Scary Movies

I am a proud movie buff and it remains as one of my favorite pastimes. Be it classics like Godfather, scifi like Matrix, as confusing as Memento, animations from Pixar, movies of my favourite director Mani Ratnam, Romantic movies of Shah Rukh, talent show of Kama Haasan or pure entertainers of Rajini.. I like them all.

Recently I went for this movie “Grudge”, a remake of Japanese flick Ju-on and starring Sarah Michelle Gellar. I am a fan of horror movies but dint have great expectations for this one. The movie revolves around a haunted house where a young mother is murdered along with her son. Years later, an American family moves into the house. How the spirits terrorize them forms the rest of the movie. It seemed to be a good plot but was spoiled by some bad scenes and poor climax. The first scene where a man, haunted by the ghost, jumps out of his balcony was more like a comedy than a horror. It really brought peels of laughter from the audience. Then the movie was paced well and makes you gripped with the seat. But to completely spoil it, the movie had a fragmented climax. I have heard of suspense in films but in this one the director has hided the entire climax from the audience. When Sarah burns the haunted house, the screen goes black and finally she is seen standing with the ghost in a Hospital. Nowadays directors seem to be not able to tell their story in a single film. They definitely want a trilogy out of anything. Still, its a movie which would thrill you in the darkness of the theater and different from the routine movies. In fact that’s why I really like horror films. Its exciting when you watch them on giant screen. Some of my favorite films in this genre include "The Ring" and Ram Gopal Varma’s "Booth". Both were real scary experiences in theater. Hope to see more as good as these.

A BlogRoll at night

Its 12 in the night and im yet to get sleep. By the way it is not something unusual as me going to bed is steadily getting delayed ever since I joined college. I want to post something in my blog before going to sleep but donno what to post . I am new to blogging and nothing is coming spontaneously. When I actually started blogging I was thinking this as a form of scribble pad where I will post whatever I feel. My joy, fun, frustrations and blah…blah….But trust me its not easy to do some retrospection of things and post them so easily. Saying this I lazily opened the browser and typed Blogger.com. I dint know what exactly im goin to do but as the website opened, I noticed two pretty links sitting in the middle “Random Blogs” and “Blogs of Note”. Well! Finally a chance to find what others have in their blogs.

I clicked Random blog and it unlocked to me some really good scribblings or should I say blogging. The very first blog I saw had a solution to Iraq problem. It read “Iraq needs people who socialize and not who throw bombs” …. hmm..should be sent to UN for a resolution. “After reading several of my previous posts, it has come to my attention that my writing, dripping with mild sarcasm, generally pines after opportunities unrealized, and that I seem unsatisfied with my life” opined another. A humble retrospection indeed. Then there were hundreds of blogs mourning and trying to draw your attention to the victims of Katrina. “Everything is funny as long as it happens to someone else” says Jessie, a caring person from US. And there were funny postings too “they named a hurricane after my ex-mother-in-law, and if you know anything about mothers-in-law, then you know where I stand on this issue”. Then you have the Zimmers of Deutschland, Petits of France and Baggio of Italy posting in their native language. There was another interesting person who gave “A digital recording of an analogue life” as the title to his blog. Now take a sample of a person who thinks differently “Because of the rotation of the earth, an object can be thrown farther if it is thrown west. Now if I could only work out which way west was...”. Funny things apart some of the blogs I read today were really fantastic. It makes me feel that they could have made a profession out of it.

and finally i got something to post.

A Trip to Coorg

What do you expect on a trip made on a holiday weekend, with only travel tickets, no proper accommodation booked, destination you have no idea about, cunning tourist agents (who throng any tourist place nowadays) and local language alien to you. Yeah!!!, you are right.. Damned!!!. But wait! I dint make this trip with my family, but with friends, and now, it becomes a adventure :-).

Mission Coorg

Coorg is a green hilltop near Mysore in the southernmost part of Karnataka. Dressed in green, its a soothing sight for a guy from the urban jungle. I was there in the month of August which was the time when monsoon had just ended. We were a group of seven all from the same college. We started from Mysore to Madikeri, the main town in Coorg district, and the place we planned to stay. Kabini dam and Tibetian camp are on the way to Madikeri. Kabini dam is an awful sight and Tibetian Camp has a golden Buddhist Monastery. We reached Madikeri and with great difficulty we found accomodation.
The next day we went to Talacauvery, the place where River Cauvery originates. It’s the peak of Coorg and also houses a temple for Mother Cauvery. From there we left to Iruppu Falls which was a good 90 Kms from Talacauvery. The place where we stayed was near to the Falls and we were able to hear the sound of river flowing behind throughout the night. It is one of the most scenic places where you can stay. We stayed the night there and visited the Falls the next morning. As expected it was wild and we were not able to have bath. We left Iruppu and left straight to Wildlife Sanctuary. We could sight Deer, Bison and Elephants. After doing a little Photo session we left to Mysore station.

What seemed to be great confusion, turned out to be a different experience and good fun. With a fun loving gang around it was huge chunk of jokes which we laughed out during our return journey. Not to forget Strangers turned Saviors, whom we met courtesy poor planning and who helped us when we needed help in getting accommodation (Jickson) and travel(Arvind).

Preface

At last I made it!! I have been thinking about this for quite some time now. The first time I heard about it was a year back when a friend of mine sent an article which he said he got from a “blog”. Ever since I have been hearing this name quite frequently and found that it is the hottest thing around. The concept looked novel and I wanted to create one of my own.The article which my friend sent was also one of the wittiest real life writings I have ever read. In my workplace i found a lot of my colleagues doing blogs with zeal and commitment. Special mention should be made of Mali, Karthik and Guru who have done a great job. Now, let me try my hand on this. I will put that article which inspired me a lot and will soon follow with thoughts of my own.

"The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing" or "Why we don't get any..."

After spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)

Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.

Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.

If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary.

Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just dissappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.)

How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts? All I can do is don my worn "comfort fit" jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the "Look at me lady" scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red t shirt and baggy khakhi pants and white trainers a la Rajni in "Badsha".

Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But amma has said only on second saturdays..."