God Bless Pramod Muthalik

Remember him? He's the chap who clubbed some women in a (night)club in Bangalore, for, well, clubbing. And now he is raking in the benefits. Not of this particular action, mind, but for his next statement. Threatening to marry off couples who are seen spending some "together" time in public on Valentine's day. 

This has caused an uproar, but not quite of the kind that you'll expect. Boyfriends and girlfriends from out of town are uniting to meet on Valentine's day in public. And to get noticed. By Muthalik's "Sena". Tired of their parents' opposition to their being together. And being impecunious, as indeed we all are at this age, they turn to Muthalik Mama to bear the costs of eloping. Nothing like a benevolent old uncle to indulge in the little excesses of youth. 

Mama, although can be quite irritating at times, saying Ram's name and making rubbish public statements and action plans, and his violence is not going to preserve any "culture" by any means. In fact, far from it, it has resulted in a resurgent "pink cheddi" campaign, wherein women send in their pink underwear to Muthalik to protest against his actions. That, is where Indian women stand. Now by doing that, they are just promoting themselves as "pieces of arse" which is pretty much Muthalik's stand on this nonsense. They are accusing the Ram Sene of molesting them, and then they voluntarily send their underwear. They are showing the world(and Muthalik) that they have nothing better to represent themselves other than their panties. And this mentality, this inability to think at a higher level, is what prevents women of India from being taken seriously. That's just petty. And they will be too slow to realize this, like the women who burnt bras in the olden days, not realizing that they were worn to prevent their breasts from falling victim to gravity. And the women who kept their bras on then, walk proudly now. Stand straight. 

And all the while, Mama had no clue what a "vengayam" of a plan he's come up with. Dear old mama. Snigger snigger. 

Ambiguously Titled..

Indeed, life is immensely complex. An equation.. with infinite variables. All sorts of variations.. the combinations one can create.. the situations one can create..mind boggling choice.

Mind boggling choice though.. not for people IN, or living, life. For the universe... to mess with the people who live in it.. yes. 

A series of hill climb challenges. Say, a racing challenge, even. Highly dangerous.. people expect me to be scared of the thought "Will I return after this race?"

And yet... what scares me more is "Will you be there when I return from this hill?" Once I am started on the way up, nothing disturbs me anymore. I won't hear of you or think of you until I'm back, and the thought that you might not be there when I'm back is disturbing. 

In a way, the sense of not being completely in control is scary. Being brought up hearing "You are in charge of your life" and then along comes something called "luck". Some people have it, some don't. Not in their control, either. Your hard work might be rewarded. Parthasarathy-next-door's sloth might be rewarded more. 

And yet.. We live life. We work as hard as we can. We make sacrifices, for work, for relationships. All in the belief that life will be same tomorrow. And we can't let the otherwise scare us into not doing anything at all, because then life would be a waste. We believe 99 out of 100 times, it'll be all good. 1 out of 100, life gives you a bum deal.. Sometimes destroys you, sometimes strengthens you. Depends on each person's mental makeup. One more factor.. 

Life is a game. Hah. If that were true, given a choice, nobody with anything to lose would play it. Although.. if you don't play the game, you don't have anything at all. In other words, nothing to lose. And you might as well play. 

One hopes one comes out of life with a net gain. I am now on reserve battery power. Mentally and notebook-ally. That'll be all. 

Couldnt Resist...

She was a first generation IT worker in her family. Her father ran a flourishing gas agency, and her mother stayed at home with Tughlak and Kalki for company. She loved her job, and the exposure it gave her. She was forever conscious of the fact that her parents were invariably thinking of marrying her off, and she was always looking out for a guy that she could pick out on her own to prevent her parents from marrying her off to someone. And she'd spotted someone, working in the same IT complex, albeit for a different company. He was smart, and had a great smile, like the chap in the Bru advertisements(Idhu Bru ma!). He had a nice way of walking that she always imitated and laughed about it to herself. She'd never had the courage to talk to him, though. Everyday, she dreamt of talking and laughing with him, when he was driving her back, instead of her dreary share-auto, and then, bus-ride back home. But she could never quite get those words, conscious of her new-found talent in the English language "Could you drop me off, please?" She'd made up her mind today though. Enough was enough, and that promiscuous girl from the food court was already talking him up. "And Look at him, grinning back, the idiot" she thought to herself, gritting her teeth, as she mustered up the courage to walk up to him. Five steps, four, three, two.. She could smell him now. Here was where he stylishly put his hands inside his pocket and unlocked his car from afar. He turned, conscious of someone close by, and there was that smile, although she didnt notice that. Her eyes were on the egg shaped, brightly coloured car car that was flashing its lights, and chirping, glad to welcome its proud owner. On the inclined "H" within the oval on the front grill. She felt her eyes darken and momentarily lost her balance, holding on to a post nearby. Then her eyes focused on the questioning, smiling, handsome face again. 

"Which bus to Anakaputhur, please?"

Don't give me that do goody good bullshit...

The title has nothing whatsoever to do with my post today, I think. Unless, I digress. Which I feel myself doing now, so fair chance. Anyway, its MY blog and I make up the rules on whether blog entries and titles have to be related. I know its been a hiatus and I have been literally inundated with message(s)! threatening to disembowel Snagglepuss if I didnt resume immediately. I couldnt help but oblige! And so here goes...

