Nothing but Factoids

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

2010-11-29T16:02:00.000-08:00

I just started reading "The Big Sleep" by Raymond Chandler (known most famously for his witty one liners) and could not resist leaving a small note about the book. This book published in 1939, is believed to be the starting point of the detective/crime pulp fiction novel. It is hard to believe that he brought in everything from blackmailing, gambling to pornography in a book - way back in 1939.

In Ian Rankin's words - The Big Sleep is a story of sex, drugs, blackmail and high society narrated by a cynical tough guy Philip Marlowe. As such, it provides the template for much of the urban crime fiction which came after, as well as most Hollywood thrillers. What sets it apart from the crowd, however, is the quality of mind which conceived it. Chandler's pulp credentials show in the twisting of the plot, yet it reads with the simple inevitability of classic tragedy.

For now, I am going to leave you with a fragment from the book - this is in the first page, when detective Philip Marlowe meets the seductive daughter of a millionaire.

"You're awfully tall," she said. Then she giggled with secret merriment. Then she turned her body slowly and lithely, without lifting her feet. She tilted herself towards me on her toes. She fell straight back into my arms. I had to catch her or let her crack her head on the tessellated floor. I caught her under her arms, and she went rubber-legged on me instantly. I had to hold her close to hold her up. When her head was against my chest she screwed it around and giggled at me.

"You're cute," she giggled. "I'm cute too."

Pain, Panache, Rock n' roll - White Room song review

2010-11-05T01:32:00.001-07:00

There are songs of love. And there are songs of pain. And then there are the songs of nostalgia.

But not too many songs can blend the three feelings together, and spice it up with a panache of Rock 'n roll that lay only within the creating power of the 60's. This quintessential classic rock number - #364 in "The Rolling Stones' 500 Best songs of all time" list - very succinctly validates the biggest argument against Atheism.

Eric Clapton is God. Eric Clapton exists. Therefore God exists.

So what makes this song so divine, you ask?

Think of the dark lady in your life. The one you loved the most, and who hurt you the most.The one you can never forgive or forget. Get or get over. The one you can't stop hating, can't stop loving. Well, picture her now, at that moment of eternity, when you look into the crouching tigers of her dark eyes, and know its never going to be the same again.

All you have ahead of you then, is the White Room.

And that's the place you wait, while the sun never shines.You hold her hand at the train window, as she sits, and try to convince her for the last time. You urge her to give it one more shot. You apologize for everything - for what you are, and what she is. You promise and beg, and tell her it will change. You tell her, you will change. But she is distant. In her head it is already over.

"No strings can secure me", she says at the station.

And as you walk out, you find suddenly that your own need is just beginning. And that's when the lyrics of White room start making sense to you. But the train's already left, and its just the beginning of an eternity sad time. No way to deal with it, except to get lost in the theatrics of thunderous bass drums and Clapton's sometimes extended solo, and dwell upon it as year pass in the brief interlude of the song.

And then when vocals come in again, years have already passed. And you bump into her again at a party. Time has helped you move on, you have lost yourself in the mediocrity of normal life - but the mere sight of her in the hard crowd, strokes that old feelings again and makes them resurface. But she has moved on, and she is almost kind when she talks to you.

At the party she was kindness in the hard crowd.
Consolation for the old wound now forgotten

The song, made mostly of colorful four syllable phrases, was coined by lyricist Pete Brown. Accompanied by bassist Jack Bruce and had Clapton on guitars.Along with "Sunshine of your Life", it became one of the most notable songs of Cream's career as a band. It is the sort of song that only grows on you with time, and leaves you with a feeling of longing and nostalgia for what once was.

And eventually, as the song finishes and the mediocrity of life takes over again, what you are really left with, are the last two lines of the song.

Ill sleep in this place with the lonely crowd;
Lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves

****

Cream

Jack Bruce - Bass guitar, vocals
Eric Clapton - Guitars
Ginger Baker - Drums, Tympani

Album Review: Rumours- Fleetwood Mac.

2009-10-17T01:29:00.000-07:00

I discovered Fleetwood Mac in the summer of 2008, over a chance hearing of the track "Dreams" on slacker radio. And I knew, even in that first hearing, that this was a band that I was going to love. I think it was several weeks later that I finally "obtained" their discography and went through their albums.

After a brief exploration that included dwelling into their 4 CD The Chain series and listening to isolated tracks from "Tusk" and their self titled debut album, I finally hit upon "Rumours" - my personal favorite Fleetwood Mac album. Rumours, I found out later, is ranked on #25 by Rolling Stones on its list of 500 Greatest albums of all time.

Now Rumours isn't as phenomenal as say, Sgt. Peppers for The Beatles, or The Dark Side of the Moon for Pink Floyd. There is no sonic exploration as in the case of Floyd, or mind teasing lyrical journeys as was the case with Sgt. Peppers. It was instead, as music critic Patrick Donovan said, one of the great lost blues band - either the quintessence of California Soft Rock and L.A. excess or one of the greatest pop groups of all times.

To understand why, it is necessary to get into the psyche and pain of its band members - the drummer Mick Fleetwood (and the Band's namesake) aching under the separation from his wife, or the love gone bad tale between the lady singer-songwriter Stevie Nicks and the lead guitarist Lindsey Buckingham. Concurrently, there was also the divorce between the Bass guitarist John McVie and singer Christine Perfect.

With so much aching between the five band members - and a world of awkwardness between them, they sat down to write and compose this momentous album and feelings came pouring out. Before long, they realized that each was writing about the other - although the lyrics never seemed to be too specific or clear. Hence, they did what they could and called the album "Rumours". But before long, they realized that they had created such a beautiful album which drew them out of their misery.

The album begins with Lyndsey Buckingham's peppy track Second Hand News - a track that sounds more high spirited than its lyrics seem to be, where he seems to be directing a message to Stevie when he says,

"When times go bad
When times go rough
Wont you lay me down in tall grass
And let me do my stuff"

Stevie replies in her second track Dreams - possibly Fleetwood Mac's best composition till date, when she sings in melancholy and tells Lindsey-

"Now here you go again,
You say you want your freedom..."

And in a haunting tune that flows through the song like a wave, she tells him about women that will come and go, and how in the end he must -

"Listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness,
Like a heart beat - drives you mad,
In the stillness of remembering what you had,
And what you lost..."

And then, there is the haunting guitarwork of "Never Going back again" by Lindsey where he revisits the grievances of his previous number. This song with its acoustic guitar ring is very reminiscent of Going to California by Led Zeppelin, another song that talks about the woes of a woman unkind.

The next track on the album composed by Christine called "Don't Stop" , which appears to be an attempt to look ahead and think about tomorrow since Yesterday's being gone, moves on with a classic riff that spreads through half the song. There is advice that is seemed to be dealt to a scorned lover here - asking him to continue to seek happiness elsewhere, and done nonchalantly and a little too happily as if, in an attempt to mask your own pain.

The sixth track in the album is "Go your own way", which talks about Lindsey's acknowledgment of -
"Loving you, isn't the right thing to do,
But how can I change the way I feel?"

Again, with a fantastic riff, and an effort to get lost in excessive rock and roll to forget the aching of the heart brings us this fantastic number by the band.

Go you own way follows up by a track called "Songbird" a soft number in which Christine sings the ache of her heart and reinstates that she will love like never before.

My second most favorite track from the Rumours album (Dreams being the first), is The Chain. This song has everything a good song ought to have. Beautiful guitar work, a good chorus and voice, good beats - and of course, the slightly accusatory lyrics where Stevie Nicks and Lindsey sing together-

"And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again."

So let's just break the chain shall we? And see where life takes us. Let us instead dwell on other things and be happy, like that accelerating riff that comes in past three minutes into the song and gives us the enthusiasm to run headlong into life.

"Oh Daddy", is most probably a tribute to Mick Fleetwood, the caretaker of the band, and the strength that held them together while they faced their biggest crisis of their relationship as a group. The album ends with Gold Dust woman, in which Stevie speaks about Lindsey's downward spiral into Cocaine abuse when she tells him to
"Take a silver spoon,
And dig your grave."

Rumours went on to be come the 10th best selling album of all time, and Fleetwood Mac became a commercial success with this album, although none of the band members ever got back together with each other. They went on lead different lives, and meet different people.

And yet, the strange thing was they stuck on together as a band. And they continue to play till this day at live concerts. They all have different lives now - but each time, any of these songs are sung, Stevie says, it is like visiting old memories - and we love each other in ways that wouldn't have been possible if we had been together.

And the intensity behind their relationships gives me all the more reasons to love this album.

