tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71557198065296890232024-03-05T14:52:28.241+05:30Me and My MadnessArdra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-4799643040256853952011-06-16T15:19:00.002+05:302011-06-16T15:23:41.152+05:30Moving On...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Two months short of a year of hiatus - too bad, I know! But then life is like that I guess. Sometimes it flows, as smooth as Dairy Milk Silk, and sometimes there are far too many roadblocks. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My last post was written in utter hopelessness in a land which is now fonder than it was at that time. I lived there for five months, met a lot of relatives for the first time, got along with them like a house on fire and reaffirmed the family girl tag that I already have. To cut a long story short, I was sad to leave that country, and I never thought it would turn out that way. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But then, I came home! That is always a happy place to be, or so I thought! The syndrome that I spoke about in </span><a href="http://ardramaanasam.blogspot.com/2010/05/back-in-my-nest.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">this</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> post had hit third degree by then - come on, it was almost six months since my course had finished, and here I was, doing NOTHING! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The jobhunt began. All roads seemed to lead me the Manorama way- whether it was the radio interview or the channel one that I attended. In the case of the latter one, the interviewer dug out the good old days of camera friendliness from my resume and asked me to host a show for them - while I had originally applied for the post of an Assistant Producer. And thus began my tryst with architecture. </span><a href="http://www.manoramanews.com/veedu"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Veedu</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> happened. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Big Man Up There has His own ways of surprising me at the times that I need it the most! Veedu was one such opportunity. Since the time I left anchoring with Kairali TV voluntarily in 2007, I never nurtured a wish to face the video camera again. But I remember, once in Dubai, watching Anjana hosting Veedu and parroting her words, I was wondering how it would be to talk about architecture in such detail. And here I was, doing exactly that!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I got mixed reactions for my second face off with the camera. Acquaintances and pseudo friends said bland things like 'good work' while feedback on costumes, hair style and the like came from closer friends. A few people told me that I had nothing to do in the show and there was nothing intelligent in saying this bedroom is here, that bathroom is there. I was naive and nodded in agreement for the first couple of times. By the third time this remark came to me, I had given it some thought - for God's sake, there is no one job that is intelligent by itself. Intelligence is quite useful for any job - whether you are an engineer, a teacher or a plumber, a little bit of grey matter comes handy. While shooting for the first few episodes, architecture sounded like nothing but Greek and Latin to me. From where I was at that point, if I have come to a place where I am comfortable going for a shoot without any preparation whatsoever - and fully confident of performing well - it is all thanks to some good genes that my parents have given me. It would be serious injustice to them if I did not admit that. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So there I was, sitting comfortably in the anchor boots, and the offer from Radio Mango comes to join them as a Radio Jockey. Surprise again - the interview had happened eons ago and I was convinced that they were not going to call me. And they do, at the time I least expect it!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The final update before I wrap this post is that I have joined them, and I hope that the 'them' soon becomes 'us.' Wish me luck!</span></div></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-46372961399575014842010-08-15T01:41:00.003+05:302011-06-25T10:35:42.397+05:30Missing home and myself...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">The Indian Independence Day dawn is just a few hours away. And I am in a country that is not mine.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">I have come here before, as a tourist. To see as many malls as I could, to eat as many previously-not-eaten-delicacies as I could, to visit as many relatives as I could – the objectives, the bent of mind, everything was typical. It felt great while it lasted.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">This time, I have come to give my dad some company. He has lived in this country for three years now - alone. It means I am here for a longer period of time with boring things like looking for a job in an industry which almost does not exist in the country, thrown in. In flat one fortnight, I have begun to appreciate my country, my own country, infinitely more.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">My country is not so sophisticated. The roads are not so smooth; the buildings are not so tall. But I can step out of my home and walk. To wherever I want to and even if I don’t know where to.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">My country doesn’t pay as much money. With soaring house rents and real estate prices, city life is almost a battle for most middle class people. With ever-increasing food prices, sustenance is difficult for others across cities and villages. But there is always this house or that house to go to when you are hungry and not in the mood to cook.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">My country is not one of plenty. There are people who don’t have it to eat one day’s meal. But when you do have it, you can have it where you please, even on the road, even during the holy month of Ramzan, without the worry of offending anyone, because acceptance comes naturally to us.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">My country does not believe in autocracy or monopoly. We have more than ten telecom companies giving the consumers the best rates in the world for the sake of their existence. I can call anyone I want anytime I want without burning a hole in my pocket.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;">My country, with all its imperfectness, makes me feel at home. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="color: black;"></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To a country that made me what I am, thank you for the freedom you have endowed on me. Not just from the British, from all the other things that you as a country could have been and did not turn out to be. Love you </span></span></span><country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">India</span></span></span></place></country-region><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></span></span></div></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-43153171314207046792010-05-26T23:10:00.003+05:302010-05-27T00:01:07.926+05:30Back in my nest...<div style="text-align: justify;">All over - the exams, the course, the madness. And I am home.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">During the entire month of April, when my classmates were frantically going about applying for jobs, I told myself: you deserve a break, go ahead and take that, please don't enter the rat race. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And now, here I am, totally enjoying this 'doing nothing' phase, but finding it difficult to answer people's questions. Every second person I meet invariably asks: So what next? Got any job? Getting married?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have gotten over the last part and have learnt to efficiently defer the question (or give a *proper* answer to it), but the former part is tough. I have realised over the last month that, to survive in India, you have to be 'doing' something. Read enrolled with a university, working with a company, doing a business or at least playing a wife! Otherwise, people make your life hell.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As each day passes by, I am sure my folks must be finding it difficult to answer this question as well. And for them, deferring the last part is not as easy as it might be for me. They are the ones who are responsible to get me hitched, after all! But I am sure they care more about my peace of mind than others. That part is comforting!