A Reverie Of Sorts

Spacing Out

2010-12-26T00:00:00.032+05:30

I'm in a free fall, down an endless pitch black void. There’s no screaming wind in my ears. Just a dull silence. A silence, that comes with despair. And loss. And a million heartbreaks.

Memories from a quiet evening, from a not too distant past float past me. Vivid memories of her warm smile. And her eyes. Most of all, her deep liquid brown eyes.

Everything dissolves and a warm, ethereal sensation envelops my body. And every fiber of my being is left yearning for a little more of her.

*****

My 'space outs', have been slowly increasing in frequency over the past few weeks. The spells are immediately followed by a familiar persistent ache – that of a wild heart trying to claw its way out.

'Love'. It’s a strange thing isn't it? It manifests itself in a million different ways.Yet, its first symptoms always originate in that involuntary piece of muscle in your chest,whose erratic behavior seems to know no bounds.

Thinking back, it was a rather serendipitous meeting. Random people. Random setting.

I drank in her warm demeanour, masked erudition and ineffable vulnerability, only to end up craving for more. A hurried tete-a-tete and few giggles later, I knew I was suffering from something more than just a crush. Phone numbers were exchanged and promises were made to call each other.The last thing I recollect, is the image of her straight figure standing silhouetted against the illumination of the mall.

When you are in the quest for virtues of the rarest kind and find them all in a single person, well within your grasp, you consider yourself fortunate, because you know, the chances of it happening again are next to nothing.But you see the universe, works in the most mysterious ways. When you covet one thing above everything else, the same mysterious forces that brought you something, silently conspires against you.

It’s been a long time since that evening. And a lot has transpired.

Promising though it might seem, I’m reluctant and scared as hell to take the next step. I just hate to think of all the carefully laid out plans that will go amiss. And the ripples it will cause in the future.

The Butterfly Effect...of it all.

" My Precious! "

2010-11-25T02:37:00.006+05:30

I hate losing my clothes to the vagaries of time.

The adamant rust stain on my favourite pair of jeans, the tiny yet conspicuous hole in my FCUK t-shirt and the vivid green mould on my precious mauve corduroys - I freakin hate’em all. And seeing them rot away bit by bit, always depresses me.

Just consider the amount of time, effort and money spent on picking up that perfect shade of stonewashed blue or digging up that garment giving you the snuggest fit you’ve only ever dreamt of .

They serve you faithfully through drunken brawls, pointless outdoor expeditions and other devious things the universe throws at you. And in the end, you lose them to some stupid nail sticking out of a bench or an old rusty clothesline.

I mean, I get the whole “Everything that has a beginning, has an end” thingy.

But life just doesn’t seem fair at times to my apparel.(Sniff)

P.S: Now that the cat is out of the bag, I fervently hope that you don’t consider me any less manly (whatever that might mean) or suspect my ‘straight’ ness.

And however it might sound, I really am not the materialistic type!

At least, I keep telling myself that.

Pondicherry

2010-10-30T11:27:00.003+05:30

[This post has been a long time coming.
I finally found time to sift through all the pictures from my short trip to Pondicherry.Published here are a select few. ]

For the uninitiated traveller, Pondicherry is a small coastal city lying around 135 km south of Chennai,India . Few of the noteworthy aspects of the city are it’s perfectly straight cobbled streets, buildings with French architectural influences , an amazing coastal cuisine and lovely promenades.

A fully stocked back bar

If you are one of those serial pub hoppers, Pondicherry is the place to be in. All the well known watering holes are within walking distance of each other.

Iron Lion Zion - at one of the private tables at Le Club

Calamari drowned in Lemon sauce

Without sea food , your Pondicherry experience is incomplete!The 'chow' expenses eats into a large share of your budget, but it’s totally worth it.

A deserted cobbled street, on a lazy afternoon at Pondicherry

Up a gnarled Banyan tree root at the Aurobindo ashram

Way through a dense mangrove forest at Pichavaram

Pichavaram is a two-hour drive from Pondicherry and is home to one of the largest mangrove forests in the world.If you are lucky, you'll get to see much more than just crabs scuttling around.

[While some of the pics were taken by me, the rest are courtesy of Ajay and Pushkar.]

A Wannabe Gourmand’s Tale

2010-09-21T20:12:00.010+05:30

It is late in the night. The dusty clock face shows a little past ten o’clock.

As I lay around procrastinating like always, I’m suddenly beset by an irresistible craving for eggs. It didn’t really matter whether the eggs were scrambled, poached or boiled. But I make one of those stupid spur-of-the-moment decisions.

I decided to cook something!

When it comes to culinary skills, my repertoire is almost non-existent. In fact I can easily do a finger count. But when I get my brain twisted around an idea, it’s almost impossible to uproot it.

Anyway,I risk a peep into the refrigerator. From the looks of it, it has already been raided by a gang of savage animals - the kind that walks around on two legs. I find no Onions. No Chillies. And absolutely no Eggs! Nothing except for a few shrivelled potatoes and twisted sticks that resembled sprigs of curry leaf. And to my surprise, a virgin bottle of whiskey.

I rush outside only to find it's raining cats and dogs. I curse the rain gods and hunt around for my umbrella. After a full five minutes and a dozen curse words later, I finally find it camouflaged in a pile of clothes.

I take a swig from the whiskey bottle and hit the street with the remnants of what used to be an umbrella.

I side-step the two horny toads engrossed in making out. Give the birdie to the neighbour behind his back. Leap across the overflowing manhole. And come to a halt at the second bend in the road; where a miniature English Channel now flowed. I try and do a Tarzan, and swing across.

I only hit the half-way mark.

I arrive at the highway with a wet backside and a hurt ego. The highway is a blur of tail-lights and a spray of water left behind in the wake of speeding automobiles.A few near-death experiences later, I finally make it in one piece to the grocery store across the highway.

I get back home with all the necessary ingredients, drenched to my bones and dive into preparing the dish with gusto.

I fire up the stove.Place the kadai on high flame.Whip up half a dozen eggs.Chop the onions and the shallots. And like a professional chef who knows exactly what he is doing, toss all the ingredients into the mix.

For a ghost of a moment, I sense Anthony Bourdain standing beside me, cheering me on.

After five minutes of spirited tug-of-war, the mess solidifies into a yellowish-green thingy that bears some semblance to what I initially pictured in my mind. I throw in dash of coriander, a sprinkle of pepper, a dollop of tomato sauce and mix in a generous amount of hope. I press it into bite sized blocks. Add garnish. And tadaaa! Ze hors d'oeuvres is ready!