Love Aaj Kal: Movie Review

2009-08-10T06:20:00.000-07:00

Some movies deliver to the older folks. And others work strictly for the younger multiplex going generation. This movie promises to address both but sort of immerses itself in the younger story - the multiplex story. And in that context, it works splendidly.

Saif Ali Khan's production debut begins with Love Aaj Kal - a movie by Imtiaz Ali - The same guy who directed the sloppy "Jab We met". Jab We Met was a hit - for reasons beyond my understanding. For all I knew, it was a DDLJ rehash with a poor man's Sharukh who was incapable of any menacing expressions whatsoever (Okay, I have heard about Kaminey, but I guess its something we ought to wait and see - not hype up. Even good directors make bad movies, as Ram Gopal Varma could tell you).

Now why Jab We met was a hit? I must probably give credit to all the punjabi women who went gaga about it. That, and the fact that we had a recently broken up Bebo and Shahid who created enough publicity with the last movie they would do together, and the few kisses they shared on and off screen that somebody has been kind enough to upload to youtube.

Enough said about that. Jab We Met was a mediocre movie.

Love Aaj Kal, on the other hand, is good. Now, it isn't excellent. It isn't without its little failings, its badly placed songs, occassional spurts of unemotive acting by a model turned actress with a behind to kill for, and a star actor with the worst dancing skills since Sunny Deol. Don't believe me? Just watch him prance around for Twist, looking goofily straight at the camera and trying too hard not to mess it up.

But what makes Love Aaj Kal work for me, is its plausible storyline -about love in today's world and the practicality of letting someone go - even if you feel somewhere deep inside that this might be the right one. There is an ounce of truth in what happens in the movie - and it is bitter. Yet, we are shown the sweetness that once existed - in the story of yesterday, which unfortunately, plays like a romantic comedy track. This story is told through Rishi Kapoor's narrative although in a flight of cinematic license unknown previously to Bollywood, the character is played yet again by Saif.

And thus we see two stories unfold as we witness a Saif of the older days ( who is actually Rishi Kapoor when he grows old)- spotting a turban and beard and making declarations of love as he follows his loved one miles and miles just to see her. And on the other side, there is the Urban Saif - the talking, blundering and philandering Saif, who lets love take a backseat and immerses instead into work and playstations and growth, only to find himself terribly lonely, when all is lost.

Love Aaj Kal works because its script does not travel the familiar path. It moves into unchartered territory and talks about relationships and confusion. It addresses the fear of commitment all men feel and what Indian movies conveniently ignore. Happily ever after is tougher than ever today, and this is what Love Aaj Kal portrays.

Having said that the acting is not too great, there are times - when the acting does deliver - the sorrow that runs deep behind Deepika's eyes, or the drunkenness with which the pair stumble into an apartment complex and Saif mumbles a hello. Deepika, who got away playing a prop in Om Shanti Om, gets ample space to act in Love Aaj Kal - Sometimes, she does deliver, showing that she cannot be written off immediately. At other times, it is clear that she is still raw. There is much to be learned.

The movie therefore, rests mostly on Saif's broad shoulders - and he pulls through, despite his rather large nose and balding forehead. The forehead is conveniently covered in the Sardar's avatar - but the broad shoulders gell well into the Sardar's shirt - although they make the new generation Saif look pudgy and fat. I personally liked his look as the older Saif better. Being an actor of caliber, he manages to bring out the unchecked agression and insecurity of a Punjabi munda.

Lastly, a word on Harleen Kaur - that beautiful beautiful Italian lady they have cast as Saif's love interest. She fits into the role of a beautiful Punjabi maiden perfectly and is tailor made gorgeous.

For me, a good movie is something with a script that doesn't bore, dialogues that I find easy to comprehend and a story that keeps my attention till the end. Love Aaj Kal managed to do all three of these - and it is therefore a movie that is not your average Bollywood movie - despite being packed and disguised that way.

And thus it becomes the sort of movie you must see. If you were ever in love. Or in a relationship. Or confused.

Yesterday. Or today.

Four Stars on Five.

Foreign Film: Just Another Love Story - A review.

2009-07-25T06:46:00.000-07:00

Six months ago, I came across a Dutch movie unwittingly as I stood outside a remote movie hall in New York City. Released sometime in 2007, this movie was titled "Kærlighed på film".

The English Translation: Just Another Love Story.

One glance at the poster told me it was anything but that. A man, stands with a gun drawn over a dead man in a pool of blood. Time wasn't wasted. Tickets were bought. Seats occupied.

The movie begins like promised with a series of numbered love scenes. Except that it was hardly love. It begins with the protagonist Jonas's narrative of how it all ends and then we are thrown into his life as he struggles through a slightly sickening job and a boring wife and kid, when he suddenly meets the femme fatale Julia through an accident. The accident leaves Julia injured and comatic. Jonas makes his way to the hospital to be misunderstood by her family as her boyfriend.

When his feeble attempts to clear the misunderstanding fail, Jonas finds himself being handed a wet sponge to wipe the naked and comatic Julia's body with clear instructions to clean between her armpits and legs. And thus begins a strange, erotic, cruel, ambivalent and sometimes funny journey as he claims to be who he is not, and leaves the life that was originally his, suddenly and unwittingly drawn into a passionate love, an exotic fantasy and a forbidden life.

And as we follow him through a sensory overload of events, we are both repulsed and strangely attracted to his actions. The guilty pleasure of enjoying something really despicable. There is always a woman, the protagonist says, and there is one here. One, we are as much mesmerized with, as is the protagonist. Cleverly written, the characters often dwell in the intricacies of metafiction. A woman and a mystery are the ideal ingredients of a movie, one of the characters says sarcastically. A good shot, says the protagonist in another scene which is a classic film noir shot if any ever is.

The background score is brilliant, alternating between a slow haunting acoustic guitar, to a symphony of sorts as we move through the protagonist's life. The script is fresh and pulsating with energy as we laugh one second and are repulsed the very next. If a movie can make you grimace, laugh and bite you nails with apprehension and wonder at the intelligent sharp exchange of dialog, it is one that has managed to make its mark. This particular movie has surpassed the mark.

Acting by the lead characters is ace. The confrontation scene between the protagonist and his opposite number is fletched out stunningly. Fragments of each life are shown to you, and as you put everything together and move towards what is a stunning climax, you realize somewhat surprised, that this movie is exactly what it promised to be.

Just another love story.

Re-born to Repeat?

2009-06-29T06:40:00.000-07:00

First, there is the article on 27th of June 2009, that says Mahatma Gandhi was re-incarnated as Van Jones, a celebrated civil rights activist, which Deccan Chronicle News paper reports "here".

The theory is propogated by researcher Walter Semkiv, who states (among other things) that Van Jones shared with Gandhi, similar bone and face structures. Walter Semkiv also says Van Jones had the same affinity towards Civil Rights movements than Gandhi had.

And just as I give the article an "I-don't believe-you" eye and decide to let it slide by, I come across this second article on Michael Jackson possibly being reborn female in future. This article, on the 28th June 2009, which Deccan Chronicle(again) prints, can be read "here".

This article, written by... *rubs eyes*...the same Walter Semkiv guy, talks about Michael Jackson being earlier born as a French entertainer and then as a young soldier who lost his life at a battle. Walter Semkiv also goes on to say (among other things), that with Soldier Jackson's young death in battle, he had lost a chance at boyhood.

This, my friends, explained Pop-king Jackson's craving of boyhood. Find no errors in that sentence. And speak no evil of the dead, mind you.

But this Walter Semkiv guy is alive. (And so is Deccan Chronicle). So it isn't nearly as bad to wonder what it is that these guys are cooking up. And why is it that"our correspondent" is writing so many things about him?

But before Walter Semkiv can wonder why his article causes me to furrow my eyebrows in deep concentration, he must look at my coat, long hat and pipe. He must wonder who it is I could have been in a fictitious previous life.

Isn't it elementary, dear Walter?

Dengue Wars - The attack of the (mosquito) clones

2009-06-19T07:26:00.000-07:00

If this story is indeed plausible, and not something out of science fiction movie, it might do well for you to click "here" and learn about these genetically modified mosquitoes, that a research team in Chennai is working upon.

In the words of visiting Oxfordian research fellow S.S. Vasan, the technology "deploys these genetically sterile Aedes aegypti male mosquitoes to fight disease causing ones." The disease they are targeting seems to be dengue, in this scenario.

That sounds like bloody science fiction to me! But on second thoughts, if such a thing really were possible, I can't help but wonder if it wouldn't be easier to genetically modify those bloodsuckers to love animal blood and leave us humans alone? I mean think about it. It sounds a lot easier than manufacturing clones to fight the bad guys. (Yet another Terminator movie?).

