Mark the Second- Mark IV

The Big Leap....

2008-02-18T04:20:34-08:00

So Guys... As might be expected, I am sick of poor Google ratings and people with poorer frequency and content butchering me on the track. Moreover I wish to stick to my principle of yearly migration. Only this time, I leave the confines of the blogdom I started with.

Like the arctic terns move to the south and back, as the salmons move from seas up, as Mallus move from Mallu-land to Dhubai, so too have I moved to Wordpress.

Be nice and bookMARK http://markalive.wordpress.com

Im giving you 30 seconds as of now, before I redirect you to my new site...
Ok thats just an arbitary figure, but I really am redirecting you...

PS: If this doesn't work out I'll soon be back here, but don't you worry... I'll probably put up a redirect at my wordpress....

PPS: Stop reading my disclaimers at least now

PPPS: If you are still reading, click here

How to Ask Her Out

2008-02-17T22:34:35-08:00

…And not come out looking stupid!

If you love a woman, tell her that she’s really wanted…

If you love a woman, tell her that she’s the one…

She needs somebody to tell her that its gonna last forever…

Tell me if you ever really, really really ever loved a woman…

Actually don’t tell me. But then again…

I was watching this show on Channel V the other day called ‘Webcam Goddess’. Well, it really sounded like some porn flick so I didn’t risk surfing off.
Anyway, it turns out to be a show where you send in queries regarding your love life and the hostess gives you ingenious solutions to it. I puked only thrice!

My favorite was this guy from someplace up north.

‘Dear Goddess,

I am really close to this girl and of late have started really liking her. I know she likes me too, from the way she sees me with the corner of her eye and the way she touches her hair. But I’m really scared to ask her out. What can I do?

Northie-not-killed-in-mumbai’

For which the apparent love doc hostess says he should send her ‘beautiful’ bouquets for like a week, and then write down an anonymous letter telling her how much he loves her. And she would definitely reply if she had those feelings too. Definitely. If she does send in a reply to an anonymous letter, she sure is dumb enough to love!

Not that I’m the God of these matters or so, but I seem to know as much to understand that not only is the trick not going to work, but the girl is going to think he’s gay, which means all her friends, associates and acquaintances are struck off the list as well!

So I just thought I should do my little to the ignorant world of never-been-non-singular men, and i-think-i-found-love women by throwing in a bit of experiential advice.

First thing, if you are in the same boat as the northie guy, make sure the girl isn’t looking through the corner of her eye because of some opthal issues. Love and squint eyes can have fairly misleading symptoms. Second, there’s this strange corner-eye 'wtf' reaction that could be interpreted in a million ways, so just run a quick self check: odor, zipper, flipper, rips, color combos and the likes…

Next, if she’s brushing her hair a lot, she’s probably got an itch. Which is probably contagious. So if you don’t imagine a lovely honey moon where you pick the lies of each other’s scalps, move to the next.

Now if it finally comes down to asking her out, don’t expose her to flowers, money or the likes. If it doesn’t work out, it’s a useless investment. If it does, she’s going to expect more everytime!

And now, finally, the advice! Coming out without IDIOT written all over the face can be quite risky. And the tricks are never fail-proof. So you need good basic-psychology knowledge. Women are at a totally different plane when it comes to sense of humor. Ideally, if you can’t find the niche, move over to more serious stuff. It doesn’t have to be good or even true. Just say it.

One of the biggest, surest and probably the oldest tricks in the book is the ‘bad-guy’ game. Drill into her the knowledge that you are an evil, twisted bad, bad, bad guy. I tried the villain laugh as well, but it didn’t work for me. Maybe it would, for you. Now when she’s convinced you are the Satan himself, be yourself and do the stuff you normally would. Now despite being the cheap, conceited, uninterested guy that you are, you put yourself on the highest pedestal of nice on the relative scale. Thank you, Mr. Einstein.

When people were not really interested in buying a luxury car made by a cheap manufacturer, Lexus came out with the test drive initiative. And that has proven to be one of the best marketing pitches ever. Joke about being in a relationship. Put it into her head. Make her think of the life ahead. Demo boy-friend ver1.0… Or even better- try for a beta release (alpha-beta 'beta' you use in software, not the hindi one!)

Given your stature of having to read through a blog for love advice, I wouldn’t believe these techniques would work for you. But in case there be some misinterpretation and you do eventually lose your singularity, may all hell break lose. Live a lie!

Claimer:
The stunts mentioned above have been tried by experts. Don’t try this at home. Markiv and his Kootaalingal do not take any responsibility from loss to life, property or marital status arising from the above.

If you are a girl reading through this, I have neither knowledge nor experience in these games and they have been written by a totally different person purely for entertainment purposes.

The Weakest Amoeba

2008-02-10T23:43:12-08:00

Let me cut directly to the point here. I wrote this in a heightened state of awareness so most of whats here doesn’t make sense even to my otherwise sober self. Apparently the higher level of certain chemicals in my blood throws my purpose to propose break through scientific theories into high gear. Even if they are not really break through. And even if they have already been proposed.

OK. Before I even start, there are at least of a couple of assumptions that you would have to consider.

Primarily I consider Natural selection and Random Mutation to be correct. There are of course others like Intelligent Creation, which has not yet been fully accepted by the scientific community or Genesis, which has not been accepted by anyone except the pope.

I also assume the philosophy that change is not a choice of comfort but rather a forced adaption. Therefore you would really not be motivated to launder that pair of jeans until that ketchup stain has started decomposing and sending off methane and stuff.

Right from the start, when sperm cells were actual living organisms (the amoeba- paramecium era), there must have been a few guys who weren’t as adept as the others in making a good living. By random mutations, these guys would have been the weaker guys in the group unable to live happy amongst the stronger amoebae. Obviously the first few days would have seen a lot of weaker deader amoebas lying on the floor. But eventually these guys would have formed a kind of socialism between their kind to ensure a fairer competition. The first multi-cellular organisms, my friends, and the beginning of communism!

As we go on, these team-worked multi-cellular communist guys would have gained a greater power than the fascist singles at some point, and become the de facto mechanism. The progression of some of these guys into the first plants makes sense as well. Of course there could have been some that could neither get its food the sun-light way, not use the previous techniques. I assume this would have led to a primitive cannibalism where the stronger group of a few multi-cellular guys could have had to eat their step cousins for a living. I bring to you, Animals… and Basic Capitalism 1.0!

Further on, lets take the jump to the great grandfather of you and the chimpanzee. Some of these guys would have been great jumpers and loved to be that way. But the other not-so-good jumper guys would be driven to live in smaller groups on the ground simply because they have to, what with all those lions, tigers, Raj Thakreys and other predators running around. Groups would need administration. Even amongst these groups, there would be those incapable of physical strains and toils. For their survival they would need to subjugate and utilize the physical labor of their neighbors. Slavery and humanoids have always been famous in Africa. With eventual run-aways and revolts of the now ‘weaker’ slaves, a few would have ventured out of their natural habitat by force. And this probably predates Moses, but who are we to question the texts of Gods. In unknown territory, these guys would have invented primitive tools such as crude rocks to frighten and kill.... Usually other animals… Except Fridays in ancient China…

Purely because of the incapacity of the inventors to take the ‘normal’ path, this could have progressed into other cheaper primitive technology, such as shaped stones, bronze and iron, the wheel, Woodworks’ Grate Water and Mahindra Renault Logan. Not necessarily in that order.

Even in later history, it was the inability of the Spanish to live in their own land’s resources that sent them to conquer the world. Inability, my friends. That’s what causes evolution. It is not the strongest amoeba that went on to evolve and work with Intel duo core processors today, but rather the not-so-able Ramdoss. Simply because of his advantage of being a not-so-good amoeba. [Edit: Here we quote Ramdoss as the icon of tamil-ness, and further his technical prowess as well]

I present to you, and perhaps forward it to the Nature and Evolution Journals. It is not the strongest individual that goes up the evolution ladder, but rather the weaker group. In short, I theorize that evolution is a result of the desire for groups of weaker guys to survive and therefore serendipitously invent an easier way of living.

In the aspect of history and economics, I bring to light that but for Karl Marx, Communism and probably CPI(M) we would all have had to resort to binary fission during first-night scenes.

I also wish to reinstate that you are now reading this blog simply because you once sucked as an amoeba, a fungus, a proto-plant, an ant, a goat, a tiger, a chimpanzee and a South African, in that order.

PS: I am super drunk now and I’m writing this to see how hilarious I sound when I drink alone.

PPS: This theory probably exists and therefore my Nobel prize snatched away, but you know I did not know that the theory, which if it exists, I do not as of this moment know of.

PPPS: Stop reading my disclaimers and read the stuff above.

PPPPS: OK. That wasn’t all that random. Infact it even makes sense! I must start watching more KTV!

The Tamil Disease

2008-02-06T01:09:38-08:00

I grew up on tamil movies. I really did, like for the longest time. I mean, tell me what you will, but any average tamil movie beats any other media (TV Shows, Radio, Books, Cartoons, Newspapers….) in entertainment value. Except maybe the Araittaiarangam that TR runs now…

But that’s not what we are here for. Tamil-dom stands for a number of achievements. In fact if Ramdoss and likes are to be taken at word value, the initial tamils came up with concepts of building, advanced astronomy, nuclear physics, quantum mechanics and sending guys up the moon. Tamilness has always been the synonym for scientific achievement. And I was just wondering at the minimal use of science in tamil cinema (except for miracles such as Vijayakanth flying, Sathyaraj being noble and Simbu acting) when I realized the role of media in spreading medical awareness.

Let me kick start this from the early 80s. That was when I was but a toddler and my only memories of TV are a hindi serial (some Mazoomdurr or something) where a guy rapes the same girl every week. But growing up without sufficient movies, I dug into a bit of the old and therefore have at least experienced the tides starting with the 80s and up until present.

