Our Tryst With Destiny

The air is pregnant with anticipation now ...

When we found that Shreya was pregnant the two of us had distinctly different reactions. She, being the emotional one, was overjoyed, could scarcely contain the news to herself and started painting visuals in her dreams of what was to come. I, being the practical one, was happy no doubt, but more contemplative; for the "future" which had been nothing more than a subject of casual conversation with friends, was well and truly present ... 

It took time for this piece of information to sink in, slowly but surely though, our lifestyle changed.  Our friends took notice. Some guessed the news and some heard it from us. We moved into a beautiful house and started gathering furniture. Our friends threw us an awesome baby shower. Every gift that we got just added to Shreya's excitement.

She has tried her level best to enjoy every moment of the pregnancy.  I guess, it just comes naturally to her. She leaves the worrying to me. That way, at least one of us has a good time :). 

The morning sickness in the first trimester couldn't wipe out the constant smile on her face. The obvious restrictions on diet and activity which come with pregnancy didn't flinch her enthusiasm. She willingly held back herself from social events knowing that she'd get another chance later. She immersed herself in the prenatal Yoga classes, enjoyed her photo-shoot and made sure that we followed every small tradition that was possible being away from India. She has counted every hiccup and cherished every kick that the baby has provided with glee.

The last month though, has been particularly challenging for her with the weight of the baby increasing around an ounce a day. Along with a number of family members, she made the cardinal error of assuming that her pregnancy would follow the same track as her mother's and expected to get done much sooner than the 40 week deadline. She's essentially been on a self-proclaimed countdown from the 36th week ... an ungrateful brute that keeps resetting callously :)

She bears a cheerful countenance, but one can easily spot the weariness creeping in. Our friends check up on her constantly and try to keep her in good spirits. At home we try to keep her engaged with different projects so as to kill time but every evening the prayer she offers at the altar is no longer silent.

She looks at me with an expression that says "why can't you solve this problem", which is funny and sad at the same time. Our doctor says we are in the "any day" zone now. I've started working from home so that I can be around her. 

The house is set, the gadgets are waiting, the Accord's fuel tank is full and we are probably as ready as we are ever going to be ...

... It's time, my little princess! Wish you can hear me :)

#Chennai Express Follow-Up

This is a follow up to the previous post ... don't judge a book by it's cover they say ... so true!

The trailer of Chennai Express had become unbearable due to Deepika's fake Tam accent. In the movie you get used to it in no time, because unlike SRK's Tam accent in in Ra.One which had a mind of its own, her accent stays true throughout the movie.

She gets top billing in the credits (even above SRK) and thats the way it should be. She has overshadowed the superstar in practically all scenes that they have together. The one stand-out scene is where she gets possessed by a ghost ... literally kick ass!

SRK is strategically reduced to a cartoon, spoofing himself throughout the movie. But it takes guts to do that and to give his co-star the center stage.

The movie itself is a maybe a shade better than Rohit Shetty's Golmaal series. Nothing much to write about except the full house it drew for a matinee show in Austin. What stays with you after the movie is just DP's performance.

Faith restored! ... 

#ChennaiExpress

I am a genuine fan of Deepika Padukone as a commercial cinema actress.

In the world of Bollywood, dominated by star kids and foreign imports, I feel Asin and Deepika are two actresses who are pretty reasonable in their craft - look beautiful, dance well and can actually deliver their lines in fluent Hindi. I've heard several complaints from friends, family and colleagues about Deepika ... to name a few in no specific order

1. Her Hindi has a South-Indian accent.

I confess I can't spot it. By accent you have to prove that it is as evident as Sridevi's or Hema Malini's. If not, then I just don't buy this argument. Besides, a statistical analysis of the chasteness of spoken Hindi of Indian residents born/brought up south of the Vindhyas should more than prove that this point is moot.

2. She mugs up her lines and vomits them on screen.

Surprise! How many model-turned-actresses can even do that decently? I admit this is a weak defense, but I defer to my opening statement. I'm a fan of hers as far as commercial cinema is concerned. If you look at her performances objectively and chronologically, you'll notice that the rough edges are smoothing out as far as dialogue delivery goes.

3. She is very irritating.
4. She is too thin.
5. She laughs in a weird way.

I'm not even sure how to start defending these, because these reasons are highly subjective and to an extent childish. Isn't every actor bound to have quirks?

So after defending her so vigorously, she goes ahead and does something like this #ChennaiExpress trailer ... and it just brutally betrays a loyal fan like myself. All my friends who complained about her Hindi accent will now poke fun at how bad her fake Tam accent is! All of them who say she vomits her lines on screen will get all the proof they need, because she is genuinely blurting out her lines due to that weird accent.

Sigh!

What is faith without a test after all. I'm going to stay my ground. Bracing myself for the brickbats and rotten tomatoes from the non-believers ...

Do you even speak English?

This afternoon we got a phone call. An unknown number with a Houston area code. My wife picked up. Our home phone is pretty loud so I could make out that it wasn't a regular call. Most likely some telemarketer. She got suspicious when the woman on the other side started asking her about our vehicle so she handed me the phone.