Oh well. Random useless thought apart, I must concede that science does have its limitations. And from what I read of the article, so does the benevolence of our Indian government.

The God Of Small Things - A Review

2009-05-27T16:54:00.000-07:00

Some books can be loved unconditionally.

They pull the strings of our hearts immediately and urge us to read along and love the characters. Kite Runner is an example of this case - where an alien country is made familiar to us, by the thread of human emotion that runs through it. It is the sort of book one learns to love in its first page and treasure it through its final pages.

Not "The God of Small Things". In TGOST, the laws of love have been set, deciding who would love this book. And how. And how much.

Exactly how I love this book ( if I love it at all) and how much I love it, is a question I find very difficult to answer even a week after I finish it. I picked up the book with a jaundiced eye, knowing very well that Indian Authors religiously go that extra mile to prove their mastery over the English language. And consciously aware of this effort, they then try to return to their roots, lavishly sprinkling their writing with Italicized Indian words, (the jhola that Ramu Postman carries, or the alluring dupatta that Savita bhabhi uses to adorns her cleavage revealing choli).

As a result, Indian writing is often sporadic. A case in point is Siddharth Dhavant's "Last Song of Dusk". The book starts off with a verbally packed first three pages, and then settles comfortably into regular speech for the next hundred pages. Again book 2 ( which is a few years later), begins with some powerfully packed pages, before it too settles into more comfortable language. This demonstrates quite clearly to the searching eye of a break after part 1, when Siddharth would have rubbed his hands gleefully and decided he is ready to start part 2. And the enthusiasm shows for a few pages.

"The God of Small Things", begins similarly. It opens to a panaromic view of Ayemenem in Kerala, sprinkled with sights, sounds and smells - about black crows gorging on bright mangoes, ripening of red bananas, bursting of jackfruits and "dissolute blue bottles humming vacuously in the fruity air". Very clearly, Arundhati Roy draws attention to her style and makes a point that she might be Indian, but her english, just like Kerala is hot, humid poetry. And into this poetry walks one half of our duel protagonists "Rahel". She returns to Ayemenem searching her long lost twin brother Estha who had been "returned" when they were only seven years old. Why he was returned is a story we learn through the rest of the book, where Small Things (duly capitalized in the eyes of our duel twin seven year olds) eventually lead to Big (and sad) Things.

And like Arundhati Roy, the characters in TGOST, are caught up with their identities of establishing their intellect, be it Oxford educated Chacko uncle, who talks in his Read aloud voice, when he explains to the twins that an Anglophile is a person "well disposed to the English Language", or Grand Aunt Baby Kochama, who takes joy in Spandex wearing wrestlers (Mr. Perfect and Hulk Hogan) crack each other's skulls on television. Or the Elvis Puff shirt Estha is made to wear as the twins are dragged along to pick up Uncle Chacko's English wife (Ex-wife Chacko, she admonishes him), and his Half English-Half Indian daughter Sophie Mol.

But where Arundhati Roy excels (as compared to most Indian authors), is that she is consistently and spectacularly enthusiastic, moving deftly between her thoughts and those of her character's, sometimes even interspersing the thoughts of seven year old twins with her own authorial third person narration - which is to say, by irony. An excellent example of that is the Australian Miss Mitten who gives the twins a baby book, "Adventures of Susie Squirrel", which they read out to her backwards, just because they find the forward version too boring. A disappointed Miss Mitten complains to their grand Aunt, getting them impositions of "I will not write Backwards" to be written forwards. Arundhati Roys makes a an almost comical observation about Miss Mitten being killed soon after by a Van reversing "Backwards."

Also, unlike other Indian authors, Arundhati Roy does not dwell into Indianization of words and ideas just to bring the Indian touch. Instead she fiercly defends the Indianness that exists in a country that has been touched, corrupted and changed irreversably by the Western world, and yet still largely poor. An example is the lemon soda with thick blue marble stoppers to keep the fizz in, (an indian innovation, if any ever is) which sits close to a red icebox which says rather sadly (in her own words), "Things go better with Coca-cola."

There is poetry in what Arundhati Roy writes, even though she often writes about unpoetic things, about Communism, about the caste system, about Pickle factories, men's needs and naked beggars sitting on milestones their dangling penises pointing out that it is Cochin and it is 23 Kms away. And the reason why there is poetry is because the images are often seen in the eyes of the seven year old twins, who often played small games without adult supervision.

Who's mother sometimes asked them to Stoppit. And they Stoppited.

At the crux of the story is a tragedy. We are made aware of this in the very beginning of the tale, and we see its sense through through the eyes of characters who have witnessed, lived, died (not young, not old, but at viable-diable ages), been returned and themselves re-returned. As we move through the book, we catch the characters in the midst of their miseries, in different points of their lives. Often, the characters know more about their tragedy than we do, and sometimes we know more about what awaits them than they do. In the end, we know the Small Things which lead to the Big Things, and in this omniscient secret we share with the author (and which the characters do not know) lies the Godliness of the Book.

The God of Small Things is not a book for everybody. I do not love it entirely, because it is a book of language - not of plot. As a consequence, some of the plot twists appear a little contrived. The love story between Ammu and the untouchable Vellutha, for instance, happens too abruptly. There is no gradual progression of events that could lead a loving mother into the arms of the man who could spell disaster for everyone. This lack of motivation for a crucial act in the story, causes one to wonder if the author is not merely being manipulative to bring on the tragedy we have all been promised.

Also, the act of incest between the twins, seems too trivial, if not perverted. We have come to believe the bond the twins share (they think of both as "I "and each individually as "us") something wonderful and unique, to the extent that one wakes up giggling at the other's funny dream. Such kinship finally culminating into a sexual act seems like an attempt by Arundhati Roy to go for cheap sensationalism. There is something wrong here - the beauty of Roy's characters have been sacrificed by her conjuring up of a sexual act that does not bequest them. Perhaps, this sensationalism is Roy's way of dealing for all practical purposes, with a hopelessly practical world. But for the idealistic reader, this sensationalism (manipulation?) does the exact opposite of tugging at his heart - it makes his dispassionate, and diminishes some of the divinity that otherwise made this book beautiful.

It is a compromise she should not have made.

Nevertheless, it is still a book that cannot be ignored. There were parts of the book that I was compelled to read. And read again. There were parts of the book, that overflowed with symbolism (the Tale of Mahabharatha told by Kathakali dancers who perform stoned because tourism has shortened and commercialized their danceform). There were parts of the book that appealed to the depth in me and spoke a truth which I could relate to.

And as I reached the last few pages of the book, I realized that the end of the story was not the end of the events. Nor was it the beginning.

The book ended at a point in which the laws of love were laid down. Of who to love. And how. And how much. The story ends with a promise, that one character makes to another. And yet, we feel a sense of loss because we share an omniscient secret with the author. We know the promise will never be kept. We have read the Small Things. We have read the Big Things. We know how the story ends.

And in this anguish, lies the beauty of the book.

My 30 Most Favorite Songs

2009-05-26T18:55:00.000-07:00

This list is based on those songs that I have played the most and find myself listening to again and again without skipping. Edit: What began as 20 songs, turned out to be 30, when I realized there were so many songs I just couldn't skip.

1) Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen ( A night at the Opera)

2) Wish you were here - Pink Floyd (Wish You were here)

3) Light My fire - The Doors ( The Doors)

4) Dreams - Fleetwood Mac (Rumours)

5) Oh Darling - The Beatles ( Abbey Road)

6) Don't Cry - Guns 'n Roses (Use your Illusion-I)

7) Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan (Highway 61 Revisited)

8) Fixing a hole - The Beatles (Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band)

9) Time - Pink Floyd (Dark Side of the Moon)

10) Where the streets have no names - U2 (Joshua Tree)

11) Sultan of Swing - Dire Straits (Alchemy)

12) Going to California - Led Zeppelin ( Zeppelin-IV)

13) Norwegian Wood - The Beatles (Rubber Soul)

14) Estranged - Guns n Roses (Use your Illusion - II)

15) Jeremy - Pearl Jam (Ten)

16) Don't look back in Anger - Oasis (What's the Story, Morning Glory?)