Up until and even into the early 80s, the disease to get was Tuberculosis. TB. I mean, if you were a heroine and you could pump some glycerine, there you were. Spewing goo all over the place. But this wasn’t the kind of disease you really connected with. Imagine your hero. He is the invincible guy, an ideal Captain, Don, or at least the paettai good-deed-guy. Now you don’t picture him coughing up blood-shot crap all over the roads inbetween fighting the villains do you? It was probably all OK in the medival days when women chewing veththalai and spitting hot-red shit from their stained lips was sexy. But the coming of sophisticated actors like Malayoormamuttiyaan fame Thyagarajan (Prashanth’s dad) turned the tides, and pretty soon TB lost its stronghold.

The later 80s gave birth to one of the longest lived diseases in Tamil-dom. The ‘Heart Attack’! Now here was a novel non-disgusting disease that doubled up as the finality of lost love. Needless to say, the times saw the rise of non-fighting, non-macho, non-good-looking freckled stars. Mohan and Murali were quick to rise to the occasion. Up until the early 90s, heart attacks and weak hearts were the industry standards. The mother/ father always ended up with weak hearts. Occasionally the hero/ heroine would end up with a heart attack condition where their heart cannot handle even a small ‘adirchi’ (shock?). Therefore the non-heart-attacked would run around for most of the remaining movie singing solo songs about how they cannot confess the love they did not have up until the interval (when doctor removes his glasses).

Of course, tamil-dom eventually woke up to the ‘Gay’ demons. Actors could no longer be weak wuzzes. Murali tried a few semi action roles but it was more laughable, and since we had comedians like Vadivelu and Prashanth coming up the black man heart-attack game line just got extinct. Mohan tried a few shots here and there, with a few more movies of ‘Sing in the rain’, but with Rahman fast coming in, the freckles just did not cooperate.

The interim period that followed was a jumble of trial and error. Amnesia came in close to becoming the next big thing, but Bhagyaraj started making movies about it that people just forgot it existed (wow I got a pun!!).

With amnesia came the idea of taking stuff upto the brain. Neuro science hadn’t taken roots that far yet and so the doctors could crap just about anything and make it seem possible. This was the advent of weird brain diseases. Although a weed of this line still exists in today’s tamil-cinema-dom, the wave did peak at a point. Marked by ‘It is a medical miracle’, ‘Idhukku mela ellam andha aandavan vita vazhi’ and ‘24hrs aprom daan eduvum solla mudiyum’, there was a time when mental disorders became so clichéd that you knew there was a Maari-Amman song that would run parallel to that climax operation.

A little variation in this trend was the internal injuries. Probably the villain pushed the knife a few inches in, or the hero hit his head on a stone, or a lorry accident. There was always a need for blood, which the side hero would get on his motorcycle. Fight. Break the bottles. And Maari-Ammaa song.

The trend would have probably continued if only there was a variation in the doctors and their intonations. But it always had to be Naazar, the psycho-looking psychiatrist, Visu, the doctor who can’t shut up even in the OR, or Janakaraaj, the doctor who always does good to everybody but kills the universe with bad comedy. To make matters worse, Raghuvaran enters with a half doped, half villain sly and gives in his explanation of medical science… In that ‘I Know’ dialect of his!

To get a bit more specific, the period also saw the rise of Cancer. Now cancer is clean- no spewing, no throwing up, and no ghastly lesions. And up until the last breath you lead a normal happy life, albeit those flashes and headaches. Well, at least that’s the tamil Cancer. Just to prove a point, blood cancer was the disease of choice so the hero/ heroine could have a little streak of blood off their nose or voluntarily thrown up. The high point of blood cancer saw the turn of the millennium. Stars like Kamal who could never contract TB or heart attack could safely sport a dribble of blood down their nose.

As with all other diseases, the concept of Cancer had its period. However with the passage of time and falling levels of ignorance the doctors could no longer say ‘It’s a Medical Miracle’. Show me the cure dammit!

The cool wave then got to coma. People get in and out of it all the bloody time. Need some sympathy votes for the hero? Drop him into a coma for a couple of scenes and get him back when he probably has someone calling his name after a very long time. The directorial touch is the affected party (heroine) cries and the tears land onto the hero’s fingers. And they just shake a bit. Next thing you know, they are making out like crazy and the beep-beep machine in the emergency room goes off.

These days tamil-dom seems to be a little low on diseases. I can only remember one movie where anybody at all gets AIDS (obviously the villain). That makes sense too- after all, AIDS is a bad disease and only the Bad guys in tamil-land can get it. Blood-transfusions? Organ transplants? They just don’t exist in tamil-land.

I know I left out kidney failure too. These take a very minor role in tamil-dom that they aren’t worth too much of a mention. Except that kidneys are bad organs (only meant for peeing) and therefore kidney failure doesn’t happen too often in tamil-land either. Especially to fit and fine heroes who can only contract Cancer or Coma.

Disclaimer:

I know only TB is an actual disease in the list above, but tamil-dom science and medicine have risen to such levels that ANYTHING, even children, would now be disease. It is a medical miracle!

Nice Guy at 50

2008-02-04T05:21:41-08:00

I get this a lot. Random people calling me mean, those around constantly advicing me to be nice et al.

Not fair, I say. Im a very nice guy if you will... And what better opportunity to remind the world of my niceties, than the Silver Jubilee of my blog!

Speaking of which, I bring you the glorious 50^th post in this little archipelago of creativity, genius, emotions and a few other words from Karunanidhi’s speech last month.

And before you ask, here are the top ten reasons why I am a really really nice guy, and why you should get to know me better if you are a girl and just click on the ad banners and be away if you are a guy-

#10 The Group Thing: Whenever I make life hell for someone in the group I make sure that everyone else there enjoys it. Goes on to show my everlasting care for greater happiness.

#9 Tip of the Iceberg: Despite the fact that the tip amount you enter on the debit card recipt cannot be debited without a swipe, I always leave a handsome tip, just to make the waiter happy.

#8 Anger Management: I never kill, hurt, insult or in any other way harm any living being. Especially humans. Ever. Unless provoked.

#7 Man of the Masses: If I have to be depressed and take a suicidal drive down the road, I try to sqeeze in as many people as I can into the car and share the adrenalin rush. Most often I tend to bring back the love of life in them.

#6 Monosyllabic Caller: If there is something uninteresting in the other side of the conversation I pull it out to the top and bring it to their notice before they proceed to make a greater fool of themselves.

#5 Psychiatrist Adviser: With the occasional few people who do come to me for advice, I make sure that they don’t go back disappointed and give an understanding nod and the best course of action then on. Even if I don’t understand a shit of what they are talking.

#4 Alcoholics Anonymous: Talking to people when I’m drunk and they are not gives me the satisfaction of them assuming that all I say is the truth and nothing but the truth and thus ultimately feeling happy about it. If you are hearing what you want to hear or even what you like, Im just not drunk enough.

#3 Rubbing Salt: Everytime I meet someone who has done something to ever feel guit or shame that I know of, I carefully remind them about it and give them a pleasant cruise of nostalgia.

#2 The Path Finder: I take it a sense of responsibility in giving clear directions to the directionless many that stop by me on the roads. In fact I take this so far as to give them a clear description even when I don’t have a clue.

#1 Call back: Not a lot of people would really be this nice, but I always make it a point to give the girl a call after some intimacy. Or at least a message. Most often after. Usually. Sometimes…

That must do it. At least 10 awesome reasons to prove I’m probably one of the few nice guys left on this planet.

Oh, and now for a vote of thanks.

At this time of the glorious 50, I take a moment to thank all those who have made this possible. I thank the jobless IT guys who despite recessions and downsizing continue to rummage around blogs and drop inconsequential comments.

I would also like to thank my critics for… umm… Actually no. I wouldn’t like to thank you. The comments continue to get moderated, I read all your comments and I don’t care if you have cracks on your butt and therefore find my posts offensive.

I would further like to thank all those who like smokes and chai. Not much direct correlation, but thank them nevertheless.

Last but not the least, I would like to thank the millions of fellow humans who I do not know and therefore don’t have to care about not thanking.

Thank you all. As a “50” treat you could click on any of the many ad banners around my site. Please. I’m very poor and the recession got to me!

My Gran caused all these Rapes

2008-02-04T05:22:06-08:00

A quick run around- the Mumbai molestation… The Kerala gilmaans… The Chennai silmishamms…

Why are women being subject to so many more tortures than they had to endure even a few years earlier? I read a news cast that says that the women are to blame for wearing such revealing clothes and inviting trouble upon themselves. So much so, a rape victim is actually the instigator and therefore the cause of the incident.

Kudos there. That actually solves a major law and order problem. All cases now can be directly attributed to the flaw of the victim. That dude there snatched your chain because you were showing it out and therefore instigated him to it. The cheat manipulated you only because you were stupid enough. The assassin shot Benazir only because she poked her head out of the sunroof. Arrest the victims!

But lets take an honest ride and see where this stems from. A little over four decades back in the generation of my gran, and continuing up until less than ten years ago, the most massive extermination of women in known history took birth in our country. Genocide starting with kalli-paal-kelavis and peaking with scientific innovation of ultrasound and abortions, at least before the government woke up to it. The result? A major tip in the male-female ratio…

Now, that means there no longer exists one woman for every man. So much for divine love and soul mates. It also means that most of you male readers hawking this post right now would live up to a ripe old age in undisputed singularity. A few could become content Buddhas, delving into the greater pleasures of philosophy, science and alcohol. Some could turn the availability scenarios in sexual preference and look for similarities in partners. But most of the dejected masculine harboring jealously, pride and beer would wreak havoc to the few that do hold their prize damsels. And that, my readers, is exactly what has been filling our papers the past few months.

