சர்வம் தாளமயம் – Refreshingly Rythmic

I have not watched a musical for a long time now. They don’t make classic musicals any more.

But ‘சர்வம் தாளமயம்’ bought back poignant moments in a musical journey which stands out as simple, light hearted and make-you-feel-good drama with an outstanding soundtrack, which in many ways describes A R Rahman – The Master Composer.

Carnatic Music with a blend of vocal magic and art of percussion instruments. I love the semblance of anything which is connected to our roots, and this is just so apt.

Thank you Rajiv Menon, for giving us a glimpse of the ‘Mozart of Madras’, just like old days.

The Story of Love

Love isn’t your essentials today, it’s a feeling of abounds and benefits, especially with our generation. We don’t believe in classics, our roots are more inclined towards lust and insatiable components (sex is one of them).

Just hold on before you judge me. I am not an anti-love person. In fact, I am a great believer in love per se. But, love isn’t the most sweetest, isn’t the most glorious and isn’t the most vivacious emotion in your life, as it is famously depicted and air-played in our lives. I am not counting the success stories yet, but failures have had a greater impact in my life.

Great, legendary stories of live are the ones that failed miserably and were considered ‘forbidden’ in the legacy of a society. Reasons could be plenty, but what it does prove is that love equally vulnerable to the whims and fancies of the kind of world we live and breathe in. That’s why, failures matter. Such admonishment throws a jinx around which propels people to believe that they might succeed if they do things differently. But, a game to dismantle cannot establish the torrid affairs of human inconsistencies. Human beings are naive, weak and just cannot cope with this battle between love and it’s adjacent factors of ‘status quo’.

As we are generally made to believe and as infamously displayed over by the media and our own unscrupulous society, Love isn’t the indispensable ‘Jesus’ of our times. In fact, quite the opposite. If there is a punching bag for the critics, then it has to be’Love’. Though ‘Love’ claims to be unanimously unbiased, devoid of prejudices, caste, creed and religion, languages and cultures, it remains to been seen if ‘Love’ could come out of its impoverished reputation.

Love has allies – Sex, lust, brood, jealousy, money, power… The list might seem endless as long as you are willing to accept the fact that love is beyond the borders of invincibility, quite tenable, brittle and devastatingly broken between man and his heart. Heart still beats, but love continues to fade away amidst evil tentacles that surrounds our dispensable lives.

Fall in love, but don’t fall for the perils associated with this divine and absolutely torrid encounters. You can give up your heart but life is another game for a different latitude to play around. Not for this one, if I am to be asked.

Paradise in Mayhem – S01E01

Bereaved and Isolated

It was death all around, else people would be waiting for the final colossus to come to them and take them away with a whisker of a smile.

It was the time of hatred, just more hatred. We had no time for others, because sooner or later, they will perish and the perils will come chasing.

We waited for our turn. Yes, we are trying to make amends, steal away bit of thunder from the apocalypse and turn a blind eye to the slaughter game that’s tormenting us – when we are awake and when we are not asleep.

The cries, the agony, the contempt, the betrayal, the animosity. This is life, and life is cruel, standing at the pinnacle of failure.

We can see it coming, but we stand still, waiting for the inevitable. Perhaps, something more than just inevitability.

The First Time

Jennifer was equally scared, since her father was a part of the Army and it’s negotiators who were destined for an end that they refuse to see and condemn. 

She is quite an opposite, though. Her mother is her friend and philosopher, but she obviously belongs to a generation that has seen lot of blood and vengeance running through their backyard. She supports her husband, but cares for her daughter and understand that such levels of tedious vibes might as well take a toll on the young girl. She is only 22, and loves poetry.

She is accompanying her mother to the bakery today, its been sometime since she visited the bakery or the main market place, she very fond of fish but her parents don’t buy it often as she has a medical condition and fish is not recommended. But, she still loves them and persuades her mother to get it, at least once in a week. But not when her father is around.

Air of Reluctance

A time of turmoil and prejudice, where human relationships are fragile and time isn’t giving you the space you want to live your life with a feeling of reciprocation. Time is for hatred and terrible things, things you don’t to hear or say or feel, yet all such divisive thoughts get the better of you in  a resplendent, rustic flavour of unjust moments. You remain undecided, people around look pretentious and non conducive, let alone love taking a you turn for such rustic times. Yet, love prevails. Love dangles with a sword in your hand, ready to face the army who is far more powerful and indispensable than you can ever imagine. Yet, love remains your sole and only reason to believe that you will live, and see others live with dignity.

Women of Steel

The year started off with perseverance and oozes of energy.

The story goes like this. Well, it’s not a story to begin with. I must say this, it was an eye opener for mortals like us who just get waned away with dwindled pleasures.

I met 2 women. Well, I can say they are well past their prime. In fact, prime was gone long time ago and here they were, smiling at me, with unsurmountable words of wisdom and a gentle swagger that defines their aura.

These young, old ladies are miracle women to our generation.

One is 97, the other is in the pink of health at 102.

Now, those are staggering numbers.

Age has always been a subject of enigma, distortion and privacy. Face it, we hate getting older. Every birthday is a kind reminder to your ageing lifeline. Yet, we flaunt it with our ego and prejudices. We don’t like being taunted, though.

They have a memory of a whale and the eye of a hawk. They remember everything, doesn’t matter who it is. Like-able or not, memories are still memories.

Memoirs of a 97 year old-

The name of second child of her third grandson, the last time she visited London, birthday dates of almost all family members and an eye for details. If guns were blazing, I would give it to her hands down.