17) Daughter - Pearl Jam (VS)

18) Come Undone - Duran Duran (self titled album)

19) Hallowed be Thy Name - Iron Maiden (Best of the Beast)

20) Tom Sawyer - Rush (Moving Pictures)

21) The Day I tried to live - Soundgarden (A-sides)

22) Beautiful Day - U2 (All that you can't leave behind)

23) Baba O' Riley - The Who (Who's Next)

24) Money for Nothing - Dire Straits (Alchemy)

25) Roxanne - The Police (Outlandos d'amour)

26) Locomotive Breath - Jethro Tull (Aqualung)

27) All along the Watch tower - Jimi Hendrix (South Saturn Delta)

28) I walk the Line - Johnny Cash ( I walk the Line)

29) No Quarter - Led Zeppelin (Houses of the Holy)

30) Mama I'm Coming home - Ozzy Osbourne (No More Tears)

Chronicles of Afghanistan: The Lion, The Prick and Mr. Conrad

2009-05-24T09:39:00.000-07:00

I am sure we all agree how retarded the rulers of Afghanistan have been.

But what caught my notice the other day raises the levels of retardedness to an new high.

This is a real life story that happened in the Kabul zoo in 1993. Despite the funny sad way that it played out, it is a story that has all the nuances of a successful motion picture.

Without doubt, Afghanistan has had a turbulent history, starting off as one of the pioneers of art and exquisiteness and ending up as mere rubble in the hands of the Taliban. One of those places of noteworthy interest gone into ruins in their hands has been the Kabul Zoo.

What began in 1979, as a slow decimation by the occassional rockets during the civil war, become an unmindful killing spree of all animals when the Mujahideens took over. However, it was soon pointed out to them that Prophet Muhammed(pbuh) was an adorer of animals and would have scorned on any cruelty towards them.

And so, for the time being the Afghan soldiers let the animals be.

But in 1993, an Afghan soldier (who for lack of appropriate words, can only be described as a prick), wanted to prove his courage to the fellow soldiers. He climbed into the cage of Kabul Zoo's most famous inhabitant - Marjan the lion.

The prick made his way to Marjan's lioness, Chucha and in an attempt at foolish bravado, tickled her belly. He then turned to wave at his friends.

It turned out to be the last thing he ever did.

Lions, unlike the soldiers, have integrity. They will not sit around when their loved ones are attacked. Marjan pounced upon the stupid prick and tore him to bits. He was dead in minutes. I can only assume that the rest of the prick's friends panicked, went around in circles and finally scattered like a bunch of flies.

This is where the story should have ended. Unfortunately in real life, even true bravery has repercussions.

The prick had a brother who returned the next day to take revenge. He threw a grenade into Marjan's cage. The lion, assuming it was food and not really understanding the vengeful malice that lies at the heart of men jumped upon the grenade.

In the explosion that followed, Marjan the lion, lost an eye, had its face badly mutilated and jagged ends of shrapnel pierced in its jaws and mouth.

In the battle of man against beast, man had won. He was after all, a beast armed with weapons.

And yet all wasn't lost.

At the time of the explosion, there was a photojournalist called Swen Conrad in the same zoo who witnessed the entire incident. He did something remarkable - Something that instills faith in humanity and insists to our goodness that all is not lost.

He ran into the cage and assisted in restraining Marjan the lion and provided first aid. Curiously, the lion seemed to understand that this stranger was helping it. It did not resist much.

After first aid and further treatment, the lion, though partially blinded managed to live for another 11 years till 2002. It is said that the man who threw the grenade is still serving time.

Internet Surfing?

2009-05-08T22:35:00.000-07:00

Hey man, check out this cool thing I found. (I don't say that too often, you know). I got drawn to this website http://www.condron.us/ when my statcounter picked up a visitor using it. And what I saw really gave me the kicks. This website randomly picks up updated blog pages from the internet.

So what it really offers you is a television sort of convenience to sit, and watch pages skip automatically.

And before you begin to feel that you don't have any control over the surfing, they do have a stop button if an interesting page catches your eye.

Fame, And Related.

2009-05-07T16:39:00.000-07:00

I was wondering what it really takes for a blogger to accrue an interested and persevering audience.

For one, I guess the quality of work matters. When your ideas and views are beautifully illustrated, people definitely begin to notice. But what really keeps them coming back must be a dedicated effort by the blogger.

I have read the same about music (Click here). Even a popular band needs to keep itself relevant. Linkin Park, is the example in this case, which keeps coming up with remixed/live albums (I believe the expression is "tide-overs"), to cover up the gap between two consequent releases. The buzz word, henceforth is consistent reminders.

Enough said about that. But on a similar thought, when I googled the term "famous blogger", I came up with this image.

Beautifully illustrated, eh?

Politickles, doesn't it?

2009-04-02T23:46:00.000-07:00

It took me twenty five years of living and one and half years of dillydallying in the United States to finally develop an interest in politics.

Immersed in the wonders of New York City night life, the discussions of movies and their intricacies, listening to a lot of music (I mean a hell lot), college work (when it was forced upon me) and writing just for the heck of putting words on paper (or blogosphere, to be precise), I was suddenly introduced to a wave of awareness that hit all around me. For the first time, college going kids were interested in what was happening in America.

The interests seemed to mainly stem from the fact that the Presidential elections were here. For the first time, the college educated kids found a man, who fit the bill of a real savior. There was something about his articulate, no nonsense sort of attitude, that seemed to inspire confidence. A black man, who became the Dark horse of the Democrat party, and whom slowly, every began to trust and love.

After eight years of a Bush administration, people had finally had enough of the bullshit. And McCain, the republican candidate, despite a few uninspired ideas of his own, seemed to promise a rehash of the Bush administration. He was a war veteran, yes. But he was old and caught up in his ways. And after the debacle at Iraq, a republican administration was the last thing Americans wanted.

And so, all eyes fell on the Democrats. There was Hillary, a former first lady, getting the most number of brownie points for a commendable health plan, was one of the forerunners. The first lady who was running for the white house. She had a firm following with the women of the country. It was almost sexist for a man to vote against her. And then, we heard about Obama. The first Black democrat nominee. Between the two of them, they had both sexism and racism covered.

These and other issues were covered not just by CNN, but more importantly by Comedy Central. Politics is always ugly, and many things were said about each other, even within the boundaries of the democrat party, and Comedy central made it their mission to highlight these.

Politics is also a dreary subject. And not everyone has the enthusiasm to dig into election manifestos and dwelve into the intricacies of good or bad of a politician. This was where Comedy Central came into play. Two men, who are by far, the funniest smart men, took it as a mission to bring American politics to the layman. And they were, for the most part, straightforward.

The first of these men was Jon Stewart.

Jon Stewart is an American comedian who took over the role of a political satirist, when he began hosting The Daily Show in 1999. Jon Stewart, in his own inimitable style, brings the week's news interlaced with humor and sarcasm. Although Jon Stewart is quoted as saying that he has no political agenda, and his show is mainly aimed at "shnicks and giggles", he has often addressed several serious issues in the show. Jon Stewart often feigns lack of intelligence in his show, and pretends to be slow. The ploy works brilliantly, specially when politicians come up on the show, and forced to explain their actions.

One of the major beefs that Stewart seems to have, is with biased News Networks. Like Fox news. There is very often a reference to how Fox news gives us both sides of the story - both the President's side, and the vice president's side. In a much publicized exchange with a former CNN host, Tucker Carlson, on the show "Crossfire", Jon Stewart criticizes some of the theatretics of television journalism, and pleads with them to stop "hurting America".

As an after effect of that appearance, CNN was forced to scratch the show from television.

Even before Stewart started hosting The Daily Show, there was another man who began as a small segment correspondent on the show. He filled in as the "new guy" in 1997. The name stayed on, as a joke well over two years. This was Stephen Colbert. Colbert, unlike Jon Stewart, worked on perfecting a character far fetched from himself. He changed the pronounciation of his name for this character, going from Colbert ( as in "burt") to Col-bear (like the animal) .

In 2005, Colbert started hosting a new show called The Colbert Report, a direct parody of a Fox News show called The O'Riley Factor. Colbert plays a narcisstic, ignorant and opinionated News Broadcaster. Off the show, he is said to have described the character as "a fool who has spent a lot of his life playing not the fool".

With a style that includes a big dose of irony and playing deadpan, he coined the term, "Truthiness", - the feeling of knowing something intuitively with no regard to logic or facts.

The two men together are performing a reality check on American Politics. As 2008 drew to a close, every night on their shows, they featured mockeries of both Obama and McCain. Their rules were simple. If you bullshit, they expose your bullshit and laugh at you.

Politics, like I said before is ugly. And in the heat of the 2008 presidential elections, mud was slung in all directions. Obama was said to have an Islamic background. He was linked with a man with terrorist affliations. But on weekday nights, Colbert and Stewart exposed these allegations for what they were. Just allegations. What the republicans did not realize however, was that their choice for Vice President candidate was going to blow up in their face.