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But otherwise, tell me why I should feel guilty about taking time off to catch up with Malayalam movies, reading a few good books and doing some freelance writing assignments? About planning to spend time with dad at a place where loneliness could make you crazy, and to do other random trips that I have always wanted to? Isn't my life, my life after all?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know, these questions make no sense in a society like ours where everyone is more bothered about others lives than their own. But someone ought to fight it, and I like to believe that I am among the chosen ones!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-51473825883491049042010-04-15T17:25:00.006+05:302010-04-23T19:44:37.580+05:30The end of an era!<div style="text-align: justify;">It's been an awfully long time. I don't want to make any excuses this time. I can recollect at least ten different occasions when I thought, "I should write about this for MAMM," but I never sat down to do that. Sheer laziness. Nothing else.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It does not mean I have not been writing though. Take a look at <a href="http://ardrabalachandran.blogspot.com/">this</a>, in case it helps!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I settled down with my laptop in front of the department today, I had absolutely no intention to write this one. But I bumped into <a href="http://ardramaanasam.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-of-those-huge-changes.html">this</a> while browsing randomly and realised that I have come a long way. Of course, I had to share the intense nostalgia with you, right?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As clichéd as it may sound, it really feels like yesterday. I can still remember thinking in my head "Oh God, at which moment did I decide to choose this place?" while I rode closer to hostel every afternoon after class. What I cannot remember is when that feeling melted away. When I took a liking to this place. When this place became home.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are a million things about the university that I will miss. F Hostel bajjis, fortnightly cycle shop visits, 5l Bisleri cans from Uncle's Shop, irani chai from Shop Com - too many to list.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the course front, my choice of stream, I understand, was one of the best decisions in my life. Being the disillusioned bunch we were, of ten students with absolutely no particular liking for each other whatsoever, we have still managed to pull off a massive amount of work together. In the process, we have all become quite close too. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The teachers! :) I am one of those who cannot comfortably sit if a teacher passes by or enters a class. Even now, yes. When some of my classmates nudge me asking me to remain seated because they don't want to get up, I cannot agree. Some things are not meant to change whether you are in STD I or MA fourth semester.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Coming to the point, whatever disagreements I may have had with some of my faculty members, I completely cherish each one of them. If there has to be one person who I should start with, it is <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?ref=sgm&id=680579797">Prof. Pavarala</a>. There is no logic to my particular liking for him other than the fact that he is an amazing teacher. He just knows his job too well. And when he talks, it makes complete sense to me. And if it doesn't, he decodes it from my expression and re-explains. It is a very simple equation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sanjay Sir always reminded me of Achan, a little less temperamental of course. In all frankness, I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that he is <a href="http://deeptispeaks.wordpress.com/">Deepti</a>'s dad. He is just very fatherly even when he teaches. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.orkut.co.in/Main#Profile?uid=1042515085799024630">Ramu Sir</a> is as much a friend as a teacher. He does not intimidate you and oozes the fact of the matter that he means well for you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Someone who came late into my life is <a href="http://www.facebook.com/usha.raman">Usha Ma'am</a>. I have had only one course with her, that too in the last semester. I love her for the person that she is. She completed my campus family equation by easily fitting in as the mother figure. And such less time she took!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, the last bit. Friends. I think I am quite jinxed in this department. Being an extrovert, I make friends wherever I go. I did so here as well. But you know, the 'best friend' types? That never happened to me. Probably it is my other preoccupations that never led me into such a bond. Probably it is my egoistic nature as someone close pointed out. Whatever it is, I graduate from this university, without finding a bosom buddy who I can treasure for life. There is <a href="http://deeptispeaks.wordpress.com/">Deepti</a> who comes very close. But still, I feel a void which was caused by certain misunderstandings and heartbreaks. And coming to think that this was most probably my last lap of education and hence my last chance to make that kind of a friend, it is distressing. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Tomorrow, my fourth semester exams start. Another ten days, and my course gets over. All the pluses and minuses put together, I think I will come out victorious. I guess that's how my life was meant to be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-37661070860757831122009-09-11T11:17:00.004+05:302009-09-14T14:24:02.962+05:30Leening's Manipur, Our Manipur...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Request: Please read the whole post before you make any judgment about me. :) I love Manipur!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Leening Meetei is my classmate at University of Hyderabad. If there is one word that describes him, it's Manipur; he eats, drinks and sleeps Manipur. When a research or writing assignment is given in class, no effort needs to be taken to guess what Leening would do. It would invariably be about Manipur. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have very often been amused by this. I am a very proud <i>Malayali</i>; but I do not take up Kerala for every damn thing like he does. I have often thought; why such forceful assertion?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The other day, Leening was doing rounds in the class with a signature petition. It was addressed to the President of India against <a href="http://www.tehelka.com/story_main42.asp?filename=Ne080809murder_in.asp">the fake encounter killing that happened in Manipur</a> recently that took the life of Chonkham Sanjit (27). My turn was over and I was casually watching him. Then, I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before - some amount of passion and a lot more of pain. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's when I started thinking more deeply than I used to. Earlier, my thought process was something like this. '<i>With the very little knowledge I have of this huge issue, I know that most North Eastern states demand autonomy. Yet, there is a North East quota in my university (and probably in many other places in the country) and they are all duly filled. I mean, if you want to get separated from this country, why use the infrastructure here? That's sheer selfishness! If you want to take advantage of the facilities here, might as well stick to the sovereignty of the country!</i>'</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The pain in his eyes told me that he and I were different. I was born in a part of India that, post independence, has not witnessed a massive conflict of any sort. A place where democracy is probably at its best with everyone taking their right to life and freedom of expression for granted. I have hardly seen a person from the Armed Forces at work in the part of Kerala that I live. My perception of violence, freedom, civic sense and security is different because of this. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Leening, on the other hand, has probably spent his childhood in fear. To quote <a href="http://www.blogger.com/tehelka.com">Tehelka</a>, "Life in Manipur is like a lottery. You are alive because you are lucky." He did most of his education in Andhra Pradesh because the situation in his state was not condusive. He hasn't seen his family for months together now, because conflicts are consistent back home and travelling during our last vacation would have been dangerous. He has probably witnessed the death of a relative in the hands of people who are supposed to ensure security - the Armed Forces. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have now realised that a comparison between him and me is futile; we are so darn different. It is because of the North East quota, that I used to detest, that Leening is being able to give wings to his dreams. It is because of his belief that change is possible in this country, despite all the atrocities that his state is witnessing, that he is still going on with that signature campaign. If he does not deserve to be a citizen of this India as comfortably as I am, with all the security that I was born with and am used to, then who else is this India for?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Many North Eastern Indians migrate to other parts of India in the hope of a better life. But is it any different for them? Armed Forces may not attack or kill without a reason, but what about civilians? They attack with detesting looks that speak on the lines of "Why the hell have you come over to our place?" </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just the other day, I was comfortably seated on an <a href="http://www.apsrtc.gov.in/">APSRTC</a> bus. A North Eastern family comprising a young man, an almost-girl-like woman and their tiny kids got into the bus. The mother clad in a saree was a far cry from the stylish and sleek looking North Eastern girls I have seen on my campus, I thought. I noticed that people maintained a safe distance from the rough looking short man as though he was a terrorist, an intruder. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As the kids dozed off leaning to their mother's shoulder, I kept on gazing much to the discomfort of that woman. I was thinking how similar these four human beings were to any other random family in that bus. Yet, how different! It wouldn't be easy for them to get a house to live or a job to earn a living. The struggle to garner an identity was clearly visible on all the four faces. Even if they wanted to think of themselves as Indians, we the 'original Indians' would not let them do so. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Unity in Diversity is probably the most overrated myth that is taught in schools. You will grow up to learn that equality, let alone unity, is still a dream for many in this country. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Which is why I love you Debo! I love you for the fact that you are one of the few people who can think broad enough to assume a North Eastern Indian as close to you as I would assume a <i>Malayali</i> to me. </div></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-54769347887206346652009-09-02T16:50:00.005+05:302009-09-03T11:48:49.095+05:30An Ode About Onam...<div style="text-align: justify;">It is <i>Thiruvonam</i> today; an auspicious day for any <i>Malayali</i>, no matter what his/her religion is. A time to rejoice despite any distress you may have. A time to bond with family whichever corner of the world you may be in, otherwise. And here I am, sitting in the department computer lab, seething in emotional pain, to put it in the least dramatic way as possible!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have not even taken bath; forget having had a <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadya">sadya</a></i> with <i>payasam</i>. On the day when a vegan feast with diverse delicacies should have graced my palate for lunch, I gobbled up a KFC Zinger burger with vengeance. Either a <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadya">sadya</a></i>, or nothing close to it at all, I thought. This year, I angrily put aside my own rule of ten day vegetarianism during the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onam#The_Ten_Days_of_Celebration_-_Atham_Patthinu_Ponnonam">Atham-Thiruvonam</a></i> period.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I still remember my first Onam away from home. It was in 2006, soon after I joined Google. Having joined just in May, August came too soon and with all the training that was happening, it seemed rational not to take leaves. I did not give much thought to it as it seemed natural to miss a festival or two. I was officially 'out of home' and 'on my own,' right?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">WRONG! The day dawned and I started off with a marathon on the telephone all smiles and ended up weeping like a lost child. I wished most of my realtives in the process and vouched to each of them that it was terrible to be doing so over telephone. Having heard stories of an <i>Onasady</i>a that had happened in the previous year at Google office, I expected the lunch of the day to wipe off my copious tears. To my utter dismay, the caterers had changed and the new guys did not know about the festival! I ate rice and <i>porial</i> and tried to satiate myself in vain. I still cannot manage to put together the pieces of a broken me of that day. I hadn't realised until then that I was so emotionally dependent on my family and promised myself that another Onam shall not pass by this way, without them being beside me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I kept that promise and dutifully went home in the two subsequent years. First, while I was still with Google, and the second, after I joined <a href="http://www.uohyd.ernet.in/">UoH</a>. I hate bunking classes normally; but Onam was a good enough reason to do so for a week. But this year, since a plan was on to celebrate <i>Achan</i>'s <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shashti_poorthi">shashtipoorthi</a></i> in the last week of September, I had to make a compromise. Missing two weeks of classes in the same month could cause some trouble while registering for the end semester examinations. Thus, at the altar of educational insurgency, I sacrificed my need to be home.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was thinking a while ago that it is just another day in Hyderabad. It is a regular working day, with not much buzz about Onam apart from the mad rush at Kairali restaurant situated at about 2km distance. Still, the day is so different for me. In the heart of heart, I keep reminded that everyone is celebrating back home and making merry. It is scary to think whether they are missing me or not. What if they are not? What if I am not that indispensable?<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Worse still, unlike in 2006, I cannot even make a promise to myself that I would be home next year for Onam. I just don't know what I'd be doing next year, around this time!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is funny how Onam is no more just a festival for me. With an assorted collection of memories that include tidbits of sleepless shoots during my <a href="http://www.kairalitv.in/">Kairali TV</a> days and <a href="http://picasaweb.google.co.in/ardramaanasam/Oottttipattanam?authkey=Gv1sRgCILz45CHyNWdQg">impromptu trips</a> with cousins and elders to touristy locations associated with it, Onam has become a habitual indulgence for me. One that makes me sulk, if I don't abide to it. Sad that I did not indulge this time; but only to reinvent my ties with my roots..</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happy Onam to all of you!</div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-70322914956777052522009-08-16T23:04:00.001+05:302009-08-21T03:09:56.989+05:30Birthday Recollections..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDY_sbx-3EBq1SeokHY6wGhFzl1PxxTOQcgXqlhjPJsV5BrZNUNjMqU-PtIp_cF_R3cQ2kNAAwt6dLaXeU7uZSXc96t9gp-4vX7fd5-svURysf3U2DlQN2HPhkdmJKdY_xmhTq0yf-xE/s1600-h/cake.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDY_sbx-3EBq1SeokHY6wGhFzl1PxxTOQcgXqlhjPJsV5BrZNUNjMqU-PtIp_cF_R3cQ2kNAAwt6dLaXeU7uZSXc96t9gp-4vX7fd5-svURysf3U2DlQN2HPhkdmJKdY_xmhTq0yf-xE/s320/cake.