I never thought i would do it. I have just finished reading the first 'FULL' novel in my entire life.

Animal Farm, by George Orwell - An allegorical pointer at the totalitarian world that existed, then. Explicitly anti-totalitarian in its content, ratified by the fact that Orwell admitted that his works post 1935 have by and large been anti-totalitarian given his staunch leftist views. However, I would not go as far as suggest that it lampoons the Soviet way of living.

Next stop, '1984', Orwell. Knowing that somewhere in 1984 it was around this day that something happened.

lil' johhny did play....

he had just tried to sort out the code that was behaving wickedly with him.. both he and his boss tried to set it right.. however both knew that however hard they tried, it wasn't gonna happen that day.. it was just that sort of a day.. so a quick goodbye exchanged, he ambled down the stairs from the 8th to the ground.. and then out on to mg road to become a part of a flourishing culture.. a waitingatasignal cult.. he drove along mg road and on seeing the brigade road traffic signal tempting him with its green form, he clasped the accelerator and raised it outta anticipation.. he felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket... ignoring it he moved ahead like a man on a mission...as he was close to the line of control, the hideous chameleon of a signal changed color and became red even without its customary intermediate orange... hands on brakes.. all might all bite used.. the bike stopped like an insane horse tranquillized mercilessly.. 150 seconds the count read.. damn it he said.. another sick journey laced with a million stops.. involuntarily his hands went to his pocket and he verified whether it was a life threatening call or message... it was a message... 'Dont forget to recharge!' it read.. hmmm, yeah he thought.... moments later, the signal changed color and twas time to step on the gas.. in a jiffy it was cubbon road... and then came the minsk square signal.. the air temperature suddenly dropped and without even the slightest warning it started pouring!! he could see few two wheelers getting scattered under trees and few other brave equipped ones donning the monsoon wear set for the battle ahead.. he had a choice.. on one hand twas his mother holding a ruler in her hand asking him to evacuate the road and move under a shelter.. on the other hand, was the accelerator all charged up waiting to be pounded... the next thing he could remember was that he was at the high point signal at the end of raj bhavan road a sole two wheeler sorrounded by mighty four wheelers.. dripping wet, head to toe.. the uneasy water drops seeping through fabric and causing that eerie chill as it touched the skin.. he removed his wrist watch and shoved it into his pocket and checked whether the cellphone was cosy.. it would manage to find a dry spot he thought and pulled his visor down and sped across the golf course at 65 kmph.. the rain was relentless and had reached a peak.. a peak which only seemed to be rising he felt.. through the visor all he could see was spots of light looking beautiful as it dispersed throgh the raindrops hitting his visor...one spot appeared abnormally huge and before he could analyze its size, he grabbed hold of his brake and just about managed to survive.. just about... abuses exchanged, he kept moving.. the rain kept throwing its kitchen sink at him and he kept piercing through it.. along came guttahalli and vyalikaval... as he approached sampige road.. he was a wet guy.. he threw his bike into the parking lot.. disembarked and went straight to the store and asked for a recharge card.. he was panting... incoherent... uninterested in talking.. mohan uncle at the shop was stunned and asked.. 'why dya want a recharge that badly in the rain man? you couldve taken it tomorrow right..' he gave mohan uncle a dry smirk, and replied.. 'give it to me fast uncle, my granny is waiting at home with rava idlis!'.. and then he disappeared into the crowd like the river into the sea... nothing official about it.. nothing factual either

there are somethings in life which cannot be bound by the walls of explanation or logic.. such things cannot be ascribed a measurable value of greatness, they simply have to be felt and preserved in the pure chambers of the soul, like delicate morning dew housed on a soft petal...

And some people are gifted with divine vocal cords they say, and few others the power to feel enchanted by the ethereal melodies arising out of them.. Case in point: Clio Karabelias, Harpist, singer.. Clio and Hamid khan, a sitar maestro himself, cast a spell on the listeners at the arena during a performance at the Fireflies festival of sacred music.. I had no clue what she was singing but my senses seemed to resonate and focus at a precise spot in a heavenly realm, a feeling which im sure is second to none.. unfathomable.. a goddess holding a magic wand and conjuring up ribbons of happiness effortlessly.. making the audience do things what they could never have imagined to do.. glide in the sea of pristine tranquility... words cannot do justice to the work of Clio Karabelias and Ustad Hameed Khan.. I'm blessed, to say the very least...

Amen

Cries and whispers (Viskningar och rop)...