Without much ado, lets get into the subject of wider interest and personal expertise… Given that the few remaining women are getting more adept and competitive, and based on the logic that the greater mass still believes that the man should be higher up the social/economic/education ladder than the woman, that makes more men who fall through on the competition to go single.

Moreover given the fact that the little ray of hope for the lower rungs are still awed by the 'mora-mama' syndrome, that makes more relative-less men die relative -less!

As a final straw, based on the psyche that modern women would rather find themselves in association with an already wedded/ widowed/ divorced/ available man who matches their subjective criteria despite his abjectly not-so-single status pushes the free radical even lower.

If bad did not get to worse already, post modern women sentiments (read feminist) leads to a greater number of happy spinsters and like-like bonds in the woman fraternity, which creates a bigger hole on the deficit.

Pretty soon the demand -supply gap is going to catch on... With more single men, the future generation would either have to do with a drastic reduction in the number of women or have a system of polyandry.

Assuming that the demand side pressure wins the battle (a gal-guy many-to-one relationship), a case of polyandry would ensure multiple men wedded to a single woman. Emotions apart, this would rock the stability of the human species since the gene pool of 'n' men would require minimally 'n' gestation periods.

If the supply side wins the battle (a gal-guy one-on-one… not that you pervert), and women have their say, we could expect a gradual weeding out of the genes of men who do not fall on the minimal social ladder of women. Given the current encouragement for more women to rise up the steep, that is saying something. Two generations down we would then only find the upper middle class and the BPL peoples (since they still inbreed and so don't get wiped out).

Either way we can hope to see women holding a powerful position on the future of the species and men shadowed to a point where they need to fight to pass on their genes...

And all this because a half century back my Gran chose to have a son!

A happening year if you will...

2008-02-04T05:22:58-08:00

New Years have never been especially nice to me. My early childhood new years consisted of almost night long celebration at the only club my dad assumed worthy enough. That translated to a fun filled seven to eleven evening with hundreds of middle aged men and women carrying either toddlers or septuagenarians on their backs, playing lotto for stakes that included electic pressure cookers and non-stick cookware, and dancing to MAASHILAA UNMAIKAADALEEE…

Starting my high school years, I carefully avoided these trips (they are now extinct altogether) by planning alternatives with friends. In lieu of further length addition to the post, let me just put in quick pointers as to the yearly celebration patterns since.

2000-2001: Had a tough time deciding where to go. Finally settled at Qwicky’s G.N.Chetty Road until we were kicked out at 11. Had a new year countdown on my watch right outside Bhuvi’s house.

2001-2002: Again got confused with the many alternatives we had and singled it to spending the night at the beach. Got caught by the cops near Ashok Nagar for not having a license and ended up spending the midnight wagering the cop to let us out for the only fifty we had.

2002-2003: Got drunk at some galeej wine shop.

2003-2004: Class Tour at Kodai. Invested in a huge cake that was truly rock solid. So much so one of the guys ended up with a bleeding forehead…

2004-2005: Got drunk at the same galeej wine shop. Only it was now TASMAC.

2005-2006: Again indecisiveness ruled us to roam the streets of Chennai. Celebrated midnight at a petrol bunk in Nungambakkam.

2006-2007: Now that we were rich and all, we decided to get a taste of aristocracy, no matter how expensive and went to Courtyard Marriot. Two grand a night was a tad bit too much and we went to a cheaper place and had some good wine (WINE! The ends we go to for aristocracy!)

Back to the story now.

This year, we decided that we had waited far too long. After all, we were all well payed, old enough and terribly short of opportunities to throw our hard earned money on a dead end task. We looked around, singled on a moderately expensive disc and got our feet together. Clothes laid out, shoes, groomed hair, enough fuel in the car, and a sober friend tagging along so he could drive my car back home.

We go in at ten. My friend comes to hear that the booze goes on till 4 am. That is good enough to keep my juice flowing. We take it slow, walk around, observe the guys trying to manage their chicks who got high on round one. We take our drinks, get the grab… The music sucks but at least it isn’t just the FM playing in my car!

Its 11.20 pm. Im waiting for the first real count down, with real people… Im looking at the apparently hep and the obviously galeej and trying to match the responses when all the lights go off…

I guess you must have read the papers. The dance floor gave way at Savera. From my stance just a few meters away from the broken wood and splinters, I realized the horror the moment carried. The booze would now get closed down.

In a moment of despair, the faculty that sees prejudice, malice and reason breaks down. I, along with most others there pulled as many as we could to safety. I along with many others then promptly rushed to the beverage counter to get a couple more drinks before the inevitable happened.

At the strike of midnight, at least four people had been loaded into ambulances. At the strike of midnight at least five bottles were forced out from the holdings by the boisterous revelers. At the stike of midnight my friends and I sang an ancient poem we had been taught in pre KG and mourned the accident.

I learnt a couple of interesting things standing in the thick of the accident incident. For one, I realized the inherent flaws in communism and group tendency when the cycle-gap squadron of the mob decided to break the pots outside the hotel to express their anguish. I also witnessed the greater truth of human sentiments when the same group that had earlier reprimanded me for my insensitive nature in witnessing the scene later walked out with a bottle in hand under the auspices of the chaos.

Overall, it was a pretty passable new year merely in terms of experience and excitement. I heard one of the guys died that night. I’m really sorry about the anticlimax. Let his soul rest in peace.

As an epilogue, my car tire blew up on the way back. Thankfully I did not realize this until I had reached home.

Happy 2008 everybody. At least try not to kill yourselves.

PS: We got the money back! Free booze for what its worth!

Who's the Daddy? Conspiracy Theories...

2007-12-28T01:33:34-08:00

Conspiracy theories are only all too common to stem from any public happening- most often tragic ones at that. And thus, I am sure, mine and the thousands of millions to follow over the next few weeks would only hardly touch the tip of the ice berg of an issue at hand.

Now lets start with the fundamentals. Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated. Nothing out of the ordinary in a country where coups, instability, conspiracies and fundamentalism are but ordinary. And already we can see fingers pointing at every direction possible. Now without a stronger premise, lets just get into the superficial reasoning behind such an arrogant episode.

Of course, contender number one would be the good General. His craze for power and love of the seat need no further extrapolation. And Bhutto was, after all, his primary opponent at that. But hold on a second. Lets drill a little deeper.

If there is anything General Mushraff has ever proven, he is not an idiot. A little complacent and arrogant perhaps, but definitely not an idiot. The tirade of sympathy and PPPs and PML(N)'s clear steer on the tide to follow now is obvious. Now then why would someone as wise with the workings of the state resort to such, as to taint his chances and give such a boost to his opponents? Especially when his rigging and manipulation techniques are too well known?

The other contender is any one of the millions of terrorists abounding the country within and without. Lets sit in the shoes of one of these guys. Democracy, coups or apparent democracy, these guys have always gotten their booze. Up until the current president joined hands with the evil west and started exterminating their forces by the dozen. Madrasas closing, border forces spiced up, evil western thoughts and ideas infused, and even the unforgivable sin of joint exercises with the agnostic Indians. A new government would mean new policies and perhaps a return to the glorious life with more Madrasas and more idiosyncrasies. Who would they then rather have off? The dictator bringing in evil thoughts, or a woman who has proven track records of corruption and failure running in the family?

By the simple lack of motive, I am of the opinion that Bhutto’s death reaches far wider than superficial vendetta or ‘get-her-out-of-the-picture’ processes. Now that I have come so far into the subject, let me go further into my conspiracy theory.

Who stands to actually gain, monetarily, emotionally or in political mileage through her death? Who actually benefits by not just getting her out of the picture, but getting her out with such a popular and public ousting?

Now lets take the picture of another ex-leader. Simple laws of ego state that such a person, united or otherwise, could never really play second fiddle. Moreover, trends and statistics say that this person in question would need a miraculous wave of emotion amongst the public to gain any hold even otherwise. I guess it would make perfect logical sense to fabricate an assassination of the popular darling of the masses, throw the blame on the popular villain and sing along in the heat this generates. Of course, to avoid trace backs I would have to intelligently stage attacks and assassination plots aimed at myself that I would miraculously escape. Or even better, knock a couple of useless supporters and turn to game to my side.

On December 27, in a CNN interview just hours after the assassination of Ms Bhutto, Sharif said:

“

This is not a sad day. This is the darkest and gloomiest day in the history of our country.

”

Amidst the shock of the death of former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto Mr Sharif has announced that he will boycott the January 8 elections and has called for President Pervez Musharraf to resign due to the lack of security leading up to Benazir Bhutto's death. Sharif rushed to the hospital where she died, comforted her supporters and sat next to her body. Sharif called Bhutto his sister and vowed to avenge her death.[1]

Shortly after the murder of Benazir Bhutto, Xinhua News Agency reported that four of Sharif's party workers had been shot dead at Karal Chowk in an attack on a procession to meet him. Although the gunmen were described as "unidentified", Nawaz Sharif accused Musharraf supporters PML(Q).

[Excerpt Source Wikipedia]

Standard Disclaimers:

If you are in Pakistan, have a Pakistani IP or the likes, I do not exist.
If you are, in any way, associated with politics or the likes, and this post does not appeal to you, my ID has been hacked and this isn't me writing in.
If you are an assassin, a trained fighter, sniper or the likes, I appeal to your moral sense of right. Im retarded and it is improper to kill one in not so fair a mind.
Im drunk.
I do not exist.
This is not my IP.
I can make a disclaimer longer than the post.
Go away.

First Love... Forever

2007-12-27T01:24:36-08:00

Every word ever spoken, every sight seen, every thought that leaps is burnt deep and forever in the dark memory lanes. The mind never forgets. Always stocks them deep in the closets, always ready to pounce.