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372163879241993394" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">I was making a quick flashback journey through the past year, now that I am a year older; only to realise with joy that it had been phenomenal for me! Some highlights:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I quit the cushy job at Google after much deliberation. While some dear ones (read my parents) were happy that I finally did it, some others (mostly friends) made a verdict that I am insane. Who else will leave a job with Google for God's sake, right? Well, stories I am hearing these days say that lots of people actually do. I was one of the early ones to take the tough decision before the management did it! I miss the pancakes at breakfast and the almost-free massages at <a href="http://www.tangerinespa.net/">Tangerine Spa</a>; but it is okay.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I joined a public university for my Masters. People <i>uh-uh</i> ed and advised me against it. Most of them wondered why I did not consider greener pastures like the USA and the UK when I could have. However, I stayed unperturbed and stuck to my plans. I was always sure that my country's infrastructure and facilities are enough for me to succeed in life. If I choose to make use of it, it will definitely come to my use. Believe me, it is happening. I shall now treasure that derogatory expression on the face an HR guy from Google (also my friend) to cheer me up a tad bit more when I graduate with flying colours next year. :)</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I made the right decision while choosing between the two <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central_University,_India">Central Universities</a> in Hyderabad. The rank list at <a href="http://www.efluniversity.ac.in/">English and Foreign Languages University</a> which had my name beaming on the top and the one at <a href="http://www.uohyd.ernet.in/">University of Hyderabad</a> which had me as Number 2 on the waiting list for the stream of my choice, suggested the obvious. Being the attention seeker that I am, I wanted to study in the institution where I would be the apple of the eye from the beginning. Thankfully, I did not succumb to that dumb thought. I asked innumerable people what the right decision would be; sometimes to the level of annoying some patient friends. I took admission at EFLU since that happened first and I was not sure if UoH would graduate me from the waiting list to the confirmed list. Finally, while waiting for the admission week at UoH, I decided to bid good bye to my ego and arrive at a sensible conclusion. Confirmation of the stream I wanted (Print & New Media) = UoH. Allocation of what UoH thinks I fit into (Advertising & PR) = EFLU. As always, God showed me the right path and gave me the right opportunity - to study in the country's second best university, in the stream I wanted. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I figured in the top scorer list in both the semesters. In the first semester if I came second, God was gracious enough to promote me to the first position in the second semester. I always knew that pursuing one's passion in the form of education works wonders. Joining the rat race and crumbling later is so easy. But figuring out what you want from life and struggling a little to get it is so rewarding.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I got a cool new bunch of friends. All the girls are younger than me and most of the boys are older than me. I just meant that it is a group with a lot of age diversity contrary to my scary thought before joining that I would be the granny in the class because of the two year sabbatical I took from studies. So what if I am the eldest girl in the class? I also have the maturity that comes along with age and most of the younger ones respect me for that. Quite an ego boost for a Leo, you see!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I became an RJ doing shows in Hindi at Hyderabad! Who would have thought that all the K serials I watched meticulously in Kerala would prove beneficial one day? The intelligentsia of this nation may slam <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekta_Kapoor">Ekta Kapoor</a> for dishing out mindless soaps (<a href="http://snscomm.uohyd.ernet.in/sns/comm/web/documents/26.html">Dr. Vinod Pavarala </a>says though that there is nothing called mindless television; everyone finds some meaning in everything). But I am eternally grateful to her for replenishing my dry Hindi resources from a Kerala state syllabus school with free flowing <i>saral</i> Hindi through <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kutumb_(TV_series)">Kutumb</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kyunki_Saas_Bhi_Kabhi_Bahu_Thi">Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi</a></i> and what not! Even if it was <i>pyaar-zindagi-rishta-vishwas-bandhan ki baatein</i>, I learnt the language there, and I flaunt it today to earn some pocket money. Thanks to <i>Akkachi</i> too for inculcating the interest for <i>Rashtrabhasha</i> in me through a culture of serial and film watching at home.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I became an avid blogger. Having joined a course in Print and New Media, I figured that I better do it rather than feel sorry later. My blog has now become a baby of mine who I had delivered prematurely and left unattended. I rediscovered the joy of this particular motherhood, also because of <a href="http://thewayialwayswas.blogspot.com/">the lovely child</a> <a href="http://thewayialwayswas.blogspot.com/2009/07/nags-nags-who.html">Naags</a> has raised.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I spoke to <i>Achan</i> direct <i>dil se</i> about something very special. I have a history of hysteric ways of expression of love for <i>Amma</i>; with <i>Achan</i>, I have always been subtle. But when it came to talking about something very very important, I thought <i>Achan</i> would lend a keener ear. <i>Amma, </i>of course, joined the discussion soon.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For all these and much more, God, I raise a toast to you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">PS: I also got a fantastic haircut done. I was so impressed with <a href="http://www.naturals.in/">the salon</a> and the lady who did it, I indulged in a hair spa experience as well. Lots of 'wellwishers' told me that I look a lot younger with the open, layered hair. In turn, I also take better care of it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-82905473564110458152009-08-01T16:09:00.004+05:302009-08-18T16:40:22.683+05:30Why is it like this?<div style="text-align: justify;">I don't think I have given vent to my frustration here, ever before. But I just decided that I should do it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Rainbow is the FM channel of All India Radio, as many of you may know. This meagre soul is one of the RJs of its Hyderabad channel 101.9. I have been doing the show <i>Geet Gata Chal</i> every Friday from February this year until now, with a break of two months in between when I went home. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Right from the time I started doing the show, until I left in May for the break, I was handling random Bollywood news and gossips for the content of the show. It was a smooth run and there was absolutely no feedback that came in from anywhere except my lovely listeners who always praised me over telephone calls. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And then, I took the break. And came back. I thought that spicing the show up a little bit by making a more specific format would be a good idea. My programme executive was on leave during this time and I did not get a chance to discuss this with him. So I went ahead and restructured the random Bollywood rattlings into a Friday movie release special. Fridays are the days when movies release and I started giving updates and inside stories about the ones releasing on that day. I made sure each talk I did was information packed and thus was doing the show with much more interest and vigour than when I had left. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Enter my supervisor. He is angry that I did not discuss this with him while he was not available in the first place. He tells me a thousand things about how there is a specific format for the show and that I cannot please my whims and fancies when he and I both know that there is nothing of that sort. He talks to the minute detail of a major theme and a minor theme for each jocktalk while I am grumbling in my mind that deconstructing something as creative as RJing to this level will spoil the fun of it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's not that I don't get the point. I do. It is a mass medium and our target is a mass audience. I need to please all of them and not just a small group who thinks like me and likes what I say now. I have to please the lowest common denominator and they are not as intelligent as I think they are. This is what he wants me to understand and I do. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But still, why is it that I cannot speak my mind and make sense? Why is it that the listeners (or audience for another medium) are constantly underestimated by those who are at the helm? I talk sense even when it is about Bollywood and give loads of information that may not feature in the frivolous talks that others indulge in. Yet, I am the one asked to change and not them. Why?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Aren't Hyderabadis mature enough to take any stuff other than <i>pyaar dosti ki bekaar baatein? </i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i></i>Why, Lord, why?</div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-40586203767199190182009-07-28T14:33:00.011+05:302009-08-07T12:29:59.083+05:30A Letter to my Ammoomma..Ammoomme,<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have grown up hearing liberal amounts of commentry on how I resemble you of younger days. I would often stare with wonder at the black and white picture frame that adorns the top row of the photo wall at <i>Harichandanam</i> to draw a connection. The picture is of a young and fiery woman in her graduate gown who is refusing to let out the smile that is revolting to splurge out of her lips. The picture is of you.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have always known that I have a great lineage to boast about, that I do not have an ordinary woman for a grand mother. When my friends told stories of weak grandparents who could barely walk, I had a power woman at home who would write pages and pages of content without a coffee break. The long list of your degrees that would put any modern academician to shame, the sheer number of countries you have visited as a scholar, the confidence with which you spoke English long after you crossed seventy - everything about you has been special.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On the other hand, you did those wonderful things that made me feel that I have a normal, doting grandmother. You told and retold the story of Cinderella every night yielding to my boring demand for the same story before I went to sleep. You made yummy <i>Unniyappams</i> so that I came home to a tasty treat after a tiring day at school. You inculcated love for plants in me and answered innumerable doubts of mine whether a particular plant can be grown with a <i>thai </i>or <i>kambu</i>. You also drew a lot of record pictures for me because you were good at drawing. When I come to think of it, what was it that you werent' good at? Cooking, painting, writing, teaching, loving, communicating - you were good at everything!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The other day, I received a book that <i>Amma</i> sent through a friend of mine. It is a biography of Mannathu Padmanabhan, your grandfather and the founder of Nair Service Society. The book is written by you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The first time I held it in my hand, it was not the gleaming portrait of <i>Vallyappooppan</i> on the cover page that I saw. The effort you have been relentlessly putting into it for years, despite failing health - that's what I saw. I glanced through the pages, read some lines here and there, and I got a sense of the focus you might have had throughout the period that you wrote it without using anything but pen and paper. No computer or any other form of technology whatsoever to help. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I do not know if I would be ever able to tell you what I feel about you; especially after seeing the book that has been your dream for a long time, which now is a reality. You are such a perfect living example of how to make every dream possible. <i>Achan</i> wrote to me about your achievement and mentioned that you have defeated the concept of Alzheimer's Disease by completing such a monumental work at the age of 84. All I would like to tell you is that I am charmed. I can feel the depth and volume of the power I am inheriting through you. I am just so proud. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I retrospect, I am reminded of the struggles you have gone through to get where you are - your childlike complaints about dear ones (never about me though, right?), the easiness with which you cry, the constant insecurity of being alone. I know that even in the pinnacle of achievements, you weren't completely happy for reasons known to you and me. But then, what is life without some rough patches? God does not give everything to everyone; but please know that you are a truly blessed soul. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am at a stage of life where making the right moves is very important. I have to take decisions almost everyday which will affect the way my life will mould itself tomorrow. I want you to know that, at this point, my single most inspiration and motivation is you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">More than everything, I want you to know that I love you. I may not talk to you that often or see you that often. But I do not struggle any more to see the connection between you and me. I close my eyes and look within, and I see only you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Congratulations on making yet another dream come true. Congratulations on being who you are. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Love,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Kunju.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-21446514038055508562009-07-14T14:55:00.006+05:302009-09-23T01:00:24.388+05:30The Joys of eBay Shopping!<div style="text-align: justify;">I do not remember when I discovered the <span style="font-style: italic;">khazana</span> of possibilities - <a href="http://www.ebay.in/">eBay</a>.<br /><br />A couple of years ago, when my daily bread from Google depended on how many ads I reviewed a day, the word eBay had a different connotation. Easy-to-review ads which boost productivity, performance review, salary proposition. etc. as much as wolves in jackal skin because they have hidden errors that do not catch the eye.<br /><br />From that time, I always looked at it as a 'US thing.' The generalisation that we Indians prefer to do shopping physically and that online shopping is for lazy people in the West added to the complication of credit/debit card fraud - eBay was never a part of my thought process.<br /><br />And then one day, I saw an advertisement of eBay.in - eBay with an Indian twist. Being the dream come true innovator I am (take a bow, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Everett_Rogers">Mr. Everett Rogers</a>, you were absolutely right with your <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diffusion_of_innovations#Adopter_categories">classification</a>), I tried it out. A quick registration is all what I did in my first visit.<br /><br />As if they read my middle class mind, eBay soon started sending me emails with luring offers. Yes, their strategy has worked and I have started online shopping!<br /><br />A month back, I got this email alert of a <a href="http://cgi.ebay.in/Bajaj-DVD-player-DVX20-with-1year-company-warranty_W0QQitemZ180380189667QQcmdZViewItemQQptZIN_DVD_Players_Recorders?hash=item29ff7f43e3&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14&_trkparms=65%3A1%7C66%3A1%7C39%3A1%7C293%3A1%7C294%3A25">Bajaj DVD Player with USB</a> coming at a discounted price of Rs. 1700. There was another offer running simultaneously where eBay was giving away free gifts for all purchases above Rs. 1000. <span style="font-style: italic;">Bling bling</span> went the red alarms and I remembered my friend who had mentioned dreaming a DVD player, but had a tight budget. A quick check with the friend and thirty minutes later, I had paid for it through PaisaPay! My friend got a DVD player within the budget and and it brought along the joy of a free 2Gb pen drive..