Sarah Palin became McCain's biggest mistake.

Comedy Central had a field day with Sarah Palin, as anyone even remotely connected with the world would know. Tina Fey (From Saturday Night Live) became America's sweetheart with her portrayal of Sarah Palin

All she had to do was dress up like Palin and talk without making any sense. Obama spoke sensibly for the most part, and it worked to his favor.

2008 was famous not only for having the first Black president. It was also the year in which a group of comedy shows swung the popular vote.

When Obama was elected, Stewart was asked if he would now be left without a job.

"Only if it's less preposterous", Stewart replied.

In the aftermath of the elections, the financial meltdown happened rapidly. Obama struggled with coming to terms with the mistakes of the previous government. With the system crumbling, Obama who had once appeared to be a charismatic orator, now looked like a man making lofty promises.

The future is uncertain, and the new president is yet to prove his mettle. But Colbert and Stewart, America's true heroes, ridiculed whenever there was lack of action. As America faces its biggest disaster yet, these men are on television four nights week, doing their respective shows and providing America with both humor and perspective.

And as I watch them night after night, there are a few thoughts that strike me.

I see how a dedicated team of writers and comedians are working to provide a better insight against biased television networks like Fox news. And I cannot help wondering if the same is not possible in India.

Why can't there be a show that brings awareness with a tinge of humor?

I realize for instance, that there is no country without corruption. The only difference is that in a capitalistic country like America, corruption lies in the higher levels of the society. Similarly, there is no country without crazy people. For every Pramod Muthalik in India, there is a Glenn Beck in the United States.

How then are people like Jon Stewart able to actively ridicule their stupidity?

I guess one reason is they are inspired. We have a host of talented people in our country. Amateur writers who do their share on blogs. I guess what our country really needs is more people to take an initiative. We don't need a Mumbai terror attack or the beating up of girls in a Manglore pub to come to put a check on insanity. On a longer run, what we require is active participation in the television media. Being a country of many languages, it becomes essential to expose bullshit on many platforms, to even poor people in villages.

And what better way of getting their attention, than with humor?

Music : A perception

2009-03-02T13:28:00.001-08:00

In my urge to discover new music, I have been listening unashamedly. Some of the artists I have chanced upon recently include Fleet Foxes, Yeasayer, Neutral Milk Hotel, Black Lips and Death Cab for a Cutie. While they are undoubtedly very listen-able, there is an extent to which I am able to connect with this music.

After spending days trying to make palaver with these bands, I have come up with an analogy that good music is a lot like coca-cola in green bottles.

They don't make it anymore.

I was stating this opinion to a friend when he retorted that I am too close minded when it comes to music. I compare everything to Zeppelin and Floyd.

"Yes, I do", I replied. Because Zeppelin and Floyd are my music gods. They made the sort of music that gets me high. I don't expect everything to be that great. Or even in the same league. But when it comes to music, I have a definition of "Class". For me, the highest standard is Zeppelin and Floyd, and anything that comes remotely close, is good.

I guess music is the sort of thing you must be passionate about. Good music can set you free. That's probably the reason why people carry the attitude of their music - be it the aggression of heavy metal, the gothness of Death Metal or the slackness of Classic Rock. When it is something you really love, you form strong opinions of what is real music. I, indeed, am one of those people who has a strong opinion on music. I usually make up mind about what is a true creative attempt. And what is pretentious.

As a consequence, it is sometimes difficult for me to understand people who can listen to any kind of music. And even if I do make that effort, I cannot help wondering if it isn't at the least necessary to have an idea of what you are passionate about? Having that teensy little thing you love more than everything else?

It is good to be passionate about things. Be it music. Or movies. Or even a philosophy. I guess what I am trying to say is, one has to really love a form of art.

It is a beautiful way to live.

Friday the 13th.

2009-02-13T04:01:00.001-08:00

"Paraskavedekatriaphobia".

That should, without doubt be the longest and weirdest word in English. Okay, before you start your protest and come up with some technicalmumbojumbosortofweirdcoined word that proves the exact opposite of my statement, lemme instead said that the word at the least, refers to the day with the unluckiest of all associations.

Friday the Thirteenth. The day the world decides to unanimously make bad things happen for everybody.

Superstition, by default, seems to be a touchy subject.

One can dismiss it offhandedly, humbugging it (just like Mr. Scrooge humbugged Marley's ghost, and what good did it do for him anyway?), but they tend to linger at some surface of your mind, at least momentarily.

For though you might be a practical person for all purposes, an ardent deleter of chain mails that claim you will die in fourteen hours, if you don't forward it, and reveling in triumph when live beyond the same time frame, there might be other superstitions more difficult to ignore.

Let's say, for instance, that a black cat crosses your path. What do you do? Sometimes, you might walk on anyway, determined to prove, that a cat is, after all, just a cat.

But what if you had a life deciding exam? Or a career making meeting. If you, for instance, could take a different path and avoid the possibility of inviting bad luck. Doesn't it seem a worthwhile effort?

I don't know the answer to that. What I do know though, is about a stray black cat in my neighborhood back home, which nobody feeds, though it's white sister(cat) gets all the benefits of food wastes. Racism is predominant towards animals too, apparently.

Fear of Friday the thirteenth comes from fear of the number thirteen.

The fear seems to be a complex and intrinsically inbred one, considering that elevators in multi storey technologically advanced buildings in the United States never seem to have a 13th floor. Instead, that particular floor is called "Club". And yet, doesn't it strike you as odd, that a bar called "13th floor", located on the same said number, in Bangalore is doing splendidly, and providing a good view of the city to all its faithful visitors.

Getting back to Friday the 13th, I guess it's one of those days that has had a bad luck story attached to it. We will have to live with that. And despite the fact that fewer accidents, or fire, happen on this day compared to the rest of the year (considering how people are preventatively more careful), it is a day, that is going to remain in history as a feared day.

Well I don't care. Not really. I guess.

However, I am going to spend the day doing insignificant things like writing this post.

No point risking bad luck by doing something important, eh?

Review of the Dark Knight.

2008-07-19T02:13:00.001-07:00

This review is for you, if you have watched it, and are wondering if the movie was brilliant and flawless. Watching three hours of non stop sensory overload, can often leave you unable to make an unbiased judgment, making you wonder if it really was that amazing.

Or was there a tiny little "hard to point your finger at” thing that was wrong with it?

I am an avid Batman fan, who has been devouring the Frank Miller graphic novels that depict the grim and gritty side of the dark Knight. I have followed the tidbits and stories on Dark Knight for over a year. Batman Begins marked the beginning of one of the most amazing "ordinary superhero movie" ever witnessed. Four years later, as I stepped into the hall, and awaited the beginning of this new movie, the excitement was almost palpable.

I was not disappointed. The movie had enough chills and sadistic pleasures to keep me hooked and unable to look away from the screen for the most parts. And yet, when the credits rolled, I had a queer feeling, as though something wasn't entirely right.

For one, the movie was too long. There was too much happening at every given instant, which almost made it difficult to grasp. But later, when I thought about what the movie could have avoided, I realized that one of its drawbacks was dwelling into too many story plots simultaneously. We follow the joker through a long, and sometimes cumbersome car chase, which except for that final brilliant (and much publicized) truck sequence, was nothing great. We have been lead to believe that the joker is a man who attacks psychologically, and is not physically strong. This is portrayed eloquently in the interrogation scene. The joker is clumsy and weak. Which made the car chase sequence look like the sort of thing they were forced to put in. It was an action movie. It was a cliché they could not avoid. Henceforth, it become one of the most boring sequences in an otherwise splendid movie. I remember because, I caught myself yawning.

Also considering how Joker is the arch nemesis of Batman - the yang to the Dark Ying, the absolute bad guy, Two Face pales by comparison. No doubt, the make up and graphics are grotesque and excellently done. But we just are not able to believe that he is capable of the menace that Joker manages to exude. Similarly, I just could not believe that Two Face was that bad. The directors have somehow failed to bring the transition between his characters. If i remember the comic books, the disaster drove Two Face insane, making him dependent on the coin even for small decisions.

The real trouble if you ask me, was bringing in a new villain in the last half hour of the movie. One that made the joker's final confrontation with Batman seem a little unsatisfying. I kept expecting them to show Joker one last time. He didn't die, did he? Yes, I do understand how Joker is the arch nemesis, and its Batman's great burden that he can never kill Joker, and they are back at it time and again...but Ledger is dead. We know he won't return. So we, as audience wanted an ultimatum. Not a dangling loose end and definitely not a dangling loose joker from a building top.