The tale of a 102 year old-

She crossed borders in Rangoon during the war ravaged times, with her children in her arms. But she charms you with her diaspora of memories and faith in God. She had few suggestions for me – take care of your family and respect your parents, they are the reason for our existence and success today.

Words of wisdom these days come in from all quarters but this one was one of it’s kind.

Meeting both of them gives you utmost satisfaction for the very reason we live – to love life.

At this age, I would be sipping Coke in my grave!

Both of them have stark similarities.

They have been through the worst, understand and paved the way through life with limitations and tenacity. Most importantly, they have this insatiable urge to live. And, that is the sole reason for the magic they exude.

Ladies, you aren’t merely the Women we celebrate. You are the giants for generations to look up to and take pride in our tormented and illustrious legacy.

The Reluctant Princess

She was born and raised in a wealthy family. She ever had to worry about anything in life, literally. Born with a silver spoon and platinum cradle, all she had to wait for time to turn towards her path of glory. She had it all, precariously.

She had a penchant for charity and philanthropy at a very young age. She was extremely fond of children, the ailing poor and the differently abled. She had this uncanny ability to connect with people and the masses. Amidst all her flirtations and the gorgeous life she was blessed with, the human candor of one of its kind.

During her college days, she became an avid follower and participant of the charity works the college indulged in. In fact, she made it her own and was integral part of the socio economic genre. Not to forget, she was a brilliant student of academics and life.

In the final year of college, she fell in love with one of her professors and a member of the elite in the state. It was a whirlwind romance, and they got married immediately after. The marriage produced 3 children, and they were the most talked about couple in the town. Well, as it seemed to the naked eye.

The romance and the much adulated marriage turned sour in 5 years. Differences started creeping in their relationship. The professor was accused of infidelity, and she was guilty of neglecting her family values in pursuit of her greater vision. Neither could accomplish the trust and understanding between each other despite multiple attempts of reconciliation from both sides. He was distraught and digressing, she was adamant and falling apart. The marriage was dying. The kids were torn between their parents, and too young to understand the gravity of their parent’s miseries.

She multiplies her philanthropic assignments and starts staying away from home. Under immense scrutiny from friends and relatives, she disjoints herself from all emotional attachments. She however, stays in touch with her children and visits them as and when time permits. After 8 years of marriage and 3 children, their divorce gets finalized by mutual consent.

She moves to a different city, continues with her assignments and projects, visits her children and takes them to vacations. Her assignments and philanthropic work attain immortality as she gains widespread acclaim and adulation in the public eye. But happiness still eludes. She seems to be progressing towards her vision but feels a void inside – mentally and spiritually. She smiles for the people but the sorrow is exquisitely visible.

She starts going around with one of her partners and financiers. Initially friends at work, the relationship grows wherein both start thinking about their future, seriously. She is still not ready, but advances nevertheless. Her former husband and his family feel demolished by her decision. But she doesn’t care. In fact, they both stopped caring for each other years ago. Nothing of substance was left in their relationship.

On a vacation in a cruise with her new found ‘love’, she is trying to bask in the torched sunlight. They look happy with each other.

The same night, a sea cyclone hits their cruise. Badly hit, the cruise sinks. Both of them die in the aftermath, their bodies are recovered the next morning.

Her former husband learns of this accident and exclaims in a typical way. “Death chose her”.

He continues to live with his parents and children in his hometown. He is still wealthy, and owns large businesses in the state. He remains unmarried.

*Inspired by true events

When fear is pain

When he went through the ordeal around the same time last year and came out with a courageous smile, I saluted his tenacity and positivity. I was reassured. He has a long life ahead.

One year down the line, and today, I have been thinking hard. After this phone call, I sat and was sitting for a while. Is that it? A man has all the steel to live, but fate is disposing it all.

I fear losing people who are close to me. In fact, I am shit scared. All my notions and spectacular energy falls flat on my face as this fear is taking me apart. It is pain for him, probably more pain than you and me can ever imagine. But, for me, I am scared.

I still have faith. In God, in whoever and whatsoever that is supreme and all powerful and beyond human. Could be science, could be anything else. I don’t know. But I still believe he will sit upright, stand up and talk to me like he did for the last 17 years.

I don’t want to win battles. I want him to live.

Taramani – Redemption

A ‘run of the mill’ Tamil film is the usual order of the day, but for films like ‘Taramani’ who try to lend a magic hand beyond furnished boundaries.

Don’t literally sit on the title and wane about the correlation. I think correlation lies in the subject, not in the title. In fact, Harry Potter did not make any sense to me till my little sister and the more intelligent sibling taught me the ropes to understand the finer nuances of a novel and it’s biological adaptation.

Coming back to Taramani. Yes, the title has few connected dots to the name of the suburban railway station it is named after, but that’s it. It rather throws light on the vanity of our relationships we practice in our urban lives. Director Ram juggles, protrudes, yells and mingles the eccentricities of human nature. Needless to quip, our lives are a bi product of our desires and foolish needs. And our growing attitudes towards leading life and judging people around by dress rehearsals is another precarious feather in our pervert hat.

Losing love, procuring another one before losing it for sheer stupid reasons of male ego, treating a lady like a substance. ‘Taramani’ deals with sensitive ethos, few of them very real and very inconvenient to have a conversation on. For instance, seldom does a girl talk about her gay husband to an absolute stranger, even if the stranger happens to be overtly receptive. You can, but generally you won’t.

With a screechy script, relevant narration to some irrelevant depictions, some fresh cinematography and stellar performances from the lead actors, ‘Taramani’ is a watchable film.

But ‘Taramani’ tells me an important story – the railway station will live on forever, like our dreams, filth and caricatures.