I remember having seen this movie way back in the seventh semester.. i dont think it made such an impact then.. yes, it was a painful movie but then i did not dwell much into the underlying layers...for the next 2 years, i did not associate Viskningar och rop with a typical 'bergmanesque' movie.. smultronstallet and persona came along the way and they made were mammoth movies which hit me real hard.. but today, i just picked up a review of c&w by James Berardinelli.. the review and trust me when i say a one page review alone pummeled me so hard...all those 'insignificant' details bout the movie which i thought had forgotten appeared in front of me in such a vivid manner.. i just cant wait to watch the movie again... damn.. i then realize ive misplaced the dvd... f*** f*** f*** f*** f***!!!!

Anyway.. few awesome things bout the review...

Shakespeare referred to death as "the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns".

Death is gradual

The process of dying is not only the last stage we go through in this life, but often the most traumatic. For most people, death takes time. To be sure, there are some who expire suddenly and unexpectedly, but, in general, death is gradual. And, during those last days, the dying individual will experience moments of great clarity revealing transcendent beauty, and times of bleakness staring into the black maw of eternity. Ultimately, no matter how many friends and loved ones may be by our side, the last step must be undertaken alone. "To be or not to be?" is only an ephemeral question. The final answer is unalterable.

There is a fine tradition in American cinema that the victims of terminal diseases become increasingly beautiful and serene as the moment of their expiration approaches. Bergman offers no such false comfort here. Those who have seen a loved one die of cancer know that it is a gut-wrenchingly painful experience.

Bergman is quoted as saying, "All my films can be thought of in terms of black and white except for Cries and Whispers. In the screenplay, it says that red represents for me the interior of the soul."

In order to understand why Cries and Whispers is a great film, it must be experienced, not merely watched.

The complete review can be read here and here.

He thought he was God, but for once he felt a human chill run down his spine...

A visual feast.. layers of emotions wrapped one over the other... characters displayed with unreal precision.. the spartan nonchalance vs the persian tyranny.. the spartan helmets, Lyonadis's swagger, Xerxes's eyes, the blood, the persian whores, the war elephants, the love making, the wolf's eyes, the darkness, Ephialtes, the differential lighting, the corpses, the captain's bloodthirst on astinos's death, the creatures, the ephors, the oracle, the persian navy, the sea gulls, the council, the use of time-dilation, the spears, the arrows, the shields... treat to the eye.. not for the faint hearted.. u can never shed a tear on this one....

Prepare for Glory!
HO HO HO!!!

the devil in me head has disappeared.. at least temporarily.. so whilst the sky is blue , a quick composition for sweet memories and posterity.. the name is Mark Cullen.. president Exeter group..around 2:30 in the afternoon.. conference room..awesome talk.. bowled over by him..some ppl simply dont cease to amaze me.. very few of them i must confess.. this dude was up there... a man barely 40 yrs old, the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice..confidence personified.. phew phew phew.. want to get there.. lets see if mother nature agrees.. or maybe fate has something else in store.. back to some queensryche now... no more Amon Duul.. surprised?? me surprised too ;).. so is my mom.. she can sleep peacefully from now on.. no more kraut.. for tonight at least.. god bless the world...

for a change
Vetrivel muruganukku, Haro Hara!!!

date 18th Aug. MG Road
Was busy doin my assignments, when a friend o mine skyped me. Details of the message apart, she had her skype icon as 'Pingu' the penguin...Instead of replyin back, i was lost in the thoughts of good ol days when pingu used to be screened on DD2, if i am not wrong.. And as i am typin this post, I am recollecting those days..A flurry of thoughts cross my mind, memories that i seem to vividly remember..twas like all these things happened yesterday.. All those cartoons on cartoon network: popeye and scooby doo that i used to never miss before hurryin to schoool, those petty quarrels with my sister for the 'young world' supplement on saturdays.. those short breaks and lunch breaks in school when we used to eat our lunch so fast so that we could play cricket on the terrace a lil more..i remembered my automan too, a guy called 'Madhi', the guy wo still remembers me each time i see him near his house.. also the day i cried when my best friend Sagar left school in class VII.. All those cricket coaching camps that i used to enthusiatstically ditch midway each summer holiday, those good ol days when my dad used to take my sis and me to either cubbon park or lal bagh each weekend..those days of love those days of hatred, those days of joy those days of sorrow, those days when i used to laugh and those i would sob... however cliched this post may sound, i have to admit it that it has bought a tear in my eye as i type this..all those streets in malleshwaram that i have walked on... glad i am still in malleshwaram.. it is where i wanna be for now and years to come..I could go on and on but let us continue with our work and save memories to be unravelled in small installments...

18 and life You got it
18 and life you know
Your crime is time and it's
18 and life to go

-18 and life(Skidrow)

Amen