Enough with the criticism. I am Batman fan. A son of batman, if you wanna call me (ref: Frank Miller). I loved the style. I loved the bat pod, the first robbery sequence, Joker's pencil disappearing trick, the flick of his tongue, the little line about Joker completing Batman, the other line about joker being the dog that chases the car and not knowing what to do if it catches the car...

Dark Knight was about Heath Ledger. Sadly, we wanted more of him. It JUST WASN'T ENOUGH! Batman as always was his sporting best, the flight sequences were brilliant, Caine and Freeman had the best lines apart from Ledger. Aaron Eckhart did a great job as Harvey Dent, though I did feel that Two-Face lacked character. I expected the sort of chill Javier Bardem inspired in No country for old men, when he tosses the coin. Instead, Two-Face's tosses were merely just passably interesting. Oh, I must really commend the Nolan brothers for doing away with the only female lead, and in such a sudden and scary way. I almost couldn't believe it.

Enough has been spoken about Ledger. I do not want to be repetitive. Clearly, his lines were the best. But more important was his body language and sequences, which were to say the least, eccentric. Kudos to Nolan for a good script, something that could give Ledger an opportunity for such a mind blowing performance. He sparkles in every scene, and we only wish there was much more of him.

A word on Bale. As Batman, he is the best ever. As Bruce Wayne, he does excel in a few scenes. But were those scenes requiring Bruce Wayne driving around in his Lamborghini necessary at all? In the quest to make The Joker the most remarkable villain ever, some of the dilemmas that made Batman the Dark Knight are never questioned. Batman Begins did such a good job of bringing in the character. Why leave him like hanging like a prop actor in this one?

Some of these sequences could no doubt be shortened. Batman could have been given some character and Two Face could've been the surprise element, AFTER a somewhat more definite end to JOKER, and the movie would have been a tad more awesome.Background score was brilliant. The scenes involving Joker, just before he mutilates someone, or pops a psychological question, are well, horrifying. I was almost squirming in my seat.

Over all a brilliant movie. A landmark Batman film, that ends on the right note, ready to jump headlong into the next phase of Batman's life. I only hope it doesn't take four more years! Long Live the Batman franchise. Long live Nolan fraternity. RIP ledger.

Rock and Roll dreams

2008-03-01T09:32:00.001-08:00

If even the longest of journeys begin with a single step and even the most amazing of discoveries happen per chance, then it would be safe to assume that a journey of discovering something as limitless and profound as music is bound to be besot with errors.

Nevertheless that first step is necessary, despite all our natural propensity to love bad music first. Well, not bad music, really. Forgettable music. However, that phase is a necessary one. Loving Popular music (pop), getting tired of it, and eventually forgetting all about it, is like a coming of age ritual every music enthusiast must go through. It sets the parameters of evaluation right. A dedicated listener is bound to travel beyond that eventually.

And one day, discover the sort of music that makes him high.

For me the first faulty foray into music was a mixed cassette (Sponsored by Bacardi Rum, for whatever reasons) seated on the "Newly out" section at a Stationary Store back home.Extremely tacky.

But it was an essential step. One that lead to other equally tacky choices of music - ranging from Aqua to Vengaboys, Britney Spears to Ricky Martin, all the essential trash one must have listened to in order to appreciate finer genres of music.

I grew up on a diet of Hindi music. The voices of Rafi and Lata played on the radio by doting parents. As I grew and graduated to school, the family evolved to hear current trends of music. Like say, Anu Malik? While I did revel under the tunes of Jatin Lalit and Anu Malik, I realized eventually that the tunes were forgettable, and the lyrics merely existing. I was coming of age, and realized I would have to explore more.

It took me twenty three years and a per chance hearing of the track, "Coming back to life" to discover Pink Floyd.

Perhaps I envisioned a great disparity between what I was and what I could become. Or perhaps, I was plain lucky to discover the kind of music that will save my soul.

Or perhaps, it was just an attempt to ape the west.

Whatever the reasons, the entry into secondary school, and its subsequents years of wannabeness, made me go through the usual boy and girl bands. Backstreet boys, West Life and all the usual crap.

And along came Eminem.

Blatant hate, explicit lyrics. This is who I am and fuck you if you don't understand me. The kind of stuff that every teenager would love, and I had found my first god.

Eminem was the crudest version of what rock n roll stood for. Yes yes, I know he is a rap artist and all that. But some of his lyrics had a rawness that other rappers failed to bring out. I have always considered hip hop artists to be a bunch of mumbling idiots, calling women bitches, and each other derogatory words. Eminem, instead, gave a hint about what music could be about.

But he got repetitive. He never went beyond the little spurge of brilliance that he initially showed. And the music wasn't great. Which is when I made my first foray into rock music.

It began with Bryan Adams. For a kid in his first year of college, it held a universe of possibility. It was a first glimpse of what music could mean. A new perspective.

Over the years, I have gone through phases when I have found him to be cheesy. Come on, what proud heterosexual would sing "Let's make a night to remember"? You could be using it as your make out song with a girl friend, but it would still be gay. But before I write him off completely, lemme concede that there are days, when I find myself returning to Bryan Adams. Some of his songs are catchy. "Run to You" is my favorite Bryan Adam track. It has the sort of riff that makes me give up whatever I am doing and croon with him midway...

I got my mind made up,
I need to feel your touch,
I'm gonna run to you!

Works every time.

Also, despite being one of the more popular songs, and despite my aversian for really popular pop songs, Summer of '69 is indeed a work of genius. A riff that will stick with you for a lifetime, specially in the accoustic version, and lyrics that reminisce about a past and sing to a lost lady love who,

Standin on your mama's porch,
You told me that you'd wait forever,
Oh and when you held my hand,
I knew that it was now or never,
Those were the best days of my life.

Must Hear: Heaven, Cuts like a knife, Hidin' from Love, Win some Lose some, 18 till I die.

Around the same time as Bryan Adams, I also happened to hear Bon Jovi. Now, here was an artist, that went beyond the sloppy display of love. Bon Jovi, thus became my first legitimate hard rock band. Everybody is familiar with the all so popular "It's my life". But my favorite song by this artist happened to be "Livin' on a prayer", a song about sadness and giving it a shot for love even as,

Gina dreams of running away
When she cries in the night
Tommy whispers baby its okay,
Someday.

Other Tracks: "You Give Love a Bad name", "Blaze of Glory" and my personal favorite, "Someday I'll be Saturday night"

The first two years of college were the years I discovered many bands like Police, Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Meatloaf. It is not possible to describe my journey with each of these bands without making this post extremely long. Suffice to say, that I came across some really good songs. Message in a Bottle by The Police is one such song, in which Sting sings very soulfully,

I should have known this right from the start,
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life but
Love can break your heart.

However, during those years in college there was one band which I found amazing.

My first palaver with Guns N' Roses happened when I ended up watching this video of Paradise City. They manage to exude so much coolness and style, that I found myself entranced with a lifestyle which I could not yet name. I was still freshly introduced to the nuances of this genre of music, to realize that Guns N' Roses was one of the last straws - The final bands of Classic Rock. I went to the local music store and bought their Best Of GNR cassete. I fell in love with their tracks. Slash was coolness personified, and Axle was a master performed (I hadn't heard of Freddy Mercury yet). Guns 'n Roses, along with Slash and Axle Rose became my new gods

Must Hear: Estranged, November Rain, Don't Cry, Civil War, Patience, Used to Love her, Sweet Child of Mine,

It was also the time that I flitted across Megadeth, Iron Maiden and Metallica. There were some offhanded good songs, but I found myself struggling with the music, trying to grasp it. Ages later, I am able to appreciate the sheer energy of Hallowed be Thy Name by Maiden or A tout le monde by Megadeth. But apart from their "Best of" CDs, it is still music I find difficult to comprehend. Heavy metal is not my cup of tea.

What I seemed to be waiting for was the kind of music that would change my life. As I soon found out, my kind of music happened to be classic rock.

But this revelation would come to me after two great discoveries. One, a tribute band called Led Zeppelica. And another, a movie called The Doors, by Oliver Stone.

Led Zeppelica, a Led Zeppelin tribute band played at IIT saarang Chennai. We had smoked up before the concert, and their music changed my perspective of music was all about. Back home, I downloaded all of Zeppelins music. Saw all their videos. It began with "Stairway to heaven", like it usually does, but the fixation stayed while I discovered the high pitched stanza 2:15 minutes into "Going to California", when Robert Plant croons,

Seems that the wrath of the gods,
Got a punch on the nose
And it started to flow;
I think I might be sinking.

