Driving on the New Jersey Turnpike is a game of strategy, anticipation and the odd pitfall. Add to it, the (not so) random speed traps and it becomes one long 2.5 hour long game of chess.

Yes yes yes! Orey Clancy-esque only! Naan engeyyo poyiitten!

Kuselan for the most part is the telling of a simple story of two friends. This is a story that had potential for understated and yet effective performances, considering the caliber of the leading actors in the mix. Having watched the Malayalam original, one went into this Tamil remake with just a few expectations. While all of them were satisfied, I haven’t been able to digest some of the additional parts that have been added to the Tamil version ,perhaps to satisfy the front benchers.

Case at point – the “comedy” track featuing Vadivelu’s character and his wife. And why the fixation with skin, be it Nayanthara’s or the other actress who played Vadivelu’s wife? Not something I’d want to see in Thalaivar padam, but this has been an alarming recurring scenario starting with Chandramukhi. Thalaivaa, can you step in and put a full stop to this nonsense?

While I am still the quintessential die-hard Rajini fan, I try to take the movie’s story at face value and mold my expectations accordingly. But that is just me. I can’t speak the same of the other members of the fan fraternity. From what I saw around me in the screening in the premiere last night here in Jersey, if this movie tanks in the box office, it will be because of misplaced expectations. And one can only blame the promos of the movie and the creators of these promos for creating false notions of this being a standard Thalaivar padam. In reality though, this story was (at least originally) not about the Superstar. It was/is all about his friend, Balu.

But the promos (including the official website) have so far featured only Rajinikant with rest of the cast relegated to mere footnotes. Even the music CDs that were handed out yesterday for everyone at the premiere, have only Rajinikant’s image on the cover. That, IMO, is a great disservice to the other cast members, especially Pasupathy and Meena. Their’s might not be award winning performances, but they played the characters that the movie was about. And those are the characters that I will recommend that you watch this movie for.

For a longer extensive review, check out my post in UberDesi.

Arun says here that learning Carnatic music is a life long experience, should one be so inclined. I think learning music, regardless of the type, is certainly a journey that lasts an entire lifetime.

My musical journey began when I was about 6 years old, when amma dragged me by the ear to Iyengar maama ((Iyengar maama, my first guru was our neighbor. He was also the father/guru of this man, known to many as Ilayaraja’s lead violinist and a fine composer in his own right.)) and requested him to give me violin lessons. I think it all began when I once came home bleeding after taking a stone to my forehead. So amma was forced to do something to keep me off the streets while she was at work.  And that was how I started going to Iyengar maama’s house every evening (or was it every other evening) while the other kids continued their stupid game of “catch the stone before it becomes part of your face”. My violin lessons continued till when I was 16, when amma decided that I should study for my boards ((I haven’t played the violin since then, apart from a Absolut fuelled session in ’05, and my cousin has since inherited my old western violin that amma bought used from her colleague)). If only she knew.

But even after a decade of learning classical music, I still cannot remember the names of ragas, let alone misidentify them. I used to think that I wasted 10 years of my life on violin lessons when I could have better spent the time perfecting my straight drive or my doosra ((Honestly, I can really claim neither to be part of my repertoire)).

And then a couple of weeks ago, I had my own epiphany. I was talking to someone who said she had learnt the Bharatanatyam for over 8 years and had gone through the arangetram phase, but *hates* dancing and had gone through the whole rigmarole only because her parents wanted her to. I could sympathize with her, but I realized something.

I don’t hate music by any measure. I am always humming or singing something, much to the irritation of people around me. And I am able to catch subtle similarities sometimes between musical pieces that I quite proudly point out to people (my latest catch is this ad, which sounds so much like this song). I realize now that while I hated the time I spent learning the violin, I now regret that I did not pay attention. For quite sometime I was extremely bitter at amma for forcing me into something that I did not have any interest in, but now I know better. The poor thing was only try to do what she could to keep me out of trouble.

Makes me wonder what if. But then, I think it all evens out when I realize I have had 6 teachers in the 10 years I spent learning. And I have had breaks ranging from a few months to a year whenever there was a transition from one master to the other. And on top of all that, I have had to pretty much start from scratch every time I changed teachers. Every teacher I had (barring the first one and the last one) was of the opinion that his predecessor was crap. Little did they know that the pupil was the culprit.