They tell me its better to have loved and lost. The truth is, once in love, it never dies. The sweet taste of the first love, those days where you are not-so-sure of your footing. The times before being infected with the ego, sly and dignity… The innocence of Reena…

I don’t talk about her too often. In fact, its been over six years since I spoke about her at all. It really feels dumb to talk about how serious I was about a girl when I was in eighth grade!

That was not when I first saw her. We were in the same school, went to the same club, and even had a couple of common friends. But it never struck me that way before. Before my friends imagined us together in an attempt to humor themselves. Before I chose to. Before I realized what was to be.

She was perched high up the ladder of sophistication. I was underground. I should say I took to her as a competitive inspiration. The movies I saw were of no greater help. As the protagonist, I HAD to better my heroine in everything. I tried, and consequently succeeded to quite a bit.

In all that time- a period of four years, I tried various hats- the angry guy, the kind hearted, the good kid, the evil villain… Never even caught a breeze. I tried tricks and stunts that I wouldn’t even recommend to a retard.

In the final year of high school, we got closer than we ever were. I loved everything about her. I doubt if ever I had a perfect girl painted in my mind- I would have sung for a girl with a skin as soft as Reena, a golden radiance that breathed and lived by its own; hair as silky, a bouncy curl, dancing on the shoulders; voice that could throw you into a haven of bliss; anger that could burn right through.

Eventually I got to where I wanted. Wars, battles, cheap shots, wins and falls. I was elected the leader of the entire school, and all I cared for was my Reena.

I don’t know if what I had for her was love. I had never loved before, and the wait had been for far too long that I never realized it until long after it had gone. But I know it was pure. It was innocent in that all I wanted was Reena. Sit by her side as we enjoyed the setting sun, waves lapping our feet. I have never felt that since. I have never felt that joy beyond touch or words- the joy in just the thought of her presence, sitting next to me. Letting the scent of her beauty fill my senses. The joy that Reena gave me…

She was never on the slim side. But she carried the air of confidence and beauty that made it quite impossible to not notice. I loved every moment I spent with her. And now I was up the ladder. And yet it took me a few weeks cajoling to muster the courage.

Im up the ladder… I no longer fear my stance or equality. In fact, I see no reason why I should even be apprehensive. I’ve waited enough. Just ask her out!

She said no.

Im a bad loser… Love is as personal as it gets, and I took it personal. It was just her ego, I told myself. It was easy to hide my feeling over a blanket of blame. I needed a vent, and who better than the cause. Love turned to hate over night.

She forgave me. And I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t accept the truth that she was still the better person.

I loved her attitude. I loved her aggression. I loved that “cho-chweet” dialect. I loved her for her confidence. If she had just said yes, I would have always had to fear my position of being her equal. The rivalry and power that the love had given me could have just as easily manifested as jealousy.

She said no.

I never really apologized, but I don’t think she ever wanted one. She never gave me an explanation. I couldn’t have taken that anyway. I just loved her, from far away- a distance I created for better or worse. I knew I loved her. And I knew there was nothing either of us could do about it. I just loved.

And yet, she said no.

And I love her for that. As I always will. Futile as it might be, it still is my thoughts… My Love… My Reena... My Laila...

Stupid 2.0

2007-12-21T05:46:58-08:00

There are some stupid things on the net. And then there are GROSSLY stupid things.

Its not that this is the worst scam (worse still are around), nor that it targets a soft spot in love sick, desperate youngsters. The really shocking part is that it goes against one of the basic principles I believe in.

I mean, how could someone with enough intelligence to turn on a computer, open a browser and even assimilate a string of characters to formulate a coherent sentence be expected to act so stupid as to pay up for something like this?

And then again, the contrary breaks my faith that if someone trusts something enough to host it on a website, store et al, it must have seen at least sparing success.

In which case there could be a minor fabric of truth attached. Which, if possible, would mean spirits can be summoned by magic. And that makes the jostling around at the pearly gates of TASMAC (galeej wine shops in my city) irrelevant.

Oh and just to make you toggle less between the links, let me give you a fair, unbiased shot:

The magic lady would need a few essentials here- your name, your attempt's name, both your birth dates and here's the cream- three pubic hair, cut not plucked.
Ada paavigala... Bond 'Shaken not stirred' solra maadri solreengale da!

Next you pay in 690 USD so the witch lady can get her quarter and soda mixing. Now that the spirit has been invoked, she gives it a few gifts such as chips and ooruka so the mubbu does not cause the invoked spirits to make an early exit.

That done she makes the drunken call to the party (your attempt) and puts some international mokkai. I don't know whether this call has to be payed by you directly or is part of the 690 package.

Now we all know that the third-party mubbu call have a decently high hit rate. That done she will send you a talisman to remind you what an international maanga you've been.

PS: Sorry for the higher level of tamilisized words. Theres a glossary at the end but it only gets you as far as the context goes.

PPS: This post sure must have witch aunty de-spirited. But good for me, I'm guarded against spells... Thanks to this.

Glossary
TASMAC: Wine Shop
Galeej: Local/ Dirty/ Waack
Oorka: Pickle. Especially Garlic flavored ones
Mubbu: High
Attempt: The girl/guy one is trying for. Success results in park bench kind of deiveega lauve
Maanga: Mango

Disclaimer: I originally planned to write in an outburst against the sugarcupid site but this was a lot more stupid.

Being Me...

2007-12-17T04:30:16-08:00

There lived one or two as intelligent, and now there's just me! And for that Im called an egotist!!

I don't see the big deal in not being one either. In effect I care about myself and am proud of that. In fact I'd even take it further and advice as many as I can chance to convert as well.

Talk about friendship and how you give your life and how the undies you share creates a divine link up of grime and fermented crap...
Talk about the deiveega Lauve you hold, and how she is all that matters to you. Tell me that her life and happiness is more important to you than yours. Go on about how your life would cease to exist in her void.

It all finally comes down to YOU. The sacrifices you do are for you goddammit. So don't throw the dust and push us realists into a realm of false act and belief. You tell me you were up at five to whip that breakfast? And spent big money on all the romance 'charm' artifacts? A week of headaches at night from her and you aren't going to be looking for that balm are you?

Phone calls through the day and night... Interspersed by messages every ten seconds. Get a job you a**h*** (thats ssole in the * areas. in that order).

Oh and did I forget? Don't cry to me when it bombs on your face. Im not going to sympathize for the good money you could've spent boozing with me but just didn't. Oh, and don't wrinkle my good sleeve crying on my shoulders. I care about me, and Im proud of it.

Try to respect yourself dammit. Just try. You could well fail, and if you do, swallow your towels and die.

On a lighter vein, came across a really good quote that more or less describes me now:

“I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.”
Oscar Wilde

Dogs don't Piss me off

2007-12-11T02:20:04-08:00

Have you ever noticed a dog relieving its sub level pressures? On first glance it is kind of unnerving to think about smelling, tasting and rubbing on the surface before you open it to your golden gleams. Not for Stinky Poo, the white dog just out of office (name changed cos the damn thing responds to ANY sound!)

To you and me its just getting rid of some extra fluids and dissolved ammonia. But to the dogs that’s territorial marking. Apparently, dogs use their bowels as weapons limiting boundaries. Still pretty primitive, you might be tempted to say. But while we, as humans, resort to bullets and fire and electric fences and nukes killing, murdering and butchering our own race look at the simplicity of the lower species. URINE!

Now just take a moment to get your critique hats off and get into Stinky Poo’s shoes… Or the lack thereof…

Imagine a world where we limit our boundaries with our liquids. Investing on land? Don’t waste time on sale deeds and NOCs. If it doesn’t smell of ammonia already, its all yours for the taking. Lets even go a step further. There won’t be any more disputed territories. No destructive wars. Pak says J and K belongs there, we say its here and Kashmiris say they’re independent. Fastest pisser first!

And wars! That’ll be an entirely new ball game (pun? Not really). Now Bush just has to fill in ballistic missiles with huge amounts of collective excreta payload. Its raining, Saddam! Defense will now consist of massive umbrellas and tents. Defense research would probe on faster spread, more invasive urine. A whole new arena to military advancement… The only problem is that falling motivation levels would lead to more and more soldiers getting pissed off with the government. But that’s a minor glitch…

Another amazing effect of such a view point would be the economic impact. Since more people would need to take a leak more often and in greater quantities, beer is going to become a sought after commodity. And public toilets can no longer be public- it’s a property of the last pisser. Therefore I can envision government pissifiers salaried to take a leak and reclaim the property after every user. That means more employment opportunities on the unskilled segment (it does require a certain skill, though).

Such amazing technology that would cause zero war mortality, remove paper work from business processes and reduce unemployment… And I can already tell you- its going to get scorned off like my million other brain waves!!!

btw: heres a picture of Stinky Poo and his latest land deed

Markiv TAG Naraksahb

2007-11-29T23:24:40-08:00

Yet another tag... Not a highly imaginative one at that though- I prefer the types that throw in a question and let us manipulate that with randomized interpretations.

Now this one is apparently called the middle name tag. Since its the typing that does all the work I wish there was a tag for the Finger with a similar name....

I don't think Mayth really wanted to read a literary genius here- as much as just checking for a pulse. Fair enough- Id do that too... More living known bloggers translates to more comments and more traffic. The trouble is NONE of you guys EVER care to even ACCIDENTALLY click on any of those MILLION colorful rectangular boxes that could one day make me a billionaire.

Ok that is an exaggeration. I do have a twenty dollar vapor hanging on the adsense. Thanks guys- now Im only short of $999999980!

Back to the tag- Im supposed to relate each alphanumeric in my middle name to me.... other than the fact that it is my middle name which is part of me.