Social Networking sites: There's a ton of them. hi5, Orkut, Facebook, Xanga, Friendster, myChurch, mySpace, Bebo, Auto Drivers Association, Auto passengers association, you name it!It first started off wth a site called hi5, back in the days when I was a snot nosed youngster, oblivious to the evil in the world. So, this hi5 thing, allowed you to create a profile, add pictures, music, and everything. Soon, we could add videos, format our profile: make it nice and colorful and so on and so forth. Everybody thought hi5 was awesome and nothing could pull anybody off it. Features kept being added and soon it became quite laden with all the things that you could to to make your profile look attractive to the opposite sex(Ooh, look at me, I've got a Javascript clock that goes around with mouse pointers.. look at it flex.. Doensn't it make you want to sleep with me?)

And then along came orkut, and you had to go to the trouble with making a new profile and answering a few hundred questions for a small miniscule questionnare. It added something called a scrapbook, if I remember right, that you could leave messages for friends on. I remember figuring out that you needed to go to someone else's scrapbook to leave a message for them after an embarrassingly long time and replies to everybody's messages on my own scrapbook.  And that became huugely popular. hi5 was Simbhu popular. Orkut was Rajinikanth popular. And everybody would spend hours on it looking at everybody else's pictures and judging("Ooh, she's fat now. Ooh who's that girl she's with? looks hot!!") and add people they knew and ppl they knew through ppl they knew and so on and so forth. And suddenly there was a new kid on the block called AssFacebook, and everybody claimed to have "privacy problems" with orkut

And now Facebook's all the craze. There's something called a wall, apparenly, which is kinda like a scrapbook but its different because its on facebook. I don't know why anyone would call it a wall when nothing can be nailed to it. Metaphorically it does work fine I guess, with ability to host videos and audio and images and what not. And then there are apps, which you need to install if you need to do anything on facebook. Every thing you do's an app, and you have to add it to your apps to do it, and your apps list grows and grows. There are groups for the silliest of things and you can keep your co group members posted on everything.("I had diarrhoea today, and ..") The worst part of facebook is, anything you do on facebook, is promptly reported to all of your friends. Its the most ridiculous thing, you can't pick your nose in peace, it will go and tell your grandmother. Its an insult to confidentiality, that's what it is. And then there's the interface. There's absolutely nothing you can accomplish in facebook with one click. There's hands down, nothing you can find. If you can find it today, It will have changed tomorrow. It makes me want to put my finger into my brain through my eyes and swirl it around. And since google owns it now, It'll be ubiquitious. I still am on it though, because admitting you don't have a facebook account, thse days is like admitting you don't have genitals. I do have to admit I still go on sometimes, to have a good laugh at what people are doing, and so on and so forth. And Facebook has got a lot of its stuff right. Its just impossible to live with, on a daily basis. Its an exercise on how complicated something simple can be made. 

However, soon, there'll be something else that comes along and everybody will drop Facebook like a, well, everyone will. For now, however, Heavens to Murgatroyd! Look at the Time. I'm late...delayed, even. Exit Stage Left.

Lots to Rant about..

environmentalists and Ram Sene among them, but I don't have the time. So..They get pushed back and...ItsShortStoryTime!! 

He took a teshtu-sight. Seeing if her father was looking at himlookingather. His life stretched out endlessly in front of him, and all he could see was himself getting gradually older and older and his potti kadai growing older with him. So everyday, he had only this encounter to look forward to: once morning and once evening. Decades ago, there used to be a tender-coconut seller on the platform, where his kadai was now, but his father, after having had an argument with the yelanikadaikaarar over who would quench the collectively monstrous thirst of the students and parents of the girls college, picked up the aruval hanging by the wall and hacked its owner to death, the master, who had looked after it like his child and it, which had in turn fed its master. 

He'd come to possess the pottikadai when he was 13. Same time his father ran, ran for his life, after he'd seen the police come and make enquiries about the body, through the safety of his smelly blanket, when the effect of his ganja was just wearing out. It was his pride and joy, his livelihood, his everything. And it gave him the opportunity to look at her everyday. As she walked past, with her father, in the morning, fresh and smelling of rose gardens, and evening, after college, when the road was dusty and she'd walk past with her father, still smelling of rose gardens. The moment she appeared in his field of vision, everything became pleasant. The dust in the road settled down, the trees became greener and fresher, the noisy vehicles at the intersection stopped honking, and the horrid Chennai weather immediately became cool. Everyday, as she walked past, graceful in her burkha and veil, and just her eyebrows, eyes and cheekbones were visible. Stepping lightly, and in line with her father And when she drew level with his shop, she'd fall slightly behind her father. And she'd look at him and he'd look at her. Her eyes were perfect almonds, and they'd sparkle at him, like diamonds he'd seen only in the movies, and the pale,smooth, spotless skin on her cheekbones would redden, and the cheekbones themselves would slightly rise. And when they became as red as they could become, she'd look down and her steps would falter slightly. And continue walking on, drawing level with her father once again.

He knew this was as far as it would get, unconsciously fingering the silver cross that was hanging from his neck. He still thought himself lucky, though. He was happy to have been someone that she'd remember, for life. At least till she got married to some idiot with sweaty armpits and a lot of money, and she got all her memories beaten out of... He shuddered at the thought; he would hope and pray for her that she got someone she liked. He still could dream though. And dream he did, of living with her, of spending his life, happily ever after, in her arms, and always breathing air that smelt of rose gardens and...

"Thambi, eena pa? Nalla yedam po, kadai vechika.. Usara than keere.. seri, phasta manikchandu rendu pagittu kudu. Savari waiting."