However, I have to look at the positves. My basics are obviously strong, thanks to the umpteen number of times that the basic lessons were repeated. So, while the sarali and janta varisai pages in the Ganamrutha Bodhini are dog-eared and almost disintegrating, certain other pages are in mint condition.

For the first time since I moved to Jersey, I spent Memorial Day at home. I haven’t had the chance to spend too much time at home in the past couple of months because of work, and so was not really inclined to play road warrior again.

But it was fun all the same, with the Jones Beach Air Show and the Brooklyn Bridge featuring predominantly in the adventures from the weekend.

That week in ’05 was the best time I have had, ever. We soon drifted apart, but I never forgot. Last year, when we met again, I was with her. I realized how badly I missed being with you. And you told me to go to hell. But I am glad I persisted! Thanks, darling.
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Ten days ago, Lekhni tagged me and urged me to essentially recycle 5 of my old posts. Normally I don’t do tags. I mean, unless there is potential for me to play the fool and essentially evoke a few laughs even if the joke’s on me. With this tag, however, the laugh potential seems to be rather marginal, but then I remembered something else.

I realized that I was closing in upon a milestone. By the time this post is online, it will be 5 years since I started blabbering. My first post was posted on Blogger on the 10th of February, 2003. And barring a few months early on and around 100 days in late ’04 and early ’05, I have been posting rather regularly.

Looking at Lekhni’s tag, I realized that she had given me a good chance to take a retrospective look and to reminisce upon these five years gone by. But the problem with my blog is that, as my erstwhile tagline (( I have an ever-changing tagline now, courtesy Twitter?)) goes, it is the record of an egoist’s road trip through life with cricket, music, books, cars and movies for company.

Which means that this blog is about me and me alone. So, as the days go by, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember the odd posts that one has “written” relating to some of the keywords of this tag. Also, the difficulty is compounded by the fact that I took an oath, with myself as witness, that I wouldn’t post anything personal here. So the odd heartbreak has almost never found an outlet here, even if some friends (both online and IRL) have heard me obsess over it.

I have come to a conclusion that wherever I think I won’t be able to fit within the confines of the tag, I will bend the boundaries to my whims and fancies. Hey, this is MY blog and I do what I think is right. Also, my ego prevents me from sticking to the “1 post per keyword” rule of this tag. I will hence go ahead and regurgitate multiple links wherever possible. But let me just make the basic rules clearer to everyone. (more…)

As a new year begins, one’s tempted to do something different. So one’s decided to start the new year with some anecdotes.

1. Some people collect stamps and some collect footwear. I collect headgear. Or at least I think so, if possessing 12 hats is any indication. My oldest is a (West) McLaren Mercedes team hat that I picked up at a store off Elliots Beach in Chennai before I moved to Ohio in ’01. My latest acquisition is an official (Vodafone) McLaren Mercedes hat (with Lewis Hamilton’s signature sewn on to it) , this time procured from the Team McLaren store (thanks Yakkow, for making the calls!). Another prized possession is a Nike Team India hat (to go with my Team India practice jersey) that some friend picked up at Macy’s a few months ago. (more…)

(P.S: I am hyperventilating. No one come to me with smart ass comments. To trump all of you, I have made the most smart ass of posts. Thank you for understanding!)

Everybody has a secret they fight to keep – a secret so dark that it makes their skin crawl and feel like numerous caterpillars have deigned to walk on it. For some, it is inappropriate thoughts. For others it is a petty crime. For yet others, it could be political affiliations, Nazi party memberships even, things that will make them outcasts in the current social fabric.

My dirty secret is something that will probably earn condemnation from most of my friends. Some will smile and make polite public noises about how it is all fine and yet privately swear off any association with me in the future. Maybe my inbox will be flooded with emails with “WTF” on their subjects. Maybe people that I haven’t spoke to in years will call and pray to get my voice mail because they don’t want nothing to do with me and yet are forced by social pressures to commiserate with my less than perfect life now. (more…)

One Halloween, a few summers ago, on an unusually balmy night, one decided to adopt the best spirit of Halloween that one could and dress up as a M.i.D.

Sadly, and most typically, no one understood! And since then disillusionment has crept in. *sigh*