Don't have a mid name? Now worries- assign one for yourself. Can't think of a word there? No issues again- just go ahead and create one. And drop a mail to webster@randomnewwords.com so he can include it in his next edition.

The rules of the tag are:
1. The rules must be mentioned in the beginning of the tag.
Vatta RULE I say... Law number one is that law number 2 is a law...

2. You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
Now thats saying something. What if I dont have a middle name I already like? Can I go ahead and first like a name, then assign it? What if I have a name and I dont like it? Is this extra privilege reservation for the backward-non middle name makkals?

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Torture knows many faces

Ok. I don't have a middle name. Yet.
Actually I have far too many people assigned ones, but filing that here would make websense ban my site for most of you who see thiruttu-blog on oc-office-internet.

Or you could consider Mark, The Second- Mark IV
where Mark would be the first name, Mark would be the last name, IV would be a valid suffix and The Second would be the middle name.

Does 'The' come down as a valid middle name?

Here goes the TAG:

S for Slick: In my younger days when lowly ignorant mortals addressed me as Vik, Slick Vik was kind of popular. I still don't really remember the correlation- except for the phonetic rhyme. I still don't really understand the significance- given the word Slick comes to my mind as an Oil Slick

E for esophagus: Thats a lot like the marketer that I am- a thin tube that takes in unprocessed good, adds a bit here, takes a bit off there, and delivers crap at the other end, in the process driving the entire machinery. Moreover it sounds like an amazing ancient roman name- Maximus, Darius.... Thinking of which- I know these guys were ancient but notice the similarities in naming between Leonardus and Tyrannosaurus!

C for Conbobulated: Random

O for Oh Shit: I should have taken an easier middle name

N for Not really: Am almost done here

D for DONE: Im KING

Well done just to prove Im not dead... yet...
But honestly, either my thinking part has taken a hike or this tag is really torture...
Either way, I wouldn't want to inflict such injury upon any of my good blog friends. Most of them at least.
Well- anyone who gets inspired here please feel free to carry the torch forward.
Except Santosh- Id really like to see you drain your thoughts on this!

Mayth- thanks again for your noble gesture. I hope you go to heaven and have a beautiful afterlife. You're dead if I can find you now!

Infinite Infancy.... Happy Birthday to me...

2007-11-13T03:31:32-08:00

Im usually against merely accounting for one’s existence in one’s blog. Being born is truly an amazing feeling. I cannot imagine my life, if only I had not been born. Therefore my birthdays symbolize the pinnacle of achievement and duly deserve celebration.

However, its hard to find your environ adjust to these phenomena. I walk into the office, phone stuck to my ear, and get ready for the monotony I make money for. And in the place where my sparkling cubicle must have been, I find this- laptop et al...

A little running around to discover where my poor little electronics lay and finally I got it within my bounds. The key here is I was most amazed by my collegues’ trust in me- for starters, the planners were hitting dry wall till this morning when the idea to make my cube an extension of the dump came to their heads. The obvious trust that I would never cross the 10.30-11 barrier and knock in even a second earlier was truly overwhelming. More importantly, all the accumulated junk and the obvious bad stares were braved by them to gain a single moments’ satisfaction of my surprise. Had I bunked the day, they would have had to put in extra efforts to clear the mess up and answer weird stares as lesser mortals crossed the path. Yet their trust that I would turn up in any situation that could get me embarrassed is awe inspiring. This should stand testimony to the fact!

(the board reads "Go Home Vik!". Go figure...)

Anyway, I ended up clearing my cubicle, getting rid of all that junk and making the place inhabitable again. If it were me arranging this invitation to someone else, I would have put in a little decomposing vegetable waste to make sure the entire cabin has to be fumigated before its fit to live in. But well, I guess there could be a slight possibility that the planners secretly wanted me to get back to work soon enough.

The worst part about birthdays, however, is that people assume that being as old as I am (the years must be catching on) birthdays shouldn’t have the significance they had a decade back. I noted fewer calls this year than the last three put together. And all from either friends whom I personally reminded to call me or those who still assume I’d turn 18 this year.

I asked my mom about the wonders I performed as an infant. Apparently my mom was advised by a friend to abort her second kid during the third month of pregnancy. My mom chose to ignore her reasoning- a decision she probably still regrets. I also inquired about the three wise men who knocked at our doors to tell my mom of the god-send that was to be born. She only remembers a Raa-Pichakaaran (night beggar). We were living pretty nomadic, shifting houses every few years, so the mix up is justifiable.

The day I was born is however truly like the hero intro part of a classic action movie (read Captain)… Power failure through the city, torrential rains and storms, dingy hospital… I also googled to check if the stars were in any spectacular arrangement that night. I guess the clouds obscured them from vision.

So on, I have succeeded in proving that I am a wonder boy, born to save the world from something. Its been two decades and three years since, and I’m still waiting to figure out what!

Campus Tour....

2007-10-26T00:00:11-07:00

Most of the film industry in the subcontinent, especially the ones down south, seems obsessed with colleges and the fun life it carries. Learning the essence of life from movies and video games, I braved my better foot forward into engineering with hopes of dudes in bikes, gorgeous women that had been jealously guarded from our childhood eyes to enhance the joy of first sight at adolescence. I imagined gangs lined up against walls specially constructed for that purpose, enjoying the little pleasures of life. I dreamed of parties through the nights, the fights and the fun.

My college did not have the trees I thought it would. It was hot, but what else could I expect out of Chennai. The sand was red. For a moment I thought we had gone a bit off track and landed in the Thar dessert, and looked for camels. When all I saw was a couple of water buffaloes I was convinced of the presence of some far away puddle and concluded I was still in the coastal town I intended to be in. That’s when I saw the board that said ‘Pondicherry- 170 kms’. I was technically in a different city… Almost bordering the state I had so happily grown up in. In fact, if this had been the pre-independence times I would technically be on the Anglo-French borders… Should I culturally adapt to the differences? Would the guys at the canteen say ‘Bon Appetite’? And whatever would happen if a full blown similar to the hundred years war rolled in? Would I be stuck between the warring factions? Would Joan request me to join her ranks? I had pledged the next four years of my existence to this elite grad school and that would be were my loyalty would lie…

Studying in one of the top institutes isn’t a lot of fun. Remember the nerds you pulled digs at back in school? Now they are back in droves, and that’s all there is. If there is one thing worse than having to sit next to a drooling idiot, its having to sit in the midst of forty odd drooling idiots. Eight hours a day. Thirty days a month. Six months a semester. For the whole of eight semesters.

The break came, as they always do. As was customary since my school days, I went out to clear the buffer from my output system and refill some inputs for sustenance. I walk back in, and everybody is already on their seats. Studying! I turn around hoping to find some older being controlling the masses and find none. Apparently the class decided to make good use of the limited time before them. After all a mere 4 years consisting of 2 semesters each isn’t quite a lifetime. Oh, and did I mention- this was the FIRST DAY OF COLLEGE!

Yes, now I’m done with that part of education and have even let a few years flow by. But the terror of the moment still grips me tight. And the next time I see Murali (ever collegiate Tamil star of Idhayam fame), I’m planning to pay his capitation and force him to try engineering once before disillusioning youth.

How to woo a lady part 2

2008-02-04T05:25:28-08:00

- Bowling a maiden over....

The cricket fever is running high again. You know its happening every time kids choose to play with pads and crushed paper balls, when all small talk gets skillfully crafted towards Steve Wazzisname's glorious whatever against whoever, whenever... But you might as well know its taken over when you see a greater crowd outside Vivek and Co than near the closest tea shop...

Cricket, as most would willingly testify, is not just a game of skill, dexterity or predictability. Especially in our country where it is neither. With a billion hearts tied close and dear, cricket often passes as the romantic passion of the masses.

Being as far away from the sports grounds in school as logic would permit enabled me to be highly ignorant of the daily nuances of the holy eleven. After all, a stick trying to defend three other sticks from a sphere is not something I would tax my intellect with.

The greater realities of life came to the fore only much later. Nerds and geeks suddenly lost the battle against the jocks. My more ‘sportive’ friends woke up to the admiration of beautiful damsels in distress. If they were your Sachins and Laras I would have gladly taken the punch in good humor. Sadly the few I talk about here could not swallow the surge of flash lights.

Being chivalrous sportsmen, our heroes in the making assumed life ‘made’ with a good century to back them up and a gorgeous classmate to cheer. Unfortunately, women, being what they are, eventually got bored of sitting in the heat all day only to be welcomed by a sweaty, arrogant boyfriend. Now, our guys may massacre speed-of-light balls but the powerful arguments of a woman, without premise, statistics or data to back a conclusion requires a stronger mind. The naive stars on the field could not rise to such concentrated levels of idiosyncrasy and started getting confused about where to defend their stick and where to stick their defenses.

It was at least a couple more years before the tides began to shift back to us, but the experience taught me an important life-lesson: You may bowl a maiden over, but the game is over if you can’t play a silly point.

Elements of Truth.... Reality TV

2007-10-10T00:32:05-07:00

When you think TV reality shows are made up mock shows, print and news media are purely commercial ventures and truth is dead and buried, here comes the one show that strikes the chord.

There are only two aspects to any TV show that I can really appreciate- the element of truth they bring to the fore and the amount of humor and entertainment they provide. Indeed, there was a once beautiful time when this post could have spoken about American Idol and Fresh Price of Bel Air and the greater pleasures of Englisss padams and vella kaare ponninga (white hot chicks)… Thanks to CAS (set-top box stuff), my entertainment providers had been reduced to what comes free…

To be good to these saviors, the freebies did carry their share of humor. Sun TV came to the rescue, giving us some quality humor in the form of more mega serials which all dedicatedly used the same script et al as the mother of all mega serials- daughter in law, rich woman, revenge, angry woman (I told you Amithab must never have quit the angry MAN image… see what’s come of the vacancy now!).