The fixation stays even today, as I head to BB Kings at Times Square, New York, every time a Zeppelin tribute band plays.

There is something about Led Zeppelin, that makes their music so indelible. The folksy haunting guitar work and the screeching voice of Robert Plant forms a combination that along with the stoner trip lyrics make it an out of world experience to listen to their stuff. What other band could have written a line that says,

Been dazed and confused for so long its not true,
Wanted a woman, never bargained for you.
Lots of people talk and few of them know,
Soul of a woman was created below.

Must Hear: No Quarter, All of My Love, When the Levee breaks, Rock 'n Roll, The Battle of Evermore, Immigrant Song, Heartbreaker, Ramble On, Good Times Bad Times, Fool in the Rain, Dyer Maker.
The second milestone event was discovering The Doors. It introduced me to the baritone voice of Jim Morrison and the often cynical, often simple words that made his songs fabulous.

It was a time of realization that some of the best music came from the 60s and 70s. The retrospective era. The era of The Doors.

Be it the cheerful melody of "Love me two times" and "Love her madly", or the more aesthetic "The End", it was the kind of music that would make one fall in love with it.My personal favorite - "L.A. Woman".

With the joy of discovery came the urge to discover more. And along the way, I discovered Pink Floyd.

Pink Floyd stays the numero uno band in my list.The soul quenching music, their progressive tunes, the philosophical lyrics of Roger Waters, the experimental overtures of David Gilmore's guitar, the occasional meandering into the absurd chimes and bells, psychedelic lights and sound effects in their concerts, Rick Wright's extended guitar and keyboard solos...

Need I say more?

One of the reason Pink Floyd entrances me so much is the sheer charisma of each of its band members. It was one of those bands that was overflowing with genius, making an eventual break up inevitable. From the Syd Barette era, where we witnessed songs like Lucifer Sam or Arnold Lane and saw two Psychedelic Rock genres of albums (Piper at the Gate of Dawn and Saucerful of Secrets), to the Roger Waters led era, with amazing Concept albums like Animals, The Final Cut and The Wall.

Sometimes, genius becomes too carried away with itself, which is what happened in Roger Waters' case, leading to a fall out between the band members. What eventually followed, was a David Gilmour era and one of Floyd's top selling albums, Division Bell. Pink Floyd was a band that performed on many many levels and delighted fans on many many more. My personal favorite favorite songs, well everything actually, but to mention just two, "Shine on you crazy diamond" and "Wish you were here".
Consecutively, I began to listen to The Beatles.

The sing song nursery rhyme like lyrics of John Lennon's songs usually had a wit and humor that made this one of the most inspiring bands to listen to. My favorite Beatles songs range from the tripped out "A day in the life", the high spirited "I've got a feeling" to the seductive crooning of "I want you (she's so heavy)".

(Cont'd)

Lights, Camera, Ecstasy!

2007-12-09T00:23:00.000-08:00

I love movies.

A movie, unlike mindless television, presents a concept - it packs it neatly, adds the essential cinematography, the philosophy and the background score - to make it appealing and complete by itself. The odd two and half hours tells you a story in its entirety - it does not finish with a "to be continued", does not interrupt you with mindless commercials ( unless you watch it on television, and mind you, I don't!), and isn't selling you anything, other than what it intends to sell - the story.

It is therefore no doubt that I love movies. Surprisingly, I realized I haven't enlisted my favorite ones anywhere. And that is exactly what I aim to do now.

I was wondering if I should I classify these movies based on their genres - as drama, suspense, action, etc. Or should I just rank them from 1 to 30. But while I was coming up this list, I hit upon a slightly different type of classification, based purely, on what kind of movie i like.

Here it is then, for your browsing interests:

1) Movies with guns:

We all love those, don't we? The man turns and he under his trenchcoat he is packing a big one that goes, "Baaam! Baaam! Baaam!", and blood flows relentlessly.

When I talk about movies with guns, I am talking about movies with power. Movies with gangsters, to be precise. And the King of all such movies is The Godfather.

But if you ask me what my favourite gangster movie is, I would have to say, Road to Peredition. Something about the quiet melancholy the movie projects appeals to me in a way no other movie does. Also it has arguably one of the best background scores. And to top it all, a star cast that consists of Tom Hanks, Daniel Craig and Jude Law, to name a few. This movie here, is thus my all time favourite gangster movie.

A close second comes Donnie Brasco.

The interaction between Al Pacino and Johnny Depp is phenomenol. Two of my favourite actors sharing screen space and chemistry, with a brilliant plot! Simply superb.

Other movies to follow are Scarface and Goodfellas. Both are movies with very powerful characters and powerful storylines.I did see quite a few other movies of the same genre, the closest being, "We own the Night", starring Jaquelin Phoenix. It was pretty impressive, yes. But nothing, and I believe, nothing can beat the classics I have mentioned above, and for that reason alone, I haven't watched American Gangster, which is playing in theatres now. And I stick by my decision.

2) Movies with Style:

When it comes to style, no movie in history will ever achieve what Pulp fiction has attempted. And this, incidentally, stands as my favourite movie of all times. Every line in the movie, every character, and every background chord defines the style and pace of this movie that righteously deserved its Oscar - despite competitions like Shawshank Redumption and Forest Gump.

Other movies with style, that are my favourites would be True Romance (which tries to carry off the sparks of Pulp Fiction and somewhat fails), Snatch (A Guy Ritchie movie), Sin City, Grindhouse, Kiss Kiss BAng Bang, Kill Bill series, Blow, The Doors and Almost Famous.

I would like to say a bit about the last two. Unlike the others, these movies talk about music. And the style it propogates. The Doors by Oliver Stone, is one of the most well shot movies, with the amazing background score of the doors themselves, and a hint of mystery which only Stone himself could have achieved.

But the Ace of the pack is Almost Famous.

dsssdddddd

An observant and fun filled look at rock 'n roll culture, it takes you through the nuances of the era and yet leaves you with an objective perspective. Another of my favourite movies.

3) Movies with Brains:

Some people would wonder why watch a movie that makes you think too much. Those people, please get off my blog page.

I love movies that stimulate your intellect. Movies that make you go, fuck! How the hell did they think of that?And the list of those kinda movies begins with Fight Club.

Yes, its based on a book. And yes, movies based on books are always more sensible, more refined, more intelligent.

Same with fight club.
The movie is filled with brilliant lines.Its the kind of movie you can't take your eyes off, for fear of missing something. Or the kind of movie, you have to inch forward to, so that you don't miss any of the narrators incessant monologue.

An example of its class is the first scene of the movie when Brad Pitt puts a gun to Edward Norton's head and asks him if he has something to say. Edward Norton replies, "I can't think of anything to say".

The rest of the movie is a flash-back, and we return to the same scene and Brad pitt's question with the gun. This time, Edward Norton says, "I still can't think of anything to say".

Brad Pitt looks away, smiles and says, "Flash-back Humour".

Classic scene with a dose of intelligence that might be lost on a few.

Another movie with brains which I feel was great, was The Matrix. Its concept was brilliant! Part 1, I mean. I hate sequels as a rule, and there has only been two exception to that rule - the Kill Bill series, and The Back to the Future series.
Other smart movies I liked were Batman Begins, Memento, The Prestige and V for Vendatta.

4) Movies with heart:

The list begins with Shawshank Redemption.

I have stated, even earlier, that movies based on books are usually good. And one based on Stephen King's book, definitely makes its way to the top of my list. This movie, about hope, friendship and retribution, is the most beautiful movie to ever be made.Also in the list is Forrest Gump, Finding Neverland, Big Fish and Scent of a woman.

Big Fish, a movie about tall tales told by an ordinary man,is the kind of movie that brings a tear to your eye, and makes you feel young and nice at its end. Also bringing a similar feel good factor is The Green Mile, another movie based on a Stephen King book, which excels in its narration and screenplay.

5) Movies with reality:

Crash tops this list, with its observant look at racism in America.
The subtle significances in this movie became apparent to me only when I came to the States myself. For different reasons, I found American Beauty appealing. It was a look at American families and how they are disfunctional, but hey, everybody has watched that one.

What everybody wouldn't have seen, and should, is Trainspotting. It is a look at drug abuse - the kind of movie you would find revolting, unless you have actually been a part of the scene yourself. And in that scenario, you will just be thankful its over.

6) Movies with mindless nothings:

The list begins with the Back to the future Series.

And follows up with movies like Road Trip (for some reason, I like that movie - its mindless, and its got beautiful naked chicks), Old School(same reasons as before) and the American Pie series.