My eyes get a little misty as I stare at my one-of-a-kind creation.

A few moments later, one of the savages stumbles into the kitchen sniffing at the trail of thick smoke. He calmly grabs a handful of what I painstakingly prepared and stuffs his mouth with all the gracefulness of a freaking toddler, as I watch on dumbfounded, holding the ladle raised in mid-air. Without as much as a glance in my direction, he scoops up everything onto a plate, taking that extra bit of care to leave a few crumbs behind and makes his getaway.

As he is walking out he goes: “You know what? It’s a little low on salt!” and adds as an after-thought “And it could do with some Capsicum.”

All of a sudden, I find the shiny meat-cleaver on the kitchen counter fascinating.

I have a feeling it’s going to taste some warm blood tonight.

Human Blood.

Movie Review: Persepolis (2007)

2010-09-10T02:43:00.012+05:30

[I understand that it’s a little too late and a little too futile to be reviewing a critically acclaimed animated feature film. But Persepolis happens to be one of my all time favorites.And I also figured it has been quite a while since my last review, so here goes...]

Persepolis is a movie adaptation of the autobiographical graphic novel of the same name written by Marjane Satrapi. The film went on to win the Jury Prize at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival.

The film is history beautifully retold, for the timeline follows the progression of Iran from the fall of the Shah of Iran through the tumultuous times of the Iranian revolution, ending in Iraq’s invasion of Iran.As the story unravels, we see the protagonist’s perspective of her childhood years spent in Iran, her subsequent move to Vienna and her forced return back.

The movie is witty for most its part and uses a quirky style that makes extensive use of the colors black and white.On the other hand, the monochromatic animation serves as a means to differentiate the past from the present and ensures that the most heart-breaking scenes remains intense.

So what makes this movie different from others?

While the rest of the world is bent on the extensive use of CGI effects and photorealism, Persepolis keeps it simple, elegant and old school.Among other things, the film explores the basic elements of society like family values, freedom and emancipation of women.

It combines humour,frank story-telling and a brilliantly composed soundtrack against the stark setting of the Iranian revolution to create a rich visual experience , that you will never forget.

Highly Recommended!

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

I Walk A Lonely Road...

2010-08-08T23:18:00.003+05:30

With the hectic work and the constant racket back at my apartment (thanks to the Neanderthals I live with), I barely get my precious eight hours of beauty sleep. And when your job entails organising and sitting through half a dozen long conference calls in a day and serve as a liaison between groups scattered across time zones, good sleep is but a necessity!

The not so perfect solution? - I catch up on my forty winks on the bus, to and from work.

Now, the etiquette on the bus is never spoken out loud, but everyone knows it. You are expected to plop into your seat, plug on your iPod and stare out of the window, like a zombie; except that you don't cannibalize your co-passenger.

The journeys usually turn out to be a very stress-free experience, unless you have someone asleep up front slobbering like a dog, with copious amounts of saliva pouring into the slip-stream. Or when the female next to you hooked on to the iPod suddenly decides to go near-ultrasonic, with her version of Lady Gaga's – Poker Face.

I on the other hand, usually sleep like a baby, my mouth wide open to gobble up an occasional airborne insect. Like a demure Venus fly-trap. I’m not kidding mind you; I've got eye witness accounts to backup this statement.

Anyway, aside from the fact that I am no sleeping beauty, there are times when things go awfully awry! Like the time I woke up to find out, that I had been drooling on the sleeve of this...ahem...‘massive’ female sitting next to me. But as luck would have it, the dame didn't notice it, and I managed to slink away with my body still in one piece.

(At this point if you go like yuck! I totally get it!)

However, of all my experiences, nothing is worse than waking up and finding out that you've overshot your designated stop by miles. Imagine being left stranded without having the remotest idea as to where you are, with a painfully full bladder and absolutely no sense of direction to boot.

No issues, I reassured myself.

I whipped out my newly acquired state-of-the-art smart phone with inbuilt GPS and accelerometer among other things, with the power to tweet, retweet, poke, digg and do other dastardly things to people, only to find that the battery was as dead as a dodo (pardon my idiom usage). And in such situations ,you can do nothing except scream a few expletives into the night to vent out all the frustration.

I looked around, but the streets were deserted since it was quite late into the night and there were no rickshaws to be seen. After a while,I decided to go with my intuition and started in direction of my home.

It’s strange , how you all of a sudden start appreciating how beautiful the night is when you are cut off from technology and enveloped by a dead silence with not a single soul in sight.

You notice the barely-there but persistent drizzle, the wet black pavement meandering into the infinite dark and the animate shadows cast by the halogen lamps. For the first time, you take in the mushrooms blooming in the crevices of the crumbling walls, the little toads trying to scramble across and take note of the divine smell of mangoes hanging in the air.

It was a long walk back through the maze of small by-lanes, but I never felt so clear-headed.

I never felt more at peace.

P.S: I couldn’t think of an appropriate title for this post, so I lifted it off Green Day’s – "Boulevard of Broken Dreams".

Potpourri

2010-07-31T23:57:00.006+05:30

Why do women just go gaga all of a sudden and coherent speech go out the window when it comes to the matter of British Men?

This other day , I'm stuck in a conference call with five middle aged women discussing the agenda for a workshop, with the meeting going at a snail’s pace. Enter, a smooth talking strategic sales manager from Britain, with a strong Welsh accent (the Anthony Hopkins kind ). Next thing you know, all hell breaks loose and the women start having a shouting match among themselves to impress the dude.

I disconnected soon after. And I think he did too.

****************

I discovered this anomalous-zone at my office cafeteria. Something like a mini Bermuda triangle.

People carrying food trays, tend to all of a sudden get very clumsy when they pass through this peculiar zone. The best part being that whoever sits at the table adjacent to it gets to sample free muffins and delicious black-forest cakes coming thier way.

I’ve had a couple of cupcakes and a mobile phone chucked in my direction. You just got to have good reflexes to catch it, that’s all!

****************

The security at my office has been reinforced with extra security checks.

Some crazy homeless woman boarded one of our office buses, got through three rings of security and a door with swipe access .Apparently, people only noticed her when she started distributing flyers to contribute money for her terminally ill brother-in-law’s great grandfather. (Some sham huh?)

But what’s this got to do with me?

Well, now that the security is tighter, smuggling chocolate milkshakes and brownies to my desk has now become a more perilous and daunting task.