However, Vijay TV remained the one channel that refused to allow such low issues such as TRP and entertainment affect its vision. While other channels carried on with the tradition of playing Indian and Baasha on Diwali for the 18000^th time, Vijay stood apart by telecasting Malayoor Mammutiyaan’s (navarathna Prashanth’s dad) tour of Malaysia. In fact until recently they managed to keep their channel so boring that one would ensure not to browse through even during Ad breaks on the other channels.

Eventually, Vijay understood that some people actually happened to float through it when their TV was getting auto-tuned. This habit damaging their primary objective of being the channel that no one should see, the geniuses running the machinery decided to throw in some funny English series. Except that they were no longer in English… Or funny... With careful selection of the worst possible voice-overs, viola! They had successfully converted a comedy kid series to a boring droning senseless show that ensures that kids commit suicide and adults become retarded.

Unfortunately, a few months back there was probably some change in the top brass. Coinciding perfectly with the time Sun TV got drained of copying the same story line and started reusing the already run episodes under a different name, Vijay TV roped in some actually GOOD shows. Like a few reality shows, quizzes, actually funny comedy shows, and shifting Madan’s Thirai Paarvai to the prime time of the dead and hopeless.

Coming back to where I started, this Sunday was a tide of difference to the world of television media. Jodi no1, initiated as a dance show that bordered between sad and disgusting, took a drastic change into wholesome entertainment. Pritviraj (who looks like a druggie already) was apparently criticized by Simbu (one of the judges). And he shot back. Im not really going to go on about what happened. Im waiting for a good You Tube link of that show.

The best part was Simbu getting real emotional. He walks out of the studio, with an entire army running behind him with pleas like “Simbu, pogadeenga… Simbu, en pullai ku badil sollitu ponge”, and all that. Any college guy would know that putting scene would mean eventually eating one’s hat. However, since our star did not sufficiently get past single digits in educational expertise, it wouldn’t be fair to expect knowledge in these spheres.

Coming back, the host delivered some powerful statements- “Simbu, neega jury, Simbu. Neenga enna venum naalum sollalaam”. Manasu kulle ‘I Love You’ solluvan nu nenaipu pole irukku.

If you are a connoisseur of good tamil cinema you would know the official ‘Karithu Squad’. These are the ‘publics’ who just throw random statements to show that the hero has mass support. Think the girl in Thamizan who says “Enna saar idhu, oruthare arrest pannanum na warrant venum, illati charge sheet podanum”. Think the group in Indian, Mudhalvan, Sivaji, Ramana… These are the ‘Karithu Squad’- the public opinion. Now Vijay TV seems to have invested in this group, and wisely I should say. The audience discusses about how Simbu is infallible, and the judge is God. Chief Justice ketta siripparu.

But the best part of the show was when SImbu got back (after full meals of Hat) and took the mike. “Ennakku Nadikka Theriyaadhu Sir”.

Adhu engalukku Vallavan paarthe pove therinjiduchu sir!

PS: Im still looking for the guy who came here looking for this

[EDITED]
Thanks Santhosh for giving me the You Tube Link. Anaivarum paarthu magizhingal

How to woo a lady part 1

2008-02-04T05:25:28-08:00

- an idiot’s guide to understanding women

Having a girl friend is, in a lot of ways, like bungee jumping. Everyone thinks its super cool, but when you are at it all you want is to get out alive. That said, it is rather highly unfortunate that as the cultural catalysts for over half a century now, Bollywood has given our masses a difficult benchmark to follow. Single, aggressive and angry Amithabs have silently been replaced with talkative, flirting and charming Shah Rukhs. And overnight the aloof silent singledom has become a symbol of pity.

But fear not readers, for in just a few lines that follow you will have the key to understanding a woman’s head, realize her wants and understand her thoughts. And that exact moment you would wish you never payed for this internet connection that has, with this post, pushed you into a lifelong contemplation bordering suicide, penance and lunacy.

But since you have come so far, let me give you a talisman on how relationships work. If you have ever wondered why the woman of your dreams looks instead at that rugged looking no-good rowdy down the street, you are already on the right track.

Women are pre-programmed with an intrinsic want to do good. Over that is an impregnable layer of an infallible ethical system. Crafted across this are the two most vital components of the woman’s brain- the screamer and the road-decomprehender. With so many interrelated components, each with its share of complexity, it is no wonder that the system as a whole comes up with just a couple of minor glitches. Therefore the woman ideally assumes it her divine task to turn the world around. She would complain about the use of plastics as she bites off that chocolate, use the more expensive and labor intensive recycled paper, scream at errant drivers on roads, set a model to prevent sunburn by dressing up Taliban style, and save all her used tissues and wrappers so as to help make a greener planet. Useless facts such as nuclear treaties, war, global warming or that recycled paper uses more in chemicals and raw materials than new paper hardly ever matter to her.

Now it is this inherent need to cleanse the society of evils that draws her to villains and axe murderers. A woman thinks it is her responsibility to purify her ‘victim’ by love. A delirious state governed by states of change and credit cards.

It is at this part of the relationship that the boyfriend quits smoking, drinking, flirting, eating, riding and breathing, while the girl on her part quits calling and going out with him. A woman needs a challenge. She needs something to change. Once the guy becomes perfect, her challenge is over. Some women may look for more things to change- the dressing styles or eating habits. And the ideal woman can constantly complain and feed her survival. The few that do not strictly fall into this median category move to greater villains to satiate their smarten attire. Of course, an intelligent woman may accept the lack of change as the greater truth in life and live with contentment, showering happiness across all she sees. But since every reader here knows that an intelligent woman is a biological anomaly, I suggest you shoot her thrice on the head if you ever encounter one.

The Warrior King

2007-09-24T06:49:10-07:00

Theesh, one of my friends from college, has come up with this amazing online game. I'm trying to sound as unbiased as I can, but the game is just simply amazing. Very simple to play, intelligent, and never ending. All the ingredients to fill the life of my kind of random-surfers-looking-for-some-entertainment folks.
For one, I am not too much of a gamer. Ever since I broke my arrow keys playing NFS and Roadrash (ok, I'm old!) I have been maintaining a safe distance from these evils. And a purely strategic game that relies more on planned precision than multiple ramming on the keyboard (read MK4) has only been a dream so far.
The Warrior King truly lives to this expectation. In fact I am really surprised with the professional UI and work path these guys have figured!
The game opens with you naming yourself as 'King' of some random place, with a fixed amount of dough, food and people. As in most games, all these guys are born farmers. I was hoping to consecutively train these people to anything, but their educational background only lets them get admission into some B school and become Traders. Or maybe thats how it starts. Would have to get it cleared by Theesh.

The cool part is the planned build up of an army, where you hand pick not only the different cadres with archers, cavalry and infantry, but have to separately supply them with their weaponry as well. I don't know if the ranks of soldiers and their weapons get researched and upgraded as one scales up in the game, but if it does it would be even cooler. Theesh has always been inspired by spying and espionage so it doesn't surprise me that he has given in-depth importance to Surveillance and Intelligence.
The only part that I'm not really too happy about is the Battles. I think there is some internal program that makes me consistently loose. I mean, an army the size of Pamela Anderson's.... fan club. And still, I loose...
I simply ascribe that to a minor bug these guys overlooked!
Check it out at http://www.thewarriorking.com/
Anyways, I would seriously recommend anybody flying through this space to give this game a try. Especially assuming you are at work and jobless enough to surf around looking for reads (there aren't any agents and stuff, so if your browser is javascript enabled you shouldn't face any issues!)

I Forget...

2008-02-04T05:25:28-08:00

Right from the wake, I knew there was something different about today. Perhaps just a gut instinct, but I couldn’t quite point the figure at something. I tried to think of the dream I had, but to no avail. Was it the same as yesterday? Maybe… Try as I might, I could not close it down…

The coffee was cold and stale. Is this how I like my coffee? I am not too sure. The last time I woke up in time to drink the coffee hot was at least half a decade ago. Or was it? Has it been that long? DO I really like coffee? Is this coffee in the first place?

Settling down with the paper. The Hindu has always brought me sufficient read to enhance my mornings. Always? Did I not prefer Deccan Chronicle for pure entertainment purposes? Considering the Hindu is pro communist, should I not loathe it? Do I? Am I anti communist??

Anyways, shifting to the actual news in the MetroPlus column, my eye falls on an interesting article about Alzeimer’s Disease. I remember to link it down for reference.

The story talks about the probability density of Alzeimer’s amongst the ‘post 80 but still alive’ populous at one in five, and the density greatly reduces amongst the younger crowds. Since the probability doubles with every 5 years post 65 and comes to 1:5 at 80, it must be approximately 1 in 10240 at the age of 25. However, since the factors are much less pronounced at the younger ages, the ratio comes to about 1 in 1,000,000. My peers have always told me that I am one in a million. Now that gets me scared. If only I can remember what it was…

Still not convinced (probably since it took me ten minutes to get through each word, by which time I forgot what it was), I dedicatedly mapped each of the symptoms to incidences.

Difficulty in performing simple tasks such as making tea: Sheeks, I realized I couldn’t make tea. In fact, I have never been in the know how all my life. I must be a severe case!

Forgetting appointments and meetings: Strike again! Mobile alerts, google calendar alerts, and reminders on my desk, while I overlook my inability in the previous quote to drink tea made by the obviously non-Alzeimer nair outside office.

Language Difficulties: Totally. I cant get Hindi beyond ‘Mera Naam Markiv Hein. Mein Das vi Kaksha Padutha hoon’. Too bad it had to metamorphose into the official high society babe lingo just when guys were evolving from Machan to Dude!