There was some disturbance on the line and I couldn't figure out what the lady was trying to ask about our car, so I politely asked her to repeat herself to which I got a statement thrown at me in a southern drawl - "Sir, I don't understand what you are saying. Do you even speak English?"

In a split second, the memories came screaming back. I was walking up to Holzapfel Hall across the M circle on the University of Maryland campus. One of the many departments resident in that hall is the Maryland English Institute. The University offloads the task of conducting English speaking tests for prospective TAs to this department.

During the first semester of my Master's degree, when all of us were hunting for assistantships, getting a 1/2 TA was a very realistic option for ECE majors. One of the pre-reqs for being awarded the TA was to pass the MEI test.

I'd given my test that morning. All it consisted of, was a chat with two of their staff members. They basically asked me a bunch of casual questions related in no way to teaching. I needed the assistantship badly and my mind was engrossed trying to figure out what courses I could pick on the prospective TA form; never once thinking about the pre-requisite.

I went up to the MEI office and asked for my result so that I could attach it to the form before submitting it to the ECE Graduate Office. But the paper I got in my hand was nothing short of a hundred slaps on my face. I had been deemed ineligible by the MEI staff to teach based on my speaking skills! No explanations were offered but a recommendation was made to take a course with the MEI to "improve" my English speech.

Not only was this the first time in my entire life that I had technically failed a test but also a declaration that 16 years of formal education in the English medium had been deemed insufficient to talk about Rectifiers and Amplifiers in front of a bunch of disinterested undergrads!

I was beyond furious. I remember walking back to the student union in utter disbelief and taking the next bus home because I couldn't figure out what was happening. This was fairly early in the semester and I didn't really have many friends on campus apart from my room-mates who weren't home. Not that they could believe what had happened when they eventually got to know about it. It was a rude shock, perhaps the most brutal of the many I received as a first semester grad student.

During the course of the next two semesters I saw several other foreign TAs struggle with their language which just rubbed salt on my wounds, but I couldn't debase myself further to take the MEI course. A year later I was working with a professor who recommended me to the ECE Department for the TA and this time I magically passed! The irony or the politics aside, I never got over the fact that the MEI had failed me in an English speaking test.

And so when this lady asked me if I even spoke English, I gave her a piece of my mind (without using a single swear word ... the MEI would approve) before disconnecting the line ...

Food For Thought

I'd like to claim I'm not a fussy eater. Yes, I do not experiment much, but I have been taught to respect food and to finish everything that was served to me on my plate. Yet every now and then, there are some impossible choices that are offered to me and I've to think quickly to try and weasel out of the situation.


Q. डब्यात दोडका हवा का भोपळा?
A. मी Ketchup किव्हा Jam नेतो ना!

Translation

Q. "Do you want 'Ridge Gourd' or 'Pumpkin' in your tiffin box?"

A. "Can I take ketchup or jam instead?"

This is a choice that has been routinely offered to me as a kid by my mother and now by my wife. Needless to say I hate both of them, and I can never pick one over the other. A somewhat similar choice my mother used to give me was between 'Gavar' (cluster beans) and 'Ghevada' (green hyacinth beans). What made this worse was that my father liked both (and still does)! And so this choice was thrown at me typically once every month.


Q. पुरणपोळीवर दूध हवंय की तूप?
A. साधी पोळी आहे का?

Translation

Q. "Do you want milk or ghee on the sweet flatbread?"

A. "Do we have any ordinary flatbread?"

'Puran Poli' is a kind a of sweet flatbread which is usually prepared during festive occasions. It is usually eaten either with Ghee or with Milk. Most people I know would actually take either option with equal liking. I'm some sort of an odd man out here, in that, even before I consider the option, I've to deal with the fact that I don't really like the sweet flatbread and almost always try to find out if there are any ordinary (non-sweetened) flatbreads available.

Q. खीर गरम हवी की गार?
A. रोहितला दे! माझं पोट भरलंय.

Translation

Q. "Do you want the Vermicelli pudding warm or chilled?"
A. "Give it to Rohit. I'm too full"

Kheer (Vermicelli/Rice pudding) is called by different names in different parts of the country. Most people love it. Unfortunately I don't. It's primary component is milk and that's where things start going south.

When we were kids, we didn't get canned milk. Also, there was no concept of 1% or 2% reduced fat milk. If the milk tasted watery it was probably because it was adulterated! So the first thing we'd do when we got the milk in the morning was to boil it.

Hot milk (or any other delicacy based on hot milk) forms a layer of  cream on top of the liquid. My father loves it ... It barely goes down my throat without bringing tears to my eyes. From childhood, you'd either develop an extreme liking to milk or an extreme distaste for it. As the cream went down your throat it was a miracle if you didn't choke, gag or feel like throwing up.

And so a choice between hot and cold kheer didn't really matter because some part of the brain had developed a block against it any form of milk with suspended blackboxes. Luckily for me, my brother pretty much eats anything that is sweet. So it wasn't hard to push the bowl of Kheer towards him.


What's common to all three responses is the look of disgust that my mother gave me!

Naan Varuven ...