The score for now reads:
The Solitary Kid -1 .The guard with the bad crotch itch - 4

****************

After a year of planning to do it, I finally managed to make some free time to go to Puducherry (Pondicherry to some), with a couple of gung ho guys. We managed to sample some excellent gourmet sea-food, drank late into the night, played beach football and altogether had a fabulous time.

If anyone ever goes down there do not miss out on Le Club - the French restaurant owned by Alliance Francaise. Especially, their mouth-watering Calamari in Lemon sauce.

****************

Over last weekend, I finally managed to ride the ‘inception’ wave.

It was good to see a film that actually stimulated your brain, after a really really long time. I’ve only once before walked out in a daze, my mind all fuzzy after watching a movie, and that was after ‘Fight Club’.

I experienced something akin to it after ‘Inception’. But then again, I wouldn’t say it deserves all the hype it’s attracting.

Momentary Madness

2010-07-07T00:43:00.002+05:30

Why do I fall in love at first sight with people I hardly know? Why can’t I remember any of my dreams more vividly? Why is my mind buzzing with a million questions but no sensible answers? Why is that the best of my brainwaves turn out to be so utterly insignificant? Why do I procrastinate, when the path I'm meant to tread is so obvious? Why is that the memories that I try hardest to repress are the ones I dwell on the most?

Why is the human psyche so complex and yet so ridiculously simple? Why is life as we know it composed of so many different inexplicable layers? Why is there an abundance of suffering and grief, but scarcely anything good? Why isn’t humanity built on better camaraderie between people? Why doesn’t people for once open up their hearts to each other and avoid the charade? Why are some things so awfully hard to let go of?

Why do I feel perfectly sane, even as I’m about to publish the most retarded piece?

An Interview with Self

2010-05-23T01:05:00.008+05:30

Alter Ego: Hey there buddy! What kind of trash do you usually write about?
The Solitary Kid: When I started blogging I was undecided on the kind of topics it should span over time.At first I meant for this to be a tech-blog talking of all the amazing things happening out there on the web; the web 2.0 revolution,augmented reality,analytics et al. But after giving it some thought , I felt it was too clichéd and decided instead to take the personal blogging route and just stick to laying bare my own life.

Occasionally, I do reviews of offbeat Japanese animes that no one in their right minds would watch. But that's only because I'm too lazy to set up a separate blog for it.

Alter Ego: How did you end up picking a title as lame as ‘A Reverie of Sorts’. And seriously, what’s with the stupid pen name?

The Solitary Kid: Well,as Rushdie might put it – “to know the title of something is also to understand what you write better.”

I considered a lot of titles apt for the blog ; abstract, exotic sounding, double entendres... But they were either already taken, risqué or too fancy for my own liking.

I’m stuck in own dream world half the time - under the shower, by the window of the bus, in meetings, while on the pot...the list just goes on and on. It is very apparent if you read any of my posts. That is how I ended up picking the current title, alluding to the Neverland that I’m stuck in.

The name ‘The Solitary Kid’ is a just an embodiment of Calvin's character as a whole , which is quite easy to figure out. And ever since I was a kid I’ve always wanted to write under a pseudonym.

Alter Ego: Care to shed some light on your reading habits?

The Solitary Kid: Well,I'm not much of a bookworm.And even if I do read , it's mostly fiction.But in hindsight, books have always been associated with major turning-points in my life.

Cases in point:

Most people usually make a foray into reading novels with classics like 'Huckleberry Finn' or 'The Christmas Carol'.My very first novel turned out to be a book titled 'Venus in India' by Charles Devereaux ; a victorian-era autobiography of a British Army officer, describing his erotic adventures with the wives and daughters of his fellow officers in painful detail.The fact that the battered copy belonged to my dad didn't go down well with my mom and there was quite an uproar in the house when it was discovered that I had read it.

During my high school,I came across Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time,which influenced me so much that it put an end to my religious faith .And my mom banned all books except those meant for studies in the house there after.

A year back,I decided that I'll get a tattoo done.I mulled over a lot of designs and finally settled on an ideograph in Kanji (I was profoundly influenced by all the manga reading at that point).

I vividly remember the day my parents discovered it.My mom was so bewildered that she wanted to know if they'd used some sort of a branding iron to burn the design into my arm .My dad on the other hand was making snide remarks that I better get a checkup done for AIDS for the rest of the week.Anyway, they've kind of gotten used to it now.

Alter Ego: Would you like to say anything to those poor things reading this?

The Solitary Kid: I’m very new to the blogosphere, considering the fact that I started writing a mere six months back.And since this happens to be my twenty fifth post, I'd like pay my tribute to a few regulars who keep coming back to these cursed pages and who almost always, manage to leave behind very encouraging comments.

So to Vamsi , Saro and Anirban ,who have been there from the very start and to all the rest of the people who’ve graced these pages - a huge shout goes out to all of you!

Alter Ego: Anything else you'd like to add?

The Solitary Kid:There is of course one other very special friend whose name I can't explicitly mention, and her blog is the one of the few that inspired me to start blogging in the first place. So princess, if you are reading this post, this anagram is meant as a tribute to you – “Aah! Can’t he Crash?”.

( I know it doesn't make much sense, but it's the best I could come up with! He he)

Peace Out!

Of Air Conditioners,Geckos and Cats

2010-05-01T00:00:00.012+05:30

I still remember the day the five of us, fresh from college and new to the city of Chennai , stood staring up at our current apartment.Our hearts full of hope and our bags crammed with an assortment of items - books on programming, jars of homemade pickles,ties borrowed (read flicked) from our dads and other worthless stuff.

The owner of the house looked us up and down and said “The rent is going to be ten thousand a month. No negotiations! And if you want to stay here, you’ll have to abide by three rules.”

“The first rule is, you will not bring strange women inside the house.”

“The second rule is, you WILL NOT bring strange women inside the house.”

I nudged ‘N’ standing beside me and whispered “Pssst...Doesn’t this remind you of rules from Fight Club?”

‘N’ nonchalantly replied back “Ummm...the Hindi movie?”

I realized that there was no point in talking further.

Meanwhile, the owner went on “The third rule and the final rule - you will not consume liquor within the premises of this house.”

“You can stay if you agree to stick by these rules. Capish?” he finished off sharply.

(Alright! Alright! He didn’t say “Capish”.That was just an added embellishment.Heh heh.)

Anyway, we agreed to the general terms and conditions and moved in that day into a house devoid of a single fan, television or any other convenience. We spent the first night,with the fumes from the fresh varnish in our nostrils and a cloud of mosquitoes hovering over our heads.