Confusion of place and time: Happens all too often. I once woke up at 3 in the morning and demanded Curd Rice from the room service (across 7 seas and mountains). Of course, I would now know that the apparent blame on Jet Lag was merely superficial

Lack of Judgment, such as being insensible to traffic: I lived in Bangalore for a good half a year

Problem with balancing cheques: I tried making a cheque leaf stand on one finger... Gets blown away every time! You might blame the wind, but we both know beyond reasonable doubt what the real reason is!

Misplacing keys and keeping objects in inappropriate places: Keys are perrineally misplaced, so much so that they have carved themselves a place on the couch. And keeping things in inappropriate places- I wear my wallet on my butt (with a little length of cloth in between called the trousers)

Mood fluctuations: Too often. I realize I fluctuate from happy (salary time), to spend thrifty (first 10 days), to miserly (last 10 days) to anticipating (last few). Hungry at 11, stuffed at 2, hungry at 4, full at 9, sleepy at 11, and more sleepy in the mornings.

Changes in personality: Depends on who I am

Lack of initiative: Life is boring enough for me to write a length on an article from MetroPlus!

So I realize its something serious. I had to remind myself- Gajni style. And the tattoo I printed reads ‘MetroPlus AD’. I try to remember what it was about ‘Hagar the Horrible’ that I so badly wanted to write about….

So, do you think YOU are demented? Tell me why and if its good enough I’ll forget it!

Disclaimer:

This post was meant to be purely humorous, so if this actually offends you in someway, don’t read it.

Alzeimer’s is a condition that cannot be prevented, but with early care it can surely be controlled to make the patients lead a better life. Check these guys out for more details

I forgot what point three was.

90s Resurrection

2007-09-18T05:49:29-07:00

SantHosh is, beyond doubt, the ambulance of this little space I have here. Why, this is the third time already that he has intervened, seemingly electrocuting my already dead head, but actually resurrecting my writing…. Sivaji style!

Anyways, this asks for 10 things I miss about the 90s. Being the block head that I am, the straightforwardness of the tag eludes me. If it translates to 10 things from my life of the 90s that I miss, I should say-

99: The TMT- Thara Amikku Thinnu (Open, press, eat), a stick kind of gooey chocolate from nestle that had us addicted. Having to resort to threats, plunder, malice and deceit for the huge investment (One rupee was a luxury back then- Im from 'suffering family'!)

98: First actual crush that seemed to evolve into something more. Yes- I ACTUALLY WALKED her all the way to her place. And even pushed my cycle along. That the entire trek lasted less than 10mins is of no concern… And the warmth when she waved ‘HI’ in class the next day, despite the fact that she was talking to a horde of other guys, her arm wrapped around something of an intermediate.

97: Well versed in the F word, occasional use of the M word and attempts at entering the ROCK world by resorting to Colonial Cousins ( a mistake that would paint my life in absolute silence, to this day!). Primeval gangs getting formed. Breaking away from the retards who refused to grow beyond screaming ‘MISS’ (we now say MA’M), and wouldn’t be generous with their Fs and Ms.

96: Back from the US, armed with powerful words such as fuck and gay. And a deeper insight into the actual process of baby forming. Up until then it was all ‘switch the light off and join two flowers’ (thinking back, it surprises me that such simple anatomical differences did not enthuse my curiosity!)

95: Holding heated discussions about why marriage is an insane institution (I still say that, but remember- Girlfriend and LOUWE were evil words then- worse than fool and Bledddy Fool!!!). The high point is asking people to stretch their lips with their fingers and try to say RUBBER… which would sound like LOVER. And create a hue and cry about the BAD WORD!!

94: Understanding that running in second to class does not form enough evidence to conclude the other party has an upper hand in the blame game. Constructing the first ever interrogation theory- ‘confessing to a crime before questioning, is no good’. Of course, later I removed the ‘before questioning’ part.

93: Living in the delusion that the prize I won for western music was actually well earned. That Mr. Felix was the master of Mozart, Beethovan, Bon Jovi and The Undertaker. And that ‘Bombay Meri Hei’ was the coolest song ever invented.

92: Convincing the maid to part with her 50paise against the promise that I won’t call her DEE (yes I was a budding marketer and an apparent chauvinist even back then). Enjoying the pleasures of Paal Gova (=Milk Guava … go figure!) with my well earned booty.

91: Looking at dad painting our old scooter a shade of bluish pinkish brownish whitish yellowish red… and excited that it ACTUALLY looked good.

90: Waking up one fine day to hear that the Prime Minister was assassinated. And rolling back to sleep without much care.

But in case the tag talks about 10 things from the 90s that’s never coming back, there are quite a few stupidities back then-

Standard essay and elocution topics such as ‘The world in 2000’: I actually heard one say teachers will be replaced (notice the usage of the word WILL against lesser equals- may be, COULD or there is a possibility that...) by robots and there will be no cars- only space crafts, and people will transit between Earth and Mars for work and all that… And it was already November 1999!!!

Sky rocketing Arisi Mittai (Rice Sweet= rice coated with disgusting multi colored sugary stuff) sales, just because of the WWF stickers you got free with it.

Trump cards- WWF Trump, Cars Trump, Bikes Trump, Trump trump… Screaming CLASH after every card, just so you get it first in case there is a tie… and eventually fighting over who said it first when there actually is one!

Star TV and Cable TV being luxury items. Being content with DD, and yet actually having something worthwhile on cable.

VCRs… Renting cassettes off the store round the corner, quickening a three hour movie to the minimal time, and then returning it saying the quality was too poor and you won’t pay.

G.I.Joe!!!

Post cards… Actually, I’ve never sent one EVER except when I was forced to, as part of a school project, and I never got it till date (I lived exactly 5 metres away from my school!)

No caller Ids. Blank calls and ‘guess who’ games were so much more fun.

Ambassadors as status symbol of the rich… Contessa as that of the classy…

College was a place where guys rode in with long hair, baggy trousers and Yamahas… And always picked up gorgeous looking girls with no holds for economic backgrounds, caste, creed or arrears…

And before I pack along let me continue the holy task of resurrecting other fellow bloggers from the epidemic-

Mayth- for enquiring about my death

Mocking Spirit- Just to poke you and make sure your are really dead

Abhas- I really like doing this!

Appu- so I pass on some traffic to you… Better return the favor

Arthy- for keeping at least the chatbox in my blog alive this past month

Anand- for being the nice guy who actually responds to tags and stuff…

Erce- beautiful girls are a rarity

Science wins Technology- Hands down

2008-02-04T05:26:32-08:00

Technology and its daily nuances don’t affect me half as much as its elder brother- science usually does. That apart, the recent unveiling of the Audeo has had me quite enthralled.

The human body and the amazing engineering within comes to the obvious when we start to look at the body as an engineered genius. What is the heart but a pump, the limbs but joints, blood an intricate work of plumbing, and nerves but wires.

So what greatness is a device that can make people who can neither talk not move by their own now do both with ease to the common man bestowed with the powers of motion and speech? In my honest opinion- Zilch. As of now, the Audeo is the new baby technology that does its rounds to collect its fair share of awe and dough. But looking beyond the economic prosperity, let’s take a little trip in extrapolation, if only you would remove that skeptic’s hat and rationale behind.

The nervous system is a loose analogy to an electrical circuit. Only instead of a direct potential difference as in electricity, neurons (the wires here) do their job with the help of chemicals that create a similar potential (synapses). It is therefore only logical to try and tap this potential to draw the causal relationships that govern the human brain and perhaps try replicating it. In fact, contemporary electro encephalograms are based on plotting the neurotic wave pattern. To state it simply enough, the Audeo works by converting certain neuron pulses into electric ones and then act upon the latter.

Getting down to the extrapolation now, let us consider the possibility of the reverse (converting electric impulses to neuron ones) being possible (I see no reason why it shouldn’t). Imagine creating an electro-mechanical arm that moves and works just like a real one. People with severed limbs can just fit one to the stub of their joints. While prosthetics have been widely available for over a good half a century and perhaps more, imagine the possibility of an artificial limb that not only moves, shakes and wrings just as a normal hand would, but also feels. Amongst the sensory perceptions, it is without doubt that the sense of touch is given a lesser than least respect. But we often do not realize that the perfect equilibrium in holding an egg is only made possible because the hand realizes the opposing pressure acting on it. But for the pressure detectors in the form of intricate nerve endings on the fingers, the egg would be simply squashed.

Pressure sensors, heat sensors and converting these signals into any form we require is simpler today than writing this sentence. If it were possible to convert these into a form understandable by the nervous system (brain/ CNS), we can practically replicate sensory organs with cheaper and more widely available responsive prosthetics.

The high point of my imagination is when the eyes can be replaced by auto focus low power cameras, limbs with robotic prosthetics, smell with olfactory detectors, ears with minute microphones etc (not able to bypass taste though). A complete human requiring just a brain and a spine (for central nervous coordination)- the rest substituted by robotic components.

As a final blow, reality is merely the interpretation of our sensory perceptions (which is why we are calmed or irked by some kinds of lights, music, pictures, temperature, environ, smell etc). By replicating the sensory stimuli, we can ideally create a false reality- MATRIX style. To think about it, this might even eventually be required. To ensure that we do not continue littering about, we might simply be slipped into a virtual world which our senses convince us to be real. Perhaps we would simply live in a world of supposed reality just so as to ensure sustenance of our world. Maybe we voluntarily entered a make believe world where life, death, pain and joy are stimulated responses much like a computer game. May be we already are there and determine ourselves to assume otherwise.

Welcome to the MATRIX

Who will cry... If they were your neighbors!