<br /><br />I am sure the technology employed at eBay sensed a potential ransacker sitting in Hyderabad and browsing their stuff. The very next week, I got another email saying flat Rs. 250 off on any item. <span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Five minutes later, eyelashes fluttering, I was innocently ordering a 2GB pen drive for Rs. 120. My sense of logic must have been really kaput considering I had gotten hold of <a href="http://cgi.ebay.in/Western-Digital-Passport-USB-500-GB-Hard-Disk-500gb_W0QQitemZ390065808285QQcmdZViewItemQQptZLH_DefaultDomain_203?hash=item5ad1bbe39d&_trksid=p3286.c0.m14&_trkparms=65%3A1%7C66%3A1%7C39%3A1%7C293%3A1%7C294%3A25">this</a> less than two months ago. But then, you can't carry such a darling gizmo anywhere and everywhere, right? For example, using it to carry a silly file that needs to be printed out would be a criminal offence. So that's the logic - my hard disk is for my movies, music and moments <span style="font-style: italic;">only</span>.<br /><br />Today, it happened again. Another email with the same offer of flat Rs. 250 off. My grey cells went into a revolution and finally I figured it. Books! Mad browsing for an hour followed by one purchase - <span style="font-style: italic;">The Alchemist</span> by Paulo Coelho for Rs. 15.<br /><br />All the uninitiated - I would like to enlighten you about the way these offers work. They send you a promo code in an email and you have to paste it in the final step of payment. After <span style="font-style: italic;">The Alchemist</span>, I zeroed in on another one called<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://cgi.ebay.in/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=270425674431">My Friend Sancho</a> by blogstar <a href="http://indiauncut.com/">Amit Varma</a> and frantically went on to pay just Rs. 5 for it - but alas! The code was already used - for Paulo Coelho, of course.<br /><br />Disappointed, I tried creating another id to see if that will work. It did not. In utter dismay, I realized that it is a unique code and works only for one user, for one transaction.<br /><br />No, I did not give up. I added all my potential buys to my shopping cart. You know what I am doing right now? Keeping an eye on my inbox - to see when the next Rs. 250 promo comes, so that I can buy books for multiples of five rupees.<br /><br />Credit card fraud - what is that? :P<br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-26606571796074242902009-07-10T10:39:00.015+05:302009-07-10T14:54:47.936+05:30A Facebook Message and the Memories it brought..<div style="text-align: justify;">A message that came to me on Facebook this morning made me look behind - the paths of life that I crossed and reached where I am right now. That message was from <span style="font-style: italic;">Santoshettan,</span> more familiar to Malayalis as Santosh Palee or Palee.<br /><br />An eighteen year old with bright dreams of being in the limelight - that was me in a nutshell in 2003. It was also the time when Palee was reigning many a Malayali heart including mine with a program called Kairali On Demand. One of the many things I did to realize my dream was writing long letters to him with program ideas in the hope that he would just pick me to anchor them!<br /><br />One day, that much awaited call came as well - to give a screen test. For me, hearing his voice across the line was an achievement in itself. He was an icon of sorts who encapsulated the ultimate media dream for me - someone who had to come on screen from behind by sheer coincidence and stayed on gloriously. The screen test was truly just a bonus.<br /><br />I cannot imagine the nervousness I experienced that day. Probably, something I have never ever felt before or after, in my life - in that measure. I vividly remember his lady love being in the studio for the shoot of a program called Weekender. Of course, I did not know at that point that there was a love story going on. ;)<br /><br />The screen test was totally uneventful. I was asked to perform an introduction for the program Mail A Scene. The otherwise ultra talkative, oversmart me just shrinked into a coy little thing with a puppy face in the great producer's presence. Needless to say, my performance was nowhere close to what I could have done and I don't even think he gave it a thought whether to take me aboard or not.<br /><br />I thought, there goes my future in my dream channel into the dustbin with a silly piece of script I made.<br /><br />I moved on, appeared for a screen test at Indiavision and did much much better this time. May be, because I cared much less if I would get through or not. And of course, <span style="font-style: italic;">Santoshettan</span> was not there to distract!<br /><br />I made it and I faced the camera for the first time for a programme there. Destiny had other plans though. Eleven months down the lane, I sensed another opportunity at Kairali with another producer. I wrote to him about my experience at Indiavision and I was on!<br /><br />It indeed was a dream come true. Kairali had the most creative graphics team of all Malayalam channels at that point and my imagination knew no bounds about the riot of colours I would have for accompaniment on screen. Yet, somewhere inside, the sense of loss lingered that I did not become an anchor for a Palee programme.<br /><br />Kairali became home to me soon. I bumped into him very frequently in the studio, yet continued to be star struck each time it happened. My producer was a good friend of Palee, so there was no dearth of insider news about Palee's life - professional and personal. In that way, I was in a much better place than most of his fans, even though I did not realize the anchor dream.<br /><br />Life goes on. So did mine. I relocated to Hyderabad, much away from my media dreams, doing totally different things. Malayalam Television soon became a thing of past to me, something that I do not have access to even when I go back home, thanks to Kunjunni's addiction to Pogo.<br /><br />But then, there is Facebook and orkut. Many lost media connections got revived especially on FB. Among them are <span style="font-style: italic;">Santoshettan</span> of course and also Aroonz (Arun P G), a great graphics artist who did some of the most fantastic backdrops for me at Kairali. He is ready with his first movie work - <span style="font-style: italic;">Puthiya Mukham</span>. Wish you the best, buddy!<br /><br />Coming back to our hero, let me share the message he sent that made me take this walk down the memory lane - unabridged!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Two days before me and sree konny wr sitting tgthr for chilling.. ,me confessed to him that I cudnt recognised your talent at that time, or conveniently forgottn to uplift your softskills,due to the lack of a good prgrm which suits to your persona..I mean it..</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Today I am really feelin proud bout you.. while walking thru d corridors of memories I can recollect those wonderful letters you wrote to me with poetic touches. "Ardramaanasam"... I used to call u like that... nywayz.. go ahead babes... my heartfelt best wishes to you....</span><br /><br />When people say some dreams should reamain unfulfilled so that we feel the need to keep going, I usually disagree. Realising dreams is an extremely important thing for me. I think I just changed my mind. May be, some things should remain unachieved. God can keep watching, and based on your track record, can gift bigger and better blessings. Like the one I got today. :)<br /><br />PS : Just in case you have not noticed, the name that <span style="font-style: italic;">Santoshettan</span> gave me - I adopted it<span style="font-style: italic;"></span> for life. My Internet persona <span style="font-style: italic;">Ardramaanasam</span> owes someone a lot, you see! :)<br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-26655338949495752512009-07-07T12:50:00.006+05:302009-09-23T01:35:46.315+05:30Kambakht Yeh Kya Hai!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrCxcSsaGO2-b_eqaRjP0xoOWlU70rcEyvZVersn5Psy1UFmEMUjAGnjlEzv4BqFOQVpEnXm3DCI3L99mUO1PHj8Udax-um2YUl1MK4NZODRVJ8QFx7jra7I4-4iD5Xe1kPRYTO0GI88/s1600-h/ki.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrCxcSsaGO2-b_eqaRjP0xoOWlU70rcEyvZVersn5Psy1UFmEMUjAGnjlEzv4BqFOQVpEnXm3DCI3L99mUO1PHj8Udax-um2YUl1MK4NZODRVJ8QFx7jra7I4-4iD5Xe1kPRYTO0GI88/s320/ki.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384385302147336610" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">The joy of watching a movie on its day of release is out of this world (so what if it is not the first show?). I just got lucky last Friday and managed to get the last two tickets for my friend and myself at PVR - for <span style="font-style: italic;">Kambakht Ishq</span> (KI).