That was two years back.

Now the ties are used to hold down leaky taps, the books on Java serve as a prop for the televison and the showcase holds empty bottles of liquor that I’m pretty sure , contributed to a substantial portion of a certain liquor baron’s profits.

All in all, your typical Indian bachelors' pad.

We never had an air conditioner at home though and Chennai being one massive pressure cooker,dictated that we get one.So a few days back, we finally bought home a split AC and decided to get it installed.And needless to say, it turned out to be quite an ordeal.

A meeting was hastily called for and after a lot of strategizing and brainstorming, the operation finally kicked off.The floors were scrubbed spotlessly clean, the cobwebs were taken down (bringing down a shower of spiders with it), the three geckos involved in what can be only described as a ménage à trios were forcefully separated and the dust bunnies were rounded up.

In the midst all this, ‘Glutton’ and ‘Obelix’ had a contest as to who could lift the heavy compressor for the longest possible time, with the rest of us inconspicuously placing side bets. It resulted in the former dropping the compressor on his foot, smashing his big toe.

The poor thing spent the rest of the week limping around with a swollen foot and a bruised ego.

The installation went ahead without any more hassles after that.The AC is now in fine working order, except for the fact that it occasionally spits out of large chunks of ice in the middle of the night.

------------

[I didn't quite know where to fit these in.Originally,I intended for it to be another post with a story weaved into it,but decided to club it with this one in the end.]

We caught this feline deep in thought on the compound wall of our apartment.

Canon Powershot A720 IS ISO :250

This one doesn’t seem to be camera shy at all.

Sony DSC-H10 ISO:160

All photographs courtesy of Ajay Bellubbi.You can visit his photoblog here.

Movie Review: Appleseed Ex Machina (2007)

2010-04-29T03:03:00.007+05:30

It’s a strange story, how I came across this movie.

Sometime back, I was skimming through Wikipedia articles on replicants , after having seen Blade Runner and being very very impressed by it. While doing so, I came across an article on Bioroids - essentially synthetic organisms made of living tissue and cells, which in turn led me to the list of movies based on it.

And guess what? Appleseed turned out to be one of them.

I’ve of late, developed a strange fascination for animated movies made in Japan. For one, they are way ahead of their American counterparts in terms of the themes they deal with and their superior graphics, and secondly because you have so many more options to pick and choose from.

Appleseed Ex Machina is a sequel to Appleseed and a great deal better in terms of animation and storyline.

Its underlying themes are complex and multilayered. Set in the future, in a utopian world, it dwells on the complexities arising out of interactions between sentient beings, human and nonhuman.

The minute detailing that has gone into the movie is something that will definitely catch your eye. Apparently, fashion designer Prada was so impressed with the first movie , that she herself designed few of the costumes for the characters in the sequel.

If you are a huge fan of movies like Ghost in the Shell, this is one movie you’ll absolutely fall in love with.

Imdb: Appleseed Ex Machina (2007) & Appleseed (2004)

Image Source: Wikipedia.org

A Bout of Amnesia

2010-04-24T00:00:00.012+05:30

From when I passed out of college around two years back, the neuron count in my brain has been on a steady decline. I’ve many hypotheses as to the reasons behind it; all of them very unsound.

I’m afraid my brain, perhaps destined to be showcased alongside Einstein's brain (or one of its many pieces) is now fated to rot away and come to a very ordinary end.( I've always pictured it sitting on a pedestal in a rather snug cryogenic container, under a small spotlight , bathed in yellowish light).

Ok!Ok! I’m kidding about the showcasing the brain thingy!

I was never ever considered intelligentsia material mind you. As far as I can remember, I’ve often been described as aloof, delusional and insane but never intelligent. The myriad nicknames bestowed upon me, by my fellow Homo sapiens sapiens, splattered across my short life, stands testimonial to it.But I’ll leave the story of my nicknames for another piece.

Something happened of late that convinced me more than ever that my spirited grey-cells who have helped me survive so far ,are finally starting to rebel.

A few months back, I was called upon to make a short presentation to some very important clients. I stepped up to the stage and I started it off on a very good note. Half way through the presentation, I went “...the in-house built tool will help increase you operational efficiency by doing this and ...and ...and...”

And SILENCE!

Can you believe that? I lost my train of thought in the middle of a sentence with no less than twenty pairs of eyes focused on me.

For the first two seconds I was trying extremely hard to disentangle my thoughts, but the dead silence proved a little too overwhelming.

After three seconds the silence became so palpable, that I could feel my boss break into a sweat under his trench coat (the suit being a little too large for his short frame).The client, who was nodding off a few seconds back, was wide awake now and staring at me like I'd committed murder. Of course, the fact that the dude looked like he’d just stepped off the wrestling ring with his six foot frame, fake tan and rippling muscles, didn't help matters much either.

Normally you would recover from something like this by feigning thirst and reaching for a bottle of water or by shifting topics altogether. But I stood there petrified; still as a rock.

After five seconds trudged past, the ambient temperature suddenly dropped to what felt like sub-zero. My legs turned to jelly, my tongue turned sandpaper-ish and my heartbeats revved up to what felt like over two hundred beats per minute. All in all, I started experiencing something akin to vertigo.

Time froze over and there I was, perpetually trapped in a room full of living mannequins.

Thankfully, my boss came to my rescue and salvaged whatever was left of the presentation. Later, after the event was wrapped up, someone told me that the fiasco lasted all but seven seconds.

But to me, it felt like an eternity.

Odd Accoutrements

2010-04-22T01:36:00.004+05:30

I came across this odd ceramic salt and pepper shaker set at a cosy restaurant, while en route to Bangalore.

The shutterbug in me decided it was worth taking a picture and evidently my trusty old phone thought the same too, because the camera inside it rarely goes by my wishes.

See it for a grainy photograph or as a symbolic gesture.The choice is left to you!

The Marriage Craze

2010-04-18T12:13:00.011+05:30

Sometimes, I get the feeling that everyone in my extended family is obsessed with marriages.

Whenever I strike up a conversation with any of my male cousins, the first thing that comes up is -‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ and the second being - ‘When are you getting married?’.

All the twenty-ish something guys in my hometown back in Kerala seem to have two major obsessions in life: a profile on bharatmatrimony.com and a fine, thick and well groomed moustache.The females aren’t too far behind either.