2007-08-05T00:58:59-07:00

Santhosh got this amazing idea of dream neighbors he'd love to have.... And thinking about it, here goes my list of neighbors (If you have no clue about why Im writing this, drop by santhosh's post and clear up)

I'd be really pushed to say I want 'hot chick' right next door. But then, on second thought, if im imagining things, Id rather she lived within MY door!

contender 2 would be Little Sooooper Star Simbu (Chimbu?). But well, then again, Id like to have him stay in a maatu kottai. And since it would be too much of an insult to the cows (maadu= god here), the cows can stay in the house. (Although their kaalai kadamaigal shall only be in the maatu kottai, to provide the apt ambience for our little super star). contender 2 is highly interchangable with wazzisname who starred in Monisha-en monalisa

contender 3 is George W Bush. I assume the only place he wouldn't bomb for financial gain is his own backyard- so atleast my house is safe!

contender 4 is Sonia Agarwal with "actress" sneha on a twin sharing basis. Red colored street lights are good for the eyes!

contender 5 is Paerarasu (sorry to steal your neighbor, santhosh). I'd just sit through with him during his deep story-line thoughts. Maybe Id learn a thing or two about getting the courage to go ahead with an idea that is an isult to the intelligence of even a UN sec general

contender 5 would definitely be Michael Moore. Evenings when Mr. Paerarasu is busy doing something more productive (like... umm... err... HYPOTHETICALLY) id entertain myself listening to how Bush is planning to kill our entire neighborhood by planting snort sensitive explosives in our kleenex

contender 6 is Gen. Mushraff. Its my good deed of the day, trying to find a home for the homeless. Moreover, it would be fun to watch Mushraff congratulate Simbu and Paerarasu for their contribution to art, plan driving them out of the neighborhood with Bush, squel it out to Moore and take refuge at Sneha's!

contender 7 is Superman. Finally, id get to bawl and show who's more powerful. Superman does not exist... I rest my case!

Note: I am also assuming I have a nice hummer and I can run any neighbor down when I wish!

Thank you, Mrs.Rowling

2007-07-24T06:04:46-07:00

Just done with the seventh book of the Harry Potter series… And still licking my wounds…

That the story ‘lacked ANYTHING that made the previous 6 books worth their while’, could quite be just MY view. Or even that the conclusion book staggered inconclusively could be attributed to my personal perspective.

But that the book falls short in logic and reason and fails to tie along the story that I assumed was crafted and woven through its predecessors is a fair observation. Growing up slowly with each book, I think it only justified that most readers, like me, would relate to Harry. With the sixth book, I no longer felt like a mere reader or the book as a looking glass into the mysterious world of magic. I felt a certain oneness, feeling pain when Harry did, stung by minor clashes, filled with euphoria at his finding love, overwhelmed with tensed anxiety during an adventure… And this, I feel, was the books’ greatest success. Book 7 cheats the reader on this.

[No Spoilers Here]

I’m not into throwing the plot spoilers here. Mrs.Rowling has done a wonderful job at that in a half score pages of this book. But a few descriptive examples of how and why ‘The Deathly Hallows’ is true to its name Deathly, but rather Hollow…

Mrs.Rowling seems to have gotten a bit too many characters in play through six years, and decides to unceremoniously get them disposed off. Now now, I understand its war, and people do die. But let them die with a little grace. Important characters die with lesser importance than that given to Dumbledore’s in book 6, Sirius’s in book 5, Cedrics through books 4 and 5, or even the incessant idiocy of the Harry-Cho drama in book 4 and 5 or Ron-Hermione in book 4.

The biggest problem in most stories is the finish. This, however, one doesn’t expect from an expert storyteller like JKR. With a lets-make-it-as-we-go style, the story weaves through and through, diverging further and further until its too far away to get to the conclusion. The plot ends with a redundant anti-climax, or with a ‘i-woke-up-on-the-dream’ or a simple ‘magic’ by the unseen. These are acceptable phenomena in the Harry Potter world and I hold no qualms. But a dream to small talk with Dumbledore (more resembling Morphious, from the Matrix) right in the climax, under old Voldy’s feet just gets to be a little too much… Especially since there are no answers here and it only further irritates the reader.

It looks like JKR decided to do off with Harry and wrote through the penultimate chapter first, then changed her mind halfway and decided to let him live. That means someone has to actually kill the Dark Lord. Of course good, kind hearted Harry Potter wouldn’t do it. And anyone else killing the dark lord would make the entire series meaningless (I really wished it would be Neville in a daring suicidal move). Well, he had to go (this IS the last book), so he conveniently has his Avada Kedavra rebounded on himself, just as Harry throws a measely disarming charm… Yes. That’s how Mrs.Rowling chooses the greatest dark wizard of all time to go.

Too many sidelines here. The story weaves through a plot of Harry’s wand thinking by itself, Voldy’s wand transferring power to Harry’s, a new concept called the deathly hallows, Harry being a descendent of some fairy tale hero… And add to it the trivial subplot involving the horcruxes and finishing Voldy, which surfaces occasionally, if ever.

And the final, most irritating part is the language flow. I close to decided that my book was a fake- printed out of some random fan fic somewhere. Now to think about it, the fan-fics should have been better.

[Plot absentia makes non spoilers end here]

Well, however bad the book is, the very fact that most, like me have read the previous six should push them enough to take this final drive through the adventure. As you might have heard, Harry doesn’t die. As per the epilogue, he instead lives an insignificant nineteen years not worth mentioning, except for living a life like bunnies do- and increasing the population by 3. In fact, the years rolled dull his thinking to the extent that he names his kids with the last 4 names that he heard in the close of the previous chapter.

Overall, thanks Mrs.Rowling, for saving a hero from death, and instead throwing him into an unemployed, half educated, depressed life of just…. Umm… procreating with Ginny.

Ps: the one good thing here is at least Harry throws a round a couple of unforgivable curses- a Crucio and an Imperio… Really hoped he’d just get all that vengeance off with an Avada Kedavra…

Pictorial evidence that Harry aint as much a goodie goodie as it seems. Ron- time to move on!!

Finally... Tagged...

2008-02-04T05:26:32-08:00

A long time in this world and jumps through 3 blogs... Finally SanHtosh decided to tag me. And being new to the tag-o-sphere, Im not too familiar with the rules... So in case i missed something or broke some ancient tradition in tagging thats been passed down ages, look past it and get on.

1.(a) Pick out a scar you have

Ok… Picking this out… (Ouch)

(b)and explain how you got it?

I just picked it out!

Well seriously, I pick the big spear shaped one that runs from my left shoulder and down my back. It’s a memory of a weaker moment when the intergalactic warlord slashed me from behind (I finish him off and save the world from doom in the next episode).

2. What does your phone look like?
A beauty… Spotless... Scratchless.... Hardly a month old… And unceremoniously stolen when I was sleeping! To whoever now enjoys a oc MotoRazr you flicked from a Chennai-Bangalore KPN bus, you will have sani in 8^th house for 29 years and your girlfriend in my house till i deem fit!!

3. What is on the walls of your bedroom?
There are just so too many things on the floor that most often its me hanging onto the walls for dear life.

4. What is your current desktop picture?

My girlfriend...

I wish!

5. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Hmmm.. Santosh… Why do you ask me this!

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Whatever I wanted now, it would have to be some THING. But I need to want something more than any THING. Which means it would have to be non-materialistic. Since I already have happiness and had enough love for the next 39years, I choose WORLD PEACE!

7. What time were you born?
The time time came to a standstill… Does it really happen like the movies? The maram aadings, the alai jumpings and screen breakings (the jagged breaking into 4 pieces) before everything going rounding-rounding?

8. Are your parents still together?
They aren’t the college lovers they probably where a few decades back… But you don’t expect them to be absolutely STILL when they are together, do you? Allow a little movement eh!

9. Last person who made you cry?
The last I really cried was possibly as an infant when the milk in my bottle was over (yes, it was only milk in those bottles back then). So I should blame my mom for not giving me the bottle… cos the milk wasn’t ready… cos aavin started late… cos they had a labor strike… cos aavin employees are a union… because of communism… thanks to karl marx… due to the russion revolution… which was the effect of too much Vodka

Yes. The last thing that made me cry was Vodka. It still does actually (whiskey any day)

10. What is you favorite perfume/cologne?
The fresh smell of thirupathi mottais in sweltering heat in TTD waiting hall

11. What kind of hair/eye color do you like in the opposite sex?
Black… Brown… Golden yellow… Blond… Blue… White… Pink… Green…

As the opposite sex of my opposite sex I am incapable of identifying, differentiating or sight adichufying based on colors. All figures ok.

12. What are you listening to?
Chair creaking… AC droning… Colleague is saying something but that im not listening!

13. Do you get scared of the dark?
Totally. Think dark- cabutain, karadi TR and the likes… Moreover even superstar’s karuppu tamilan calaru lines have gotten to the point where im scared I’d puke if I have it one more time!

14. Do you like pain killers?

Oh I totally love them. Anyone willing to kill this genius?

15. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Yes. Her name is Kuzhalaayee and Im too much of the shy types to ask her out. But I have no qualms in stating that in an all-to-see public domain on the internet!

16. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Fragments from comets as they fly… (I can eat ANYTHING, right?)

17. Who was the last person you made mad?
Tough one. Madhu perhaps. People were calling her Cow (for maadu) which isn’t very nice, especially when she gets married and raises kids and stuff. So re-christened her “MAD”.

18. Is anyone in love with you?
Lauve or Love? Love is the devine peeling of deiveega kaadal that I have resigned from. Lauve (pronounce like How) is the beautiful phenomenon that is marked with a tamilian beginning (kujaals) and a kannada ending (escape maadi).

A lot of people are crazily in love with me. But I really have no time, between my saving the world, bashing the bad croonies and getting drunk!

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Wow! That went good. I realize why no one ever tagged me before, and possibly no one ever will after this:-)

But well, to pass on the baton, tagging Mocking Spirit, Abhas, Gownder Brownie, Kavi, and Anand.