When I had her captive for so long, she fought me with all her might ...
When I told her what he had done, she didn't flinch in her loyalty ...
When I spared his life and freed her, she didn't look back even once ...
Why then did she return ... 

Now that she has unequivocally responded to my feelings ...
Now that I have finally realized the meaning of my life ... 
Why then is the ground slipping below my feet ... 
Why then do I feel the unshakable tug of Fate ... 

All I wanted was a fair chance ... 
All I wanted was to know that she liked me ... 
All I wanted was to live my dream ... 
I shall return ...


Mani Ratnam's Raavan had it's share of controversies with several 'devout' Hindu groups claiming that it cast serious aspersions on the character of Lord Ram, who embodies the quintessential man, a role model for all mankind as depicted in the epic Ramayana. It didn't do great business at the box office and lesser critics threw their hollow punches at the movie. Subjectively though, this movie reached out to me at several levels.

Like most people I prefer the Tamil version of the movie to the Hindi one. The Hindi version isn't an exact translation of the Tamil movie. There are several key dialogues and lines that have either been edited out or simply not been translated right, giving an incomplete picture of what the director wanted to convey through his characters.

In the climax of the movie when Ragini (Seeta) returns to Veera (Raavan) to ask him what exactly he told her husband Dev (Ram) about her that caused Dev to suspect her. Veera is at once surprised, ecstatic, confused and angry.

1. Surprised because he didn't expect Ragini to come back after he had reluctantly freed her
2. Ecstatic because he realizes Ragini too has developed feelings for him
3. Confused because he doesn't understand why Dev suspected her character
4. Angry because he figures out that Dev has tricked her into locating him

When Dev arrives and raises his gun, Ragini tries to defend Veera, but Veera pushes her out of the way and is shot fatally. Ragini desperately tries to grab his hand as Veera falls off the cliff, not managing to touch her even once in his lifetime vowing to return, in spirit.

There is an absolute gem of a song "Naan Varuven" which is played at this juncture in the movie. Here's a blog which discusses the Tamil lyrics and the technique A. R. Rahman has used in his music.(http://arrahmaniac.blogspot.com/2011/01/naan-varuven.html)

But for me, I looped the DVD again and again over this song almost unable to shake off the haunting melody and words (ask my wife, she'll tell you). 

I've tried to pen down what Veera would have felt as he falls off the cliff in my own words. For some reason this song gives me goose bumps! 

What happens when Fate pulls away the only thing you desire after throwing it in your arms ... 

What happens when you realize that you can't fight back ... 

What do you do as you fall off that cliff ... 

Naan Varuven - Raavanan [HQ] Video Song - YouTube

The Performing Arts

My equation with the performing arts has been interesting.

Vocals

In school I was one of the few boys in my class with half a decent voice to match the girls who actually took singing classes and sang really well. In our annual day functions or parent's day functions it was a done deal to put me in charge of the male alaaps for at least one song. I like singing, but I hated the position I was put in separate from all other boys in the class. The most embarrassing point was when other boys were asked to lip sync the song when I and a few other unfortunate fellows were made to sing it along with daunting collection of half a dozen female class mates who were really good.

My music teacher pleaded with me to keep singing when I left school and reiterated that each time I went back to visit all my teachers. I never did that of course.

Instrumental

Also during school, I was learning to play the "Tabla" - (an Indian classical percussion instrument). This I actually liked. It was very thrilling to provide musical accompaniment for all the school programs. My school principal had even noticed me multiplexing between several instruments during some of these functions and passed on the praise to my teachers. I cleared three exams too ...

... But after learning it for 6 years, I got bored. After playing the same 'Kayda's and 'Rela's over and over again I got bored. It was inevitable. I never did the due practice 'riyaaz' that is essential to not only better one's skill but also to develop a lifelong bond with the instrument. And so, I used the crazy schedule of my 10th standard year as a pretext to let go of my biweekly class.

Dance

Thankfully this is an art form that parents only thrust upon their daughters in India. That I have two left feet would be an understatement. I can't even follow steps cleanly. I think dwelling on this will simply make things worse. Moving on ...

Drama

This is one avenue I thoroughly enjoy. Theater is something that enjoys generous support among Maharashtrian Brahmins. In school I used to eagerly look forward to participating in skits. The number of skits dramatized was lamentable as teachers usually preferred their students to perform a dance or sing a song. I attribute this solely to the fact that it was easier for the teachers to get the girls to perform than it was for the boys in the class.

There were instances though. I got the chance to act and direct our class play in Marathi and when the Principal decreed that we should perform it in English for our Parent's Day (due to an overwhelming presence of regional language performances that year), I got the chance to translate the dialogues and direct it again in English.

In engineering college we did a Marathi play in our second year. We were extremely fortunate to get a director of the caliber of Devendra Pem ("All The Best") work with us novices. The show was a runaway success, but that was it. Didn't get another chance for several years ...

Until recently when I managed to pick up those thread again and got a role in two plays. Found a great bunch of friends along the way as well.

What's next though? With a baby on the way, I can't continue at the same intensity. And after a break will I get another chance? Or even if there is an opportunity will I actually take it? Time will tell ...