I absolutely hate getting embroiled in controversial discussions. Especially those involving marrying me off to some unlucky woman (who I always fear will smell of fresh coconut oil).

Being one of those demure types who love to sit cooped up in a corner with a book; I usually do a vanishing act as soon as distasteful conversations come up. The only point of time at which I’m like the most vulnerable is at the dining table while digging into a bucket from KFC or when I’m on the toilet seat.

I stayed over at my parents place in Bangalore the last weekend. And what was to be an ordinary lunch turned into a terrible counselling session.

This was the conversation that took place:

Dad: You know what I think? (points a finger in my direction) You should get married before you turn 27.

The piece of chicken leg that I was attacking slipped out of my hand. Split second decision – Do I stay? Or make a dash for it to the bedroom?

Too late.

Mom: Na, it is better if he settles down before 25.

Self: Where is this coming from? I am still soooo young!

Mom: The last I heard ,his grandmother had already started searching a girl for him back in Kerala!

Self: What? Without me knowing about it? What is that senile woman’s problem?

Now that I mentioned my wily old grandma, it’s only fair that I tell a bit more about my biggest nemesis.

A slightly built woman in her early eighties, she’s a religious fanatic like most people her age. Her days are spent either with the prayer book in hand or her battered green tome titled Homeopathy Materia Medica.

But she’s not the one to lie around on a bed and get wasted away. She’s always in the thick of action - family disputes, land deals, marriages...the list just goes on! And she almost always has access to the juiciest gossips.

Mom: Hey she’s my mother! And she’s not senile!

Dad: I think we should find you someone like your mother .Someone modest, intelligent and beautiful.

Mom:( blushing all of a sudden) Oh! Please...

My dad was always a great flirt I tell you! It’s a shame that I didn’t inherit that particular gene.

Self: I’m not getting married before 30.Only chicks get married so fast. What about my higher studies? What about enjoying my life?

Dad: What are you talking about? You have all the time in the world to enjoy your life.

Mom: Hey how about Shashi’s daughter? Didn’t he promise to marry off his daughter to our first born child back in the eighties?

Dad: Ha ha...That crazy bugger has made such sweet deals with everyone I practically know. He has promised his daughter to a dozen different people.

Self: I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.

Dad: (becoming serious) You remember Giri? Venkat uncle’s son? You know what he told he told his parents the other day?

Self: (sigh) What?

Dad: He told them, it’s only fair that his parents get to choose his bride since they are the ones who helped him reach the stage he’s at now. Now that is what it means to be a good son!

Call me a chicken! But that conversation freaked me out enough. I’ve decided I’m not going back to Bangalore for a while ; realized it’s better to stay out of my parents' radars for some time.

Meanwhile , I fervently hope that I don’t stumble upon my own profile on some shady matrimonial website.

Analyze Your Blog

2010-03-27T20:48:00.008+05:30

[This unconventional guide is meant for folks out there new to the Blogosphere.For those who haven’t read any of my other moronic guides please refer to here and here]

Ever since I set up this blog a few months back, my learning curve has been quite steep and I felt it’s only fair that I share that knowledge with the rest of the tribe.

Although, I’ve tried to cut down on the jargons as much as possible, I have to warn you... it makes for a very dry read!Better have some coffee or a glass of whiskey at hand;whichever works for you!

Now, I’m sure most people are aware that their blogs are accessed via two* major channels:

Subscriptions to the RSS feed
Actual visits to the blog page

*Subscriptions through emails are very few

So essentially, the traffic analysis to your blog is incomplete unless you cover both of them.

Although I'm sure almost every blog out there has some kind of a hit counter or a live traffic feed widget, to monitor the inflow of traffic , you can always kick it up a notch by using Feedburner and Google Analytics.

Feedburner

Nowadays, almost all the readers out there find it too cumbersome to visit their favorite blogs to keep track of updates. They end up subscribing to them through feed readers like Feedly, Google Reader or FeedReader, which gets updated as soon as a post is published.

However, many people are still oblivious to the existence of feed readers, which is illustrated by this geeky cartoon I found the other day.

Source: http://notinventedhe.re/

But the fact is that there are too many of these feedreaders out there utilizing different standards of RSS feeds. And this is where Feedburner comes into the picture.

To ensure that any feedreader can consume your blog’s feed; it’s essential that you set up a Feedburner account. It’s a free service from Google that helps you manage all your feeds through a dashboard. It also gives you a lot of options to customize, share, monetize and publicize it.

My Feedburner dashboard

Trivia: Did you know that Google acquired Feedburner for over $100 million in 2007?

Google Analytics
There are a lot of useful services out there to monitor blogs. But from what I’ve found (because I have a genuine interest in web analytics), the analytics package from Google is the best of the lot.

Sure it's an enterprise-class analytics service, but it’s free and comes with very intuitive reports that a layman can easily decipher. All of have to do is create a profile on it and it will give you a tracking code you can embed in your blog .It then allows you to monitor information like the most read posts, top referrers and a multitude of other fascinating metrics.

A world map showing where the hits originate

It takes about ten minutes to set it up and a day to completely activate it. All you have to do is follow the instructions on their web site.

Trivia:Did you know that Google Analytics is currently in use at around 57% of the 10,000 most popular websites?

You can check out both of them here: Feedburner & Google Analytics .Trust me you won't be disappointed!

An Unusual Phase

2010-03-21T12:14:00.012+05:30

[Warning: Sob story ahead!Involves a lot of cribbing!]

A little bit of solitude and peace of mind. There is nothing I desire more.

It has been two weeks of absolute mayhem at the office. The sleep deprivation, the endless telephone calls, the unusually fussy boss, the uncooperative support staff and a numerous other things have drained me psychologically. And from the looks of it, it’ll drag on for a while longer.

Anything and everything seems to irritate me. People carelessly swinging their lunch boxes as they walk, the stubborn stain on my new pair of jeans, the fire drill bang in the middle of an important call, the long queues at the ATM, the crowded lifts, the oppressive heat....everything seems to take on a crazy hue.

I didn't realize how much I needed a break until I found myself alone in the elevator one afternoon, leaning against its wall,the cool brushed steel against my forehead .Somehow , it helped leech out a bit of the worries.

Sure,I understand it’s nothing but a passing phase.And everyone goes through it. But when you suddenly become conscious of the fact, that you are not the jovial kind you normally are and get irked by the smallest of things, it’s a little unsettling.

I look at a picture of a tranquil Arabian sea off the Goan beach , taken on a lazy September afternoon last year.