<br /><br />Sigh! But I won't indulge in a full and complete movie review for this one - just because it is not worth it. A film becomes 'analyzable' only when it has met some basic requirements like... a storyline?<br /><br />But I am of the belief that a film is 'watchable' if it has anything at all. A storyline would a good thing to have. But even if that is missing, I am willing to pay Rs. 1oo and watch a movie in the theatre if there are sufficient 'other stuff' in the package. Read on to find out some of that stuff for which you might want to see KI:<br /><br /><ul><li>Guys may want to watch it for Kareena. Her skin show. Her figure. Girls may want to watch it for Kareena too. Her attitude. Her stilettos. Kareena proves that acting is a comfortable forte for her no matter how stupid the script is. Attitude is definitely something that only Bebo can pull off the way she does. Simrata (aka Bebo) of KI underlines this fact.</li></ul><br /><ul><li>People of my species - who hear about Hollywood movies all the time from everyone around but have not seen too many of them - would want to watch KI for a peekaboo of Brandon Routh, Denise Richards and the big guy - Sylvester Stallone who looks like the old pancake-packed Kamal Hassan from the movie Indian/Hindustani. </li></ul><br /><ul><li>Each one of you might want to watch it for the exotic locales of Los Angeles. Oh yeah, there was also Italy stuffed in between so that hero and heroine could sing a song. But I like the Italy in <span style="font-style: italic;">Bachnaa Ae Haseeno</span> way better! :D</li></ul><br /><ul><li>Then..... Yeah! Amrita Arora's skin show/bikini act in a dream sequence. Poor Aftab Shivdasani could only fantacize his wife in bikinis. Boys who want to give Aftab company can go to the theatres and watch Amu sizzle.</li></ul><br /><ul><li>The drama queen in me liked the scene where Akshay and Sylvester come together on stage for an award ceremony. Akshay gives a very emotional speech about our tradition of touching the feet of parents/elders/Guru during times of achievements. He follows it up with the words "Let me bow down to the Guru of Action, Stallone" and lo! He touched Rambo's feet with total conviction. Many of you may find it too melodramatic, but I felt it was electric! :) Go watch KI just for this scene.<br /></li></ul><br /><ul><li>Since we just had a dry summer without ample dose of Bollywood, may be, you would want to go for KI just like that and enjoy humour here and there. But surprisingly, those few instances of humour also do not come from Khiladi Kumar.</li></ul><br />If you do not believe in movies without a storyline, here is why you should avoid KI:<br /><br /><ul><li>Akshay Kumar claimed that KI is India's answer to Mr & Mrs. Smith. I have not seen this Brangelina flick, but I know Akshay's claim is totally untrue. Apparently, it is most remembered for the chemistry between the lead actors, but there is no such magic in KI - except for a very candid kiss that Kareena uses to zip her man's lips in the climax.</li></ul><br /><ul><li>Dialogues in a mainstream big budget movie cannot get more boring. And I still cannot recover from the fact that <a href="http://www.starboxoffice.com/newsDetails.aspx?xfile=2008/December/News_20081224_186">Anvita Dutt Guptan</a> who made me proud as a girl with her work in Dostana and Bachnaa Ae Haseeno penned the same. In these films, her lines were so sexily sleazy, yet classy. In KI, she had to attempt about 10 strokes to make audience laugh once - with an Akshay in hand who usually has comedy even in his movements! I am astonished that she and her co-writers (that includes the director Sabbir Khan) did not realize throughout the making that a battle between the sexes cannot be established through name calling (read dog and bitch).</li></ul><br /><ul><li>Why Anu Malik/Salim Sulaiman, why? Copy some tunes from Arabia, jazz it up with some Jhankar Beats, add some Desi twist, do whatever - but produce some good music! KI numbers were so.. *yawn* in spite of a beautiful heroine, brawny hero and plush locales.</li></ul><br /><ul><li>Nothing can substitute the backbone for human beings, right? Just like that, the lack of even a reasonable story does major damage to this movie. I wonder why the producer Sajid Nadiadwala invested so much money in this flick to the details of an eight lakh worth dress for Kareena. A watch left in hero's stomach during an operation by the surgeon heroine and added complication in the form of a love story so that the watch can be taken out. Beat that!</li></ul><br /><br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-67523641886692881362009-07-06T16:53:00.003+05:302011-06-25T10:33:12.968+05:30Fighting for a Reason...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARDRA%7E1.IRI%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARDRA%7E1.IRI%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARDRA%7E1.IRI%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">I had told you about my middle class mania last week, right? Please do not confuse that with what I am going to tell you. <i>This one is not about money, it is all about my belief.</i> (Thank you Uma, for this cool oneliner.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Maximum Retail Price. We know that is the expanded form of MRP. We know that is the 'printed price' on most goods, and the price that we should 'go by' especially with regard to </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fast_moving_consumer_goods"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">FMCGs. </span></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">But how many people actually check it on a regular basis? Forget the regularity, even from time to time? I know this depends on a lot of factors. One - the class that you belong to. If you drive around in a Merc, it is less than likely that you will go to a supermarket in person, let alone check prices. I am talking about an average Indian here - </span><a href="http://jkrishnamurthi.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">the Mango Indian</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"> as </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/03673896592165262552"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">JK</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"> calls himself. Two - if the product in question is new to you or not. It is very likely that the Mango Indian will check what the price is if it is a new product - mostly by asking the shopkeeper <i>'kya daam hai,' 'ithinethra' </i>etc. but sometimes otherwise too.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">I don't own a Merc and I do my shopping myself. I am a Mango Indian who buys new things like Parle Golden Arc Pineapple-stuffed rolls and old, time tested things like Dove soaps. Yet, each time, every single time, I check the MRP religiously. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Take a look at these situations and answer in your mind, okay? Just so that you know where you stand in this test of mine.</span></div><ul style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">You are about to board a train for a long distance journey. You go to the nearby stall on your platform. You ask for a bottle of mineral water. Will you ask <i>'Kitna Hai' </i>and pay what he says or check the MRP and pay the amount?</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">You are returning home after dinner with your friends. The gang feels like having something sweet and cold down the throats. You stop the car at the first visible Kwality Walls/Amul guy on the road. A orders a Cornetto, B orders a Feast and you get a Chocobar. Will you ask <i>'Total kitna?'</i> or check the MRP and do the math yourself?</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">You are walking towards an office to get something done. You are dead tired and go to a <i style="font-family: arial;">pan</i> shop to get a bottle of juice. Will you ask 'Kitna Hai' or check the MRP printed in feeble black on the glass bottle?</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">It is very likely that you answered either a <b>Former</b> to all or a <b>Latter</b> to all. If it is the former, have peace. 99% Indians belong to your tribe. If it is the latter, welcome aboard, you are a member of my club!