The kind of movies you can just watch, and not think, and have a few laughs while you do so. Unfortunately, I have felt that humor is deriding in Hollywood movies, and getting more and more retarded with time.These days, funny seems to be all about putting something nasty in somebody's food.

But a few movies, do still make a difference. Like The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Big Lebowski. But they are few and far away, and we can only wait for a time when Hollywood would come up with genuinely funny concepts.

7) Movies with hype:

Every once in a while a movie comes along that everybody is talking about. They tell you its brilliant, that its splendid. You can't wait to get your hands on it. And when you finally watch it, you wonder what the hype was all about?

Magnolia tops the list for me. The movie that everybody claims is magnificent. I watched it filled with expectations. I felt it was a wannabe movie. Trying too hard to be Oscar material.

The Departed joins the bandwagon of over-hyped movies for me. It was made for the Oscars, and probably won it, because Martin Scorcesse has deserved one for a long time. And yet, I wonder, didn't Blood Diamond deserve it more?

Other such movies were Hotel Rwanda and The Pianist. The problem with these movies, I felt, was that half an hour into the movie, I get the point. That they are trying to survive. But I don't want to see that for the next two, sometimes three hours. With nothing beyond that? Surely, movies are supposed to propagate a concept aren't they?

Requiem for a Dream, another movie about drug abuse, with all the things wrong that Trainspotting had right. It leaves you depressed and sad, but other than that, is not proving a point. Not telling you anything, and not even providing entertainment at that. Thus how much ever the critics like it, this movie is a strict no for me.

8) Movies from Bollywood :

I grew up on a diet of Shahrukh movies. Its treachery not to mention them, at least in passing. But instead of lurking over these insufferably bad attempts by Bollywood, lets move on to some of their good ones.

My favourite movies: Waisa bhi hota hai Part-2, (starring Arshad Warsi) - if you get your hands on this DVD, WATCH it!!! Other good hindi movies I like are Andaz Apna Apna, Kabhi haan kabhi naa (yes, Shahrukh, I had to mention him at least once), and ofcourse Rang De Basanti.

With that my map of my favourite movies is complete. I watch new movies almost everyday. But this is the top list, and in most probability will remain so.

And if I ever do come across a spectacular movie,

I will let you know.

An Ode to the Constant Reader

2007-11-28T10:07:00.000-08:00

Almost a year, I have written, and the constant reader has read. Absolutely delighted, I have written much more, and much more, the constant reader has read. Sometimes, I forced it down the reader's throat, ostentatiously marking my blog updates in orkut (being the exhibitionist that I am). And yet, the constant reader has stuck by me, for most times, and has played friend, critic,lover, sympathizer and anonymous stalker with equal zeal.

The other day, a friend questioned my declaration of a comment as "arguably one of the best" in my blog. And I hastened to point out my diplomatic usage of the words, "ONE" of the best". But it got me thinking, and I realized, that credit has long been due to all you lovely folks who keep coming back to the world of "only ficus".

This now, is an attempt, to list a few of those folks who keep reading, and who give me enough food for thought to write the next line, the next update and the next post. I have tried to encompass a list here, but if I left anyone out, the error is all mine :D.

It begins with Shruthi(chinks/Lizzie Borden). Regular reader and commentor, she is also the person who introduced me to the world of Blogging. And on those early days, when nobody knew the existence of this blog, she kept me rolling with her inspirational lines. Her comments did not always follow protocol, and were subject to complete randomness, but it was her interest and effort that jump started my blog, and in all probablity, renewed my interests in writing.

And then there were the next wave of readers, like Salman, Rahul and Chaitu (Maddy), who left their little quotes and lines, and propelled me towards believing that the stuff I wrote was readable. That was, and has been my biggest challenge and fear. That everything I write should be very readable.

Next came Akhtar, with his laconic (and sometimes, curt) one-liners, that never failed to make me feel good. If an IIM graduate could enjoy it, there was no doubt. My work definitely, had a bit of intellectual pull in it that attracted him!

And suddenly, when I was least expecting it, came this:

"hey..! i stumbled across ure blog, a case of serendipity u mite say..(u seem to like the notion of love a lot, but i hope u didnt like the tearjerker of a horrendous movie of the same name..!) and i think u write really really well..reading ure posts, one thing that i've imbibed is that i now have a new found respect for stephan king, who my left brain had typecast as a morbid writer who derived sadistic pleasure out of scaring the living daylights out of ppl..! anyways looking at ure style i think u might like a bit of jjaser forde books too..give them a shot if u can.. and thanks for those woody allen classics..! one of my personal woody allen faves, another one abt 'god' he says.. " If u want to make god laugh,tell him your future plans"! keep writing..!

ps: btw jus to break ice, i'm shakti, one of veera's good friends."

Shakti Swaminathan, whom I met through my blog went on to become one my best friends in a short span of time.We shared movies, philosophy, and comments on each other's blogs.Indeed, writing is for writing, and not for getting famous, or making friends. But I cannot deny that I met the best people in my life through my blog. And that, by itself, has been worth everything!

Then came the second wave of people I met through blogosphere. Aditi (daydreamingoracle), Proma and Atashi among them. I got hooked on to some of their writings too. And their comments always inspired me to think a lot more. Aditi, for instance has this devilish side to her, and she comes up with the most vague and unthought of angle to my story. I chat with these folks now, and probably am building a bond that will last a lifetime!

And then there were the other readers.

Like a certain Ram, an Arun Nandi, and Jayashree, whom I hope will be the new wave readers, and whom I hope to keep interested in the rest of my writing.

Also to credit, are Jasleen and Tajpreet, who are usually my first readers ( apart from Shak, ofcourse), who give their valuable comments in first person. (My usual belief is, if they can understand it... anyone can...lol, kidding sorry sorry :D)

Other people close to my heart, like Lea, Nithya and Kunal keep making appearances and refuse to leave their valuable comments...or do it sparingly. But I know you are reading it, and that keeps me content :D. Ofcourse, Kunal tends to play the critic, and I tend to ignore :P.

Perhaps, this little attempt to thank the constant readers is an exercise in vanity. But I believe that putting this kind of a constant effort on something for the last one year (and for the first time in my life), is something to be proud of. And I would like to share this pride...

with you.

On Writing

2007-10-06T04:22:00.001-07:00

I was reading "On Writing" by Stephen King, and came across these two quotes about the beauty of writing. I felt compelled to add it, now that I have a random blog that caters to the very need.

And thus goes one of them,

"Writing is like the water of life! The water is free.
So drink.
Drink up lads, and be filled up!"

It appealed to me because it kind of hinted that writing wasn't an impossibly difficult task. Just like water, it was plentiful. What was really required, was an attempt to visit the word-pool, and fish out your story.

Writing does make one happy. ( Please, let me just harp on it one last time). It might not have any existential value, but it does bring value to your existence! This particular quote was simple, yet hit the nail on the head.

The second quote, which talks about the power of writing goes this way,

"There are no miraculous breakthroughs in writing. Just the ordinary miracles that come with an attempt to create something."

I encounter these ordinary miracles each time I attempt to write.You start off with no idea where you are heading, but before long, you have the characters speaking to you, deciding their own course of action. Its almost as if the story tells itself.

And sometimes, I am amazed. Ordinary miracles such as these, make me happy.

The need to diversify.

2007-10-05T05:20:00.000-07:00

Since January of this year I worked diligently upon my blog.Along the way, I discovered that writing gives me the kind of happiness that is permanent, and not dependent on how people perceive me, or react to me in the real world.

In my blog I was the king. The hero. And people I met, at college, through orkut, or through other means told me they enjoyed some of my writing, and it got me more and more hooked.

A trip to India, where I spent time with some of my closest friends, discussing philosophies, mediating, debating (and downing galleons of tea, sometimes coupled with gastric disorders), made me realize that if there was ever a true vocation I would enjoy, it would be writing.

The masters degree in computer science, and consecutively a job in the computer industry ( if I were lucky or unlucky), would be routine, a mandatory option I will have to opt for, because of the path of least resistance I have followed until now.

But as Jude Law says in Road to Perdition, "You get paid to do what you love! Ain't that the dream?"

With a dream ahead, I see the need to diversify. To attempt fiction, and at the same time, keep a journal of thoughts and ideas that would propel me towards this hazy conquest.

And thus, becomes inevitable, a creation of two parallel blogs.

In keeping with the tradition of Nothing but ficus, I bring you, Nothing but Fictitious, an attempt at fiction. And a smaller, tidbits filled journal - Nothing But Factoids.

As the English poet John Donne said,

"Pleasure is none, if not diversified.”