb 2010). I had been thinking about bunking the screening due to some technical reasons (read Term Paper submission) but because Pramod had 'dumped' the CD on me I was obliged to be there and to say the least it was worth it! Can anyone look handsome, adorable, violently angry and drunk all at the same time? Marlon Brando can! The movie was one of the few instances in Hollywood industry were the Broadway cast was repeated with few changes in the movie remake, though Jessica Tandy was replaced by Vivien Leigh. Now I was quite surprised to come back home and find out that Leigh bagged the Best Actress Oscar for the movie while poor Brando did not get any:(. Personally speaking, Leigh looked like she was Sheela's elder sister, Brando was much more natural. In fact he is considered one of the pioneers of method acting. By now any one of you who have bothered to read the post must be very clear about where my allegiances lie, right? Before I turn this into a paean of praise devoted to Marlon Brando, let me move on to the subtler details.
Desire, as an underlying motif, is present throughout the movie in the clanging sounds by the streetcar in the background. But basically I think the movie, or for that matter the play also, is about the dichotomy of illusion and reality. Stanley Kowalski, an ex- serviceman, stands for the world of reality. He despises any show of grandeur and sees through Blanche's pretensions right in the beginning. Used to all those 'virtuous' heroes in the Indian movies i should admit that I was a bit taken aback by the final allusion to rape. Stanley and Blanche are on a collision course from the first time they meet. Stan loathes Blanche all the more because she makes her sister Stella ashamed of him, of his primal behaviour. He spoils Blanche's and Mitch's wedding plans citing her flirtatious and shady past as a reason. He claims that he does not want one of his friends to spoil his life by entering into wedlock with his sister- in- law. But one can always doubt his intentions, the fact remains that the movie is titled "A Streetcar named Desire".
What i would consider as one of the highlights of the movie, besides the script, would be the 'abuse' scenes. I am not sure if it is the director's skill or the actors', but it has to be mentioned that the scenes look so so real. Especially the one's between Stan and Stella. Now I also know from where Mani Ratnam got his idea of love- hate relationship between Inba and Shashi (Madhavan and Meera Jasmine) in Ayudha Ezhuthu. The scenes in this Tamil movie are 'copy- paste' from Streetcar.
As in most Hollywood productions, this one also has a streak of patriotism in it. Stan is often reffered to as the Polack by Blanche, in one of their confrontation scenes Stan screams at Blanche that he is a proud American! and not a Polack!!!
Now I have left many things unsaid in this review here in the hope that others will pitch in with their share of criticism. Awaiting your responses...

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Break the silence

What's happening guys? Why this hiatus?

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

A Love Story

she clatters her way through my upper shelf

dissembling books from their literal dispositions

forcing me as a metaphor of pity's metonymy

purging my symmetry and assembling anomalies.

i wake up to find my wretched dream

dreamed into my now slumber life

left to deify her delightful ego

from the letters of my once adored language.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Antichrist- short short review

The difficulties that I had to surmount to watch this movie will run into pages but that not being the primary concern here let me go to the effect that the movie had on me. It was two hours of shock, horror and repulsion. After this movie I don't think I am ever going to be shocked at any of those accounts or sights of sexual violence on man or woman. I don't even understand how the actors were able to carry it out. Friends who were sitting on either side swore that they are never going to bring me for the next version of IFFK. After the movie I was really interested to know what exactly did the director Lars von Trier want to signify with all that sexual violence on screen...he must have meant something. The reviews talked something about the biblical allusions and all...but here is my take on it. The present world is so full of violence and the movie employs a kind of alienation effect wherein the audience is jolted with such scenes that he sits up and realizes what he takes for granted is in fact a grave offense that may destroy mankind. It is intended to give a shock to the conscience of a society which teaches its children to be non- responsive and close their eyes to such crimes (and wait till it happens to you to take some action). I wonder if the eve- teasers and the rapists get the point...#!*%
PS: For those of you who are wondering why this post has no head and not tail, this is just a section from another post in another blog:-)