Canon PowerShot A720 IS f/8.0 ISO 80

They say it's unwise to dwell on the past.But it all seems so long ago.
Like it never happened altogether.

Movie Review: Afro Samurai (2007)

2010-03-03T20:53:00.002+05:30

Afro Samurai is a set of five episode anime series which was later re-released as a movie under a single banner.It is often featured under the avant-garde genre.

Although I was a little skeptical about watching it ,it turned out to be one hell of a pick.What catches your eye first is its out-of-the-world stylization - it’s just spectacular! The blur of colors, the long ribbons swaying in the wind ,the highly detailed samurai swords - all of it just blows you away.With it's extreme violence and copious quantities of blood splattered across every frame , it reminds one of the ultra-violent cult classic - Ninja Scroll.

Set in feudal Japan with overtones of modern civilization, the story line revolves around the quest of a single samurai for revenge . The main protagonist, ‘Afro’ is voiced by Samuel .L .Jackson, who is accompanied by a side-kick named ‘Ninja Ninja’ - a figment of his own imagination. The villain is voiced by the awesome Ron Perlman, of the ‘Hell Boy’ fame.And to top it all of , the soundtrack by RZA superbly complements the long fight sequences.

The movie is an absolute must watch; especially if you are a fan of movies like Kill Bill and Ninja Scroll.It also has a sequel called Afro Samurai: Resurrection , which was nominated for two Emmys and is equally entertaining.

IMDB: Afro Samurai (2007) & Afro Samurai: Resurrection (2009)

[Credit of course goes out to my younger brother for introducing me to the amazing worlds of Afro Samurai, Naruto and Bleach.
Thanks Dawg! :D ]

Revisiting a Younger Me

2010-02-28T19:15:00.005+05:30

Remember a time when you were a kid and didn’t give a rat’s ass about what others used to think? When the only thing you feared was the darkness, which came with the night? When given a chance, you would go streaking down the street clad in nothing but your birthday suit, in broad daylight? When heartbreaks were things unheard of?When you didn’t know anxiety or anti-depression pills? Remember an innocent and free spirited you,when you were for once truly happy,content and carefree?

If there’s one thing I do know for sure, it's that some of my happiest years were spent as a kid in Trivandrum,where I finished my primary education.

The tiny government sponsored quarters by the coastline,surrounded by bleached white sand .Waking up to my mom’s screams of “Get up you lazy bums!!” - all the way from the kitchen.The spectacular sight of the sun rising from the shadows of the blue mountains. The early morning scuffles with my younger brother. The dreaded veggies served with the breakfast ,that I used to toss onto my brother’s plate behind my mother's back. The five minutes spent dressing up – attire consisting of a tiny shirt, even tinier shorts and white canvas shoes.

The little figure of my mom standing on the veranda of our house yelling – “Go straight to school!” .The detour to the haunted well in the midst of the grove of Acacia trees. The raids on the headmistress, Mrs. Rosemary’s big Almond tree on the way to school.The times spent watching the tadpoles crisscross in the little pool of water, by the roadside . The spectacle of my brother with his chocolate-brown canvas shoe , from gauging the depth of a puddle.

Arriving late for the school assembly and getting to kneel down as a result, in front a somber gathering .The walk down the gloomy corridors to the madhouse that was section II–‘C’, deemed the unruliest class in the whole school.

Getting kicked out promptly again, owing to the incomplete homework book. The race to the hockey ground during the break for football , played with an empty plastic bottle.The hours spent standing atop the bench for failing to answer the evil mathematics tutor's questions.

Lunching crammed between two of the cutest girls of the class; cat-eyed Laxmi and Kavita with her long hair, dripping fresh coconut oil. Flicking someone’s pink scale in retribution for them flicking my non-functional sharpener. Starting a fight with some random never-seen-before kid in the corridor. Narrating the story of how a rocket smashed through a dozen coconut trees , to an audience composed of wide-eyed fellow eight year olds.

The long walks back home in the torrential downpour with my brother in-tow, lugging bags bigger than our tiny bodies. The headlong dives into the deep potholes, beside the road as if they were our own private little jacuzzis. The shocked look on my mom’s face, of seeing two kids standing in the doorway with wide toothless grins, covered from head to toe in slimy brown sludge.

The evening games of blind man's bluff on the vast stretches of white sand. The expeditions with the local gang of kids to collect and bottle ladybirds, dragonflies and an assortment of other insects. The trap holes dug in the sand, in the courtyard, meant for our unsuspecting maid .The numerous times we scaled the walls to sample the ripe Gooseberries growing in our neighbor’s compound. The trips to the open air theater screening retro movies. The long post-dinner walks under the starlight. The humid nights we brothers spent weaving ghost stories, scaring each other to death.

Ah! Those were the days...

Sometimes when I slip into an abrupt reverie , I'm involuntarily transported back to the past.And although I know it's a completely pointless thought, I yearn to go back again even it's for the tiniest of moments.

(Sigh) If only I had a time machine!

A Different Perspective

2010-02-21T13:51:00.012+05:30

I sit transparent, by the corner of a dusty road. A road that comes to an abrupt stop at the feet of an idol of a nameless local deity. They seem to springing up all over the city, in awfully large numbers nowadays!

Lining the decaying road is the only cheap gym in the locality; an establishment ridiculously named ‘The Loser’s Gym’ .I reckon it’s quite famous, considering the crowd it pulls in! And a couple of other small houses adorned by elaborate kolams in front of their doors.

Although I might seem inactive outwardly, my feral instincts are at an all time high. I take in everything around me - the old beggar hobbling across the street, the bedizened eunuchs out about collecting their daily haftas and the cute girl who walks past me leaving behind a faint trace of jasmine. Oh! It just drives my olfactory senses wild!

The banded cat that I chased across the street yesterday struts past me, his tail high up, without a care in the world; giving me a long dirty look. He’s showing off. I know it and he knows it!

Anyway, I hate that speedy little bugger! The next time I catch him off-guard, I swear it, he’s toast!

In some far away corner of the world, as Tiger Woods steps on to the stage to deliver his apology speech. As Elton John, declares that ‘Jesus was gay!’ .As crazy software engineers fly small planes into buildings. I love my peaceful existence. And I’m sure glad to have my sanity about me.

Ah! The cute girl is now on her way back.

As she sashays down the road, the gym instructor suddenly turns to stone. The milkman on the bicycle collides with electric pole.Even the kid with rubber bicycle tire stops dead in his tracks.