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">I have travelled long distances without a bottle of water because the stall owner said he wants fifteen for a Kinley water bottle when I gave him twelve – the printed MRP. I have given my favourite Amul Kulfi away, all upset and angry with the vendor who thought getting more than what’s printed is his birthright. I have rendered a 1.5 hour long Geet Gata Chal show on Rainbow FM exhausted and thirsty – just because the <i>Panwallah</i> outside All India Radio wanted 20 for the Minute Maid Pulpy Orange bottle that actually costs fifteen. All for my belief – that being able to buy things at MRP is my right as a citizen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">One could easily think that I suffered in each of those battles. But I have felt immensely proud of myself each time I stood and fought for my rights. Except for once, never has any vendor obliged and given me the stuff at MRP. But I still feel it is a battle won, because someone is questioning the wrong they are doing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">One could also feel sympathetic towards the vendor and tell me, “What’s wrong with you? Let the poor guy have a rupee extra.” My apologies there. If you need a bigger business margin, go for a business that offers you the same. For God’s sake, selling goods above their MRP is a legal offence. In a wave of sympathy, will you ignore a <i>Panwallah</i> selling micro drug packs and think let the dude make some money? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Until now, I have not been able to get hold of a Consumer Care number where I can report such cases. Soon, I will get that to ensure that the wrong is not just questioned, but overthrown by establishment of justice. Big words for a Kinley bottle at Rs. 12, an Amul Kulfi at Rs. 12, and a Minute Maid for Rs. 15, I know. But then, as I said in the beginning, <i>it is not about the money, it is about my belief.</i></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 115%;"></span></div></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-12833905769432822802009-06-30T10:49:00.012+05:302009-06-30T13:02:43.081+05:30The Loss of a Legend. Lohithadas.<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAWoHGffNHm0oTzFZUxgr6KRvR38I4pSu5zYJLTI_EvdJeVJJ3P9f3uSkrB_-fb5QJ_VYMz1ZYXmQ8UJ9EerTMLnM4dw2tjmnw5_B0pzIC5I5uKCcJP2_4G4eKG6cO0dWm1WE6OFYi9Q/s1600-h/lohi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAWoHGffNHm0oTzFZUxgr6KRvR38I4pSu5zYJLTI_EvdJeVJJ3P9f3uSkrB_-fb5QJ_VYMz1ZYXmQ8UJ9EerTMLnM4dw2tjmnw5_B0pzIC5I5uKCcJP2_4G4eKG6cO0dWm1WE6OFYi9Q/s320/lohi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352987496250241634" border="0" /></a>Film personalities are like fireflies. They light up the lives of many, and then fade into oblivion. Hardly do cinegoers ponder over their deaths or disappearances for more than a day. But this time around, it is just so different. Forget the cliche that 'He was a pillar of the Malayalam film industry' and all that. Just recall his films, and you will know what I mean.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Thaniyavarthanam, Kireedom, His Highness Abdullah, Bharatham, Amaram, Kamaladalam, Vatsalyam, Thoovalkkottaram.. </span><br /></div><br />The power of his pen was such that right from the first film he wrote, the industry knew that here was a man to be reckoned with. <span style="font-style: italic;">Thaniyavarthanam</span>, his first screenplay filmed by Sibi Malayil is still a seething wound in the minds of <span style="font-style: italic;">Malayalis</span>. This team went on to make more cinema that crushed our hearts and left us shattered. Those melodramas changed the way we experienced cinema until then.<br /><br />Thanks to the justice Lohi always showed to his characters, some of the most memorable performances of our superstars, without which they would have hardly attained the stature they have today, came through his films. Mohanlal won his first national award through <span style="font-style: italic;">Bharatham</span> penned by Lohi. However, my personal favourite of Lal-Lohi combination is Nandagopan from <span style="font-style: italic;">Kamaladalam</span>.<br /><br />Mind you, it is not just the superstars who were blessed by his pen. Nedumudi Venu in <span style="font-style: italic;">His Highness Abdullah</span>, KPAC Lalitha in <span style="font-style: italic;">Amaram</span>, Thilakan in <span style="font-style: italic;">Veendum Chila Veettukaryangal,</span> Bindu Panicker in <span style="font-style: italic;">Joker</span>, Oduvil Unnikrishnan in <span style="font-style: italic;">Thoovalkkottaram</span> are all fine examples that Lohi's characters, even if they are not the protagonists, are always well-etched and give a lot of scope to the actors. Another character that comes to my mind right now is the <span style="font-style: italic;">Muthachhan</span> from <span style="font-style: italic;">Thoovalkkottaram</span> played by Babu Swamy. I am incapable to think of another screenwriter who could have made such an inconsequential character look so important.<br /><br />A few months before his untimely death, Lohi had opined that Malayalam cinema lacked a new generation of actors, and the existing ones are too old and overused. As much as he was a man of perfect words, he was also a man of action. When he turned a director, this is why he took the effort to find new faces who suited his characters than write stories for the establised actors who have minimum guarantee. Lakshmi Gopalaswami, Manya, Meera Jasmine, Bhama, Vinu Mohan - so many of them in that list apart from Manju Warrier and Samyuktha Varma who also got introduced through his screenplays.<br /><br />Somehow, I am in awe for Lohi, the screenplay writer more than Lohi, the director. When he debuted as a director with <span style="font-style: italic;">Bhoothakkannadi</span>, it seemed the most natural thing to do for a creatively mature writer. However, none of his directorial ventures struck a chord with the audience as much as his screenplays directed by Sibi, Bharathan or Satyan Anthikkad. And before he could prove this observation wrong, he left the silver screen forever, much like most of his films - leaving behind a lingering pain.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Any Malayali who has witnessed the late 80s and 90s of Malayalam cinema will know that his talent was of a different leagure altogether - one that can never be replaced with. And yet, this country never attested it with a National award. May be, the juries knew that this man never cared about anything except creating ripples with human emotions.<br /><br />I am so glad my first dose of memorable films came from him. For all those unwritten screen poems by Lohi that left with him - <span style="font-style: italic;">Heard </span><em style="font-style: italic;">melodies</em><span style="font-style: italic;"> are sweet, but those </span><em style="font-style: italic;">unheard</em> <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span> <em style="font-style: italic;">sweeter.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Image Courtesy : </span></em><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://nishusworld.blogspot.com/2009/02/l-das-2000.html">nishusworld.blogspot.com</a></div><img src="file:///C:/Users/ARDRA%7E1.IRI/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" />Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-9382164375939170692009-06-26T15:11:00.003+05:302009-06-26T16:57:45.747+05:30Middle Class Maniac - Me!<div style="text-align: justify;">The characteristics attributed to middle classism are many. But I am dealing with only one right now. That’s regarding money, honey!!<br /><br />I can recall umpteen incidents right from my school-going age until like day before yesterday when my friends labeled me ‘cheap,’ ‘stingy,’ and what not. All thanks to my nature of being extra cautious with money no matter which stage of life I was in – studying or working.<br /><br />Take a sneak peak!<br /><br />*I prefer bus to auto rickshaws. I developed a strong hate feeling for autos at Kottayam where they do not have meters unlike in bigger cities. Which means the driver’s word or price is the law and I cannot accept that. I always need a visible proof to the money that I am spending. Hyderabad autos of course have meters, but not all drivers turn them on. Some quote fancy prices and I walk away without even responding. At some other times, I bargain madly with the drivers to get a price that I think is fair. I might be doing this at the oddest time of the day (err, night) possible when another auto is not in the vicinity. Dangerous enough, huh? And then