How to Fall In Love- Part 2

November 6, 2008 at 2:01 pm | Posted in bong, How To | 9 Comments
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A Lesson on Prospecting….

Last weekend was truly a reality check. An awesome trip through nature, enjoying the sight of fall leaves withering,cold and dehydrated…taking pictures of them, as they fall down to the ground dead and lifeless. A beautiful sight worth romance indeed.

That was also when one of my closest friends told me he was getting married in less than a year from now. Flabbergasted. My first hit-on-the-head that my age had crossed those goofy college years was when girlfriends told me they were getting married. With others. Blame arranged marriage, but girls my age are now either too busy nursing their babies or developing them, that they are no longer on the list of prospects. Legitimate babies, mind you.

But well, Boo (name changed to protect identity) is the first guy in the group thats taken this “last step forward”. That he is also the only guy in the group with anything even mildly close to female companionship is immaterial at this point of discussion. And Im pretty sure that all the other guys are going to run in too. One has already resigned to letting the elders do the sights, and I hear his jaadhagam (astronomical grid that has the address of the bride/groom-to-be) is already on the front cover of Mylapore Maami’s Guild. Another is sifting through Bangalore hoping to reap something worthwhile, and has accepted my advice to sport the devdas look. 

Last weekend I also had the benefit of deep discussions with famous philosopher Chirayu. Yes, that’s a name. This post is, in fact, the juice of this genius discussion. Genius, primarily because he agreed with most of what I said, but Im going to go with the fact that this ingenious philosopher is older (by 6 months) and wiser (has a Masters) and therefore speaks objective truth. 

The Art of Prospecting

If you are 24, indian, male and single (and not trying), chances are you are going to be that way for a pretty long time to come. Except for the 24 part, that is. And after a point, the trying part just doesn’t matter either.

Remember that boyfried-girlfriend couple in college? The one that wasted their time going to merry-go-rounds in MGM while you headed to the TASMAC? Remember thinking about how they were wasting their young days and individualism? About how you were laughing when they told you they were going to get married the day they got out of college, just in case they ever did? Sit in a corner and cry now, moron. And then join me for another TASMAC, if you will. 

When guys are in high school and start going out with their first girl friend, they have dreams of a beautiful marriage, a house with dogs (kids are still out) and a good life ahead, By the time they get to the middle of college with their fifteenth, the thought cycle doesn’t get much beyond transplanting saliva, and hope to transfer genetic material as well. By the thirtieth its just trial and error.

Women, on the other hand, start with a trial period before maturing into a dream-angel-that-did-not-go-out-with-markiv stage (termed ‘soul’ in classic Tamil literature)*. By the time they move to the final years of college, they have it all figured out.

 

Assuming a guy and a girl are in true, eternal, divine, deiveega love, lets run a root cause. The girl could have lost hope of repeat romance and just stuck on to the trial, or experience and societal pressures could have pushed her to commitment. Obviously the optimal case for the ‘Guy’ parameter is if this were his first (and only) relationship. Ever. 

Now, guys, don’t just close your browsers already. I know your love history most likely resembles Mount Road surface after the rains, but we really got something for you too.

Now back to the analysis. I don’t really think there exists a high enough chance of a newbie guy going out with an experienced other. Riffs would erupt, egos would mount, hell would break lose. And the girl would just sign the guy off as a kid. No. That must not be. Most often it is the firsts from both dimensions that seems to work.

That brings us to our predicament- yours and mine. The next is probably not going to be your first. For the remainder of this discussion, lets assume that you, at least briefly at this point, decide to make this your last. Face it- the years are running through. Guys around have started sealing their duality. Girls your age are out. Reality!

Prospecting begins with understanding the problem. Indian girls generally get married around 24, with a threshold between 22 and 26. Familial pressure starts at around 21 and most girls give in and leave the matter to the afore mentioned mylapore maamis guild by about 23. Further most of this set would be off the candidates list by their 24th birthday.  

Most good looking girls, 24 and over, still not married either have a very high pressure tolerance or are already committed. And there is a good chance that most 23-and-over lovers end up getting married. Not due to any higher maturity here, but simply because they have far lesser time to hate each other before the marriage-age (as opposed to the good 6-8 years from early college). Not much of a chance here.

And if a girl looks good and has been warding off the pressures at home, despite being single enough, there is a good chance she has been getting a lot of RFPs (request for proposal, you non IT nits!). And if she still remains single, chances of you going out with her are pretty low. Especially for someone who has to read blog posts on How to Fall in Love!

But the bright side is, women tend to know that guys would tend to know that if they (girls) were single at 24 the chances of a guy asking them out is pretty low (due to the afore mentioned). That makes them more desperate at a threshold age of realization. I would ball park this at around 22-23. 

There you go- find a beautiful, single, non-pressurized-but-likely-to-be, indian girl and time your RFP to the threshold age. Oh and did I mention smart? In case that leaks out (and that is a good thing) just make sure she understands the “Guess 2/3 of the Average Game”**.