She stops by me and gently runs her manicured hands through my hair.I see the gym instructor with the washboard abs, stands framed in the doorway of the gym - salivating , wishing he was me.

As for me? I’m just another friendly know-it-all stray. And being a dog has its advantages.

[This is one narrative style I always wanted to experiment with, partly inspired by Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red.But I knew it was a failed experiment as soon as I wrote it.

Anyway,you be the decider!]

The Proposal That Went Unsaid

2010-02-14T00:00:00.049+05:30

[I intended to deliver this rather half-assed proposal, but decided to shelve the plan in the end , because it would have ended up jeopardizing a lot of things in the process.

For a long time, I was undecided on whether to publish it , but realized that someone less articulate can perhaps reuse it with slight modifications.Moreover, I had this crazy urge to test the undefined boundaries of the so called 'personal' blogging.

Anyway, enough said ! Here you go – a minuscule window into my very cold soul!]

Z,

I resolutely believed all my life that, I’d never find someone, who sees me for who I really am; who loves life as much as I do. I’d gone so much down that horrid path that I’d altogether given up on hope.

That is when you walked into my life.

To be honest, I never took notice of you at first; never saw you for what you truly were. I admit it! To me, you were just another ordinary girl. I was far too shallow and blinded by psychological defences of my own making.

I realized, I harboured feelings for you, from the moment I started waking up day after day, with a terrible heartache and a longing to hear your voice. Every conversation we’ve had, however short, always left me with a fluttering heart. Every time we sat across each other, I had to fight off an overwhelming urge to hold you. Every night we didn’t talk; I went to sleep with a painful emptiness, that I knew not how to fill.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve changed me in more ways than you can possibly imagine.

Your mind is what fascinates me the most. You are extremely intelligent, but go out of your way to hide it from others. You articulate things logically, with passion and maturity that people strive to attain all their lives. When you laugh, the world seems a better place to be in.And your sense of humour is beyond parallel. As for your kohl lined eyes.... Ah! They speak a language of their own, without you ever uttering a syllable.

With everything said, you still remain an enigma to me.

I’ve always felt that a connection between two people is truly dependant on how far they are willing to learn from each other, and you are perfect in that respect. And perfect in every other sense. With everything I know about you, you intrigue me unlike anyone I’ve encountered before.

Somehow, I just can’t seem to get enough of you!

I know it’s you I’ve been waiting for, all my life. It somehow feels just right. You’re everything I dreamt of and more! And you are the best friend, I could've asked for.

I love you Z! And I always will, whatever the universe has in store for us.

Love,

The Hobbit

Straight from the Desk

2010-02-13T03:26:00.004+05:30

It is the post-lunch hour and I’m sitting in my cube (IT slang for cubicle), my own little haven, hidden away from the eyes of my very ambitious boss.

I've just downed a rather extravagant lunch with extra helpings of sweet-pongal, sautéed in ultra-clarified ghee.If I die right now due to some freak accident, I’ll die a very content man.

In the background, the HVAC’s incessant drone is already working its magic; the so called hormone of darkness is putting people on my floor to sleep .The female sitting in the opposite cubicle is already deep in her regular siesta - hands on the keyboard poised to type, eyes hidden away behind the glare of the monitor on her spectacles, the only give away being the slight drooling at the mouth.

I’m having this huge itch to go cry “WAAZZAA!” to shock her back to reality, but I think I’ll resist the temptation and abstain from it just this one time.

Allow me to describe my little sanctuary.

On one side I have a picture of Calvin’s dad pinned up with multi-hued pins yelling 'I’m late for work!' and beside it I have a copy of the poem 'The Thousandth Man' by Rudyard Kipling.

My faithful system sits in one corner. I’m told it has already seen two previous owners before it came into my possession and has quite a history behind it, but I don’t want to digress here. I’ll leave that story for later.

The desk is a mess with papers strewn about, a multitude of them, most of which belongs in the bin; minutes of meetings, brochures and scraps of paper with my cryptic handwriting on it.While I see art, others see chaos.

Although a very late read, there is also a copy of the Midnight’s Children on the desk. I’m already smitten by Rushdie’s style of ‘magical realism’. It also serves as (ahem) a chick magnet. I’ve already had a couple of them flocking around my desk asking about it.

This also happens to be one of those rare days when my boss is not around.Usually,I require some solitude to pen a few lines. The moment I set foot at my flat, I’m welcomed by the TV on full volume with people crowded around it watching women’s wrestling or beset by invitations to get smashed on Old Monk,which makes 'thinking' almost impossible.

So nowadays, I do all my ‘thinking’ on long bus rides to and from work. I tell you, nothing stimulates your brain better that seeing jaywalkers crossing the streets with gay abandon throwing traffic out of gear or rickshaw drivers take it out on each other , with the policemen for bystanders.Or for that matter, when you see guys letting loose their bladders on wall graffitis of certain ministers.

Anyway, this makes my thirteenth post. Hope the pantheon of gods goes easy on you after reading this cursed piece! Cheerios!

The Movie Connoisseur in Me

2010-02-08T19:51:00.011+05:30

Here's the thing , I've been running short on creative juices for a while.It seems to have just frozen solid. So I thought, why not another short guide?

Now to start with - a small confession! I'm a movie freak! Yup,that's right! I'm one of those guys who averages around thirty movies per month.One for everyday of the month.Crazy huh?

A detailed self-analysis of my life,revealed that this fetish (if I may call it that), stems from an insatiable craving for creativity, which my mundane life doesn't provide for.

I’m no different from others mind you. I pick up the movies based on the weighted average score on Internet Movie Database, check out a couple of reviews and then watch it at leisure,just like everyone else.

Some movies, you watch and then forget. Then there are the exceptional few , which leaves a profound and indelible impression on your psyche. It leaves you in a daze for a period and gives that grey matter of yours some good workout. Ever experienced the feeling?

As I sit about compiling a list of ten of my all time favourite movies, from a rather a long list of them, many of which deserves appreciation; it's not meant to be a critique , nor am I for that matter going to make any animadversions . It's more to embed a piece of me in this macrocosm of zeros and ones,so that a decade from now, I can look back at this phase of my life and reminisce. And probably even have a good laugh about it.