Note: If you are 26 or older the game’s up for you old pal. Trust the Mylai Maamis. 

PS: If you are a girl and think you satisfy the good looking part please do send me an offliner. The Mylapore Maamis have it against me ever since I wrote this!

Claimers and Otherwise:

*- One may assume that some women, most women or all women jump over this stage, depending on the amount of feminist one assumes oneself to be. 

**- In case you are too tired to read through, this is a game in which each player’s move is his best strategy, based on his assumption of what the other players would pull. Like speculation in the stock markets. 

Thus, another Avataaram

July 3, 2008 at 2:05 pm | Posted in bong, King markiV returns | 6 Comments
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My theories are often counter intuitive, but this one had me totally surprised. Just ended up watching Dasavatharam and didn’t feel anything spectacular about it. Just another color-color flick…It must be all that hype that surrounds the act that raises expectations to levels that can never be achieved, finally just ending the victim up with disappointment regardless of the initial worth of the act. It happened with Sivaji, and now with Dasavatharam again. And mind you, I am quite a fan of both super star and world hero (corny name).

But that’s not what Im going to be getting at. What worries me is that Tamil movies, like any other big-money business tend to follow a proven track of success. That is, until the track is sufficiently worn out, raped, plundered, withered, dried and gone. There was a college movie phase, seeing the invent of the likes of Prashanth and early Ajith. An initial success until there were movies with anybody who just stopped their scooter (this is the early to mid 80s) near AVM studio. A beat up story involving the hero riding a Yamaha RX100. Standard Ctrl+C scenes would include a college tour to a hill station on a beat up bus (with a banner saying “College Tour”), song, possible rape of asst heroine or attempted rape of heroine (heroine must always be virgin- even if married, divorced or with kids) by college rowdy. A few hundred movies with the same plot, story line, song sequence and long shot scenes until it stopped selling.

Then an action movie phase, a non-fighting romantic hero phase, police phase, criminal phase, zamindar plot phase, hero-comes-to-pattinam phase… And that’s what scares me. With Dasavatharam turning heads already, I hear Rajini’s coming up with 20 roles in his movie.
The trouble is, there’s a good chance that movie would run as well. It’s the Super Star for Christ’s sake! But it wouldn’t end there, would it? Lets just go ahead and extrapolate the consequences. How many could have the heart to take 25 Vijays in one movie? And Ajith fans wouldn’t be too far behind either. But that’s not what scares me either. At least these guys make entertaining masala.

So I just go ahead and imagine the icing of multi role movies- the true apple of our eyes. But to make the task simpler, lets put in the Dasavatharam plot. Only lets cut budgets by removing Kamal, Ravikumar, Himesh, the light and camera crew and all the other actors, extras etc. Starring TR!

A great actor needs to create a great space around himself. The plot revolves around TR, a DoD laurete who researches on integrating WMDs with poetry. An eloquent repeat of “Thatti Paathen Kottangachi” results in the gruesome creation of little superstar. In a parellel run, thousands of years ago homo sapiens hunt down not-yet-evolved cross bred human-bear populations. This part, like the original, has nothing whatsoever to do with the plot, except its one extra role for our hero and no makeup! Heres a rough of TR on this role:

 bear

Basing my trust on the readers creativity I shall stop short with the plot and just give the equivalent of each character:

 George Bush: Veerasaamy as the all powerful MLA because both always end up getting me in splits of laughter. No matter how serious they are.

the sophisticate

The police guy: Vakeel Dhada from Kaadal Azhivadillai as the bringer of justice because they act pricey and have a nasal tone.

the don

The scientist guy: The Kaadal Daasan from Sonnal Daan Kaadalaa (that wise love guru+ poet) because both are the inventors of the WMD but end up acting like heroes. Couldn’t find a picture or a video of this so if you find one do send it across.

The dumb tall guy: Cameo dance in that Vallavan Song. The acting required, and elasticity of movement is just the same.

The Japanese Marital Arts guy: The martial arts expertise and timely punch dialogs during the fight… Who else but Vaa Daa En Machi.

That sand quarry guy: The witty lawyer speaker. There couldn’t be a better fitting role- both guys talk too much and look disgusting. Although one tries to look good- TR doesn’t need to TRY!

The Paati Role: Our hero could never get down to being a woman, let alone an old hag. But delirious and stupid- a definite!

tr rand

The Singer dude: The sad thangachi sentiment role that shot him to stardom- boring!

Ex CIA Villain Guy: I couldn’t find a part where our guy could even be remotely bad, but the closest I get is this.

Oh and by the way, if such a movie did come you could be sure I’d even buy black tickets to watch it!
 

 

The Tamil Disease

February 6, 2008 at 9:32 am | Posted in bong, life | 9 Comments
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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

January 30, 2008 at 11:23 am | Posted in King markiV returns | 8 Comments
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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 50th 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!

A happening year if you will…

January 2, 2008 at 1:04 pm | Posted in bong, life | 11 Comments
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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!

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