Here are ten of my all time favourite movies (1990-2010) in no particular order:

300 - for its mind blowing CGI effects, spectacular colours and considering that it's a story that's been retold a million times.
Fight Club -for an adrenalin fuelled first half ,brilliant editing and the schizophrenia twist .
Pulp Fiction -for I consider it Tarantino’s pièce de résistance (not to mention Samuel L Jackson's smoky voice).
Requiem for a Dream - for its stark depiction of drug abuse and Clint Mansell's haunting soundtrack.
Snatch - for Guy Ritchie's very unique style .
The Dark Knight -for Heath Ledger's portrayal of Joker and it's well written script.
The Matrix -for its mind bending storyline and brilliant cinematography.
The Shawshank Redemption -for a beautifully scripted story and because its stands for the very definition of drama.
Trainspotting - for its trippy storyline, dry humour and its underlying soundtrack.
Watchmen - for its amazing visuals and for staying faithful to the original graphic novel.

Finally, a quote from Pulp Fiction for that perfect finish.

“It breaks down like this - It's legal to buy it, it's legal to own it, and, if you're the proprietor of a hash bar, it's legal to sell it. It's legal to carry it, but that doesn't really matter 'cause - get a load of this - if you get stopped by the cops in Amsterdam, it's illegal for them to search you.
I mean, that's a right... the cops in Amsterdam don't have!”
-Vincent Vega, Pulp fiction (1994)

P.S: Felt the one from Ezekiel is quoted too often.

[Image Source:wikipedia.org]

[Last Updated :on a lonely Tuesday evening ,9th Feb 10]

Yet Another Ordinary Week

2010-01-31T12:12:00.008+05:30

This week was probably the mother-of-all monotonous + awfully dull weeks.

I’m usually inclined towards workaholism mind you, but of late, for the past one month, I’ve been working on crappy write ups and on creating worthless decks that no one in their right minds will go through.So on Monday , when my alter ego gave me a choice between procrastination (the red pill) and work (the blue pill), I chose the red one without a moment’s hesitation.

And so began my pointless exploration of the World Wide Web, reading up on basically anything that Google threw at me- from Dunbar’s number to psychoanalytic theories like Oedipus complex. I also found this extremely useful plug in to Firefox called ‘Feedly’, which serves as awesome syndication feed reader.

In this process, I realized how incapacitated I would be if barred from using Google’s services. For once, I pity all those Chinese dudes. With no porn and all the censoring, they’re probably in the ‘Walking Ghost’ phase of their life.It was nice to finally see Google take a stand and turn off its search result filtering.

Majority of my non-productive work hours were spent alternating between the blogs of these people:

Shenoy’s extraordinary 'Laugh your ass off' pieces
SRK’s ‘mental’ blog (Don’t miss out on his Why am I a Financier?)
Ms.Achar’s blog on how she and the universe keeps each other engaged
Idlingintopgear’s blog (It also provides an amazing account of his ongoing MBA journey)

I rarely play the evangelist, but these guys really are worth the read!

For some odd reason, as I write, Jay Sean’s going “Baby go down down down down down, even if the sky is falling down” in my head.

I know!You think how lame lyrics can get and then something like the aforementioned thingy comes along. But I just can’t seem to stop it.

Should’ve never listened to it in the first place!

P.S: One of my random clicks redirected me to this relatively old article: Cannabis doped with Viagra.

How insanely cool is that?

P.P.S :Oh and somebody tells me abstract blogging is the new in thing!I should try it out sometime! :D

Runner's High

2010-01-26T20:13:00.003+05:30

'Adagio' echoes through the room.The illuminated display shows 5.30 AM. I reach out and hit the snooze button on my phone. Five more minutes I tell myself, and bury back into the pillow. Two minutes later the recurrent alarm goes off again. This time I hesitantly raise myself up.

My brain slowly starts taking in the surroundings. It’s still pitch dark outside. My roommates are still fast asleep . I’m sure even a fog horn wouldn’t be sufficient to wake them up.

‘A’ who when I last noticed was fast asleep at one corner of the room, has traversed magically to the middle of the room. While some people sleep walk, ‘A’ strangely likes to do what I call a ‘sleep-roll’, turning in an anticlockwise direction as he crawls along. At his current pace he’ll make it to the bathroom in a short while. ’K’ is in the other corner wrapped up into a cocoon in his chequered blanket, mumbling something in his sleep. When he’s wide awake he always uses a brand of archaic Kannada but now in his delirious sleep he’s reprimanding someone in English.

I splash some water across my face, have a glass of water and slip into my tracks. I squeeze some superglue into my pair of running shoes to keep the heels from falling out and make my way out on to the streets outside.

Owners of small shacks are already pulling up their shutters, getting ready for the busy day ahead. As I hit the road,automobiles whiz past me and then come to a screeching halt owing to the new speed breaker on the highway.This in turn rouses the dogs and they launch into a symphony of howls,breaking the tranquillity.

I make my way down the winding road, setting a pace so that I can go without any stops. The circuitous route is akin to an obstacle course, with generous splatterings of fresh cow dung, stray dogs waiting to give chase in case you exceed their version of the speed limit, milkmen brushing past you doing the balancing act on cycles, an occasional metro water tanker looking to run you down and carcasses of unfortunate animals victim to road-kill. A parkour enthusiast might just be forced to redefine free-running if he ever takes it.

As I run alone along the arteries of a city slowly awakening from its slumber, I leave my worries and fears behind and let my mind wander free. My legs go numb and my lungs struggle for oxygen but I’m barely aware of it.

I’m for once high on a mix of life and endorphins. I’m also in the quest for that moment. The surreal ghost of a moment when everything falls into place and the path destined for you is crystal clear.

But the moment never comes. It always seems just a little out of reach.

Movie Review : 5 centimetres per Second (2007)

2010-01-09T20:54:00.004+05:30

When I picked this movie off “The best article every day’s –Top 10 Anime movies that surpass Disney by light years”, I was expecting something violent and gory with lots of katanas and hack 'n' slash action involved.

What I discovered was something else altogether.

The anime is a moving story of two kids who fall in love, showing you just how much of an impact the reverberations from their first kiss have on the rest of their lives. For most of its part ,its told from the view point of a boy named Takaki Tōno. It's so visually astounding, this masterpiece from Makoto Shinkai has to be seen to be believed.

Disney has made a lot of hits over the years, but the Japanese artists are masters when it comes to expressing raw emotions. When a character goes through agonising moments or feels great happiness, you invariably experience the same feelings.

The movie is composed of three parts and runs to barely over 60 minutes.

It’s a must watch for all the hopeless romantics out there, because the range of unbelievable amount of emotions packed into it is just extraordinary.

Highly recommended by me!

IMDB:5 centimetres per Second

[Image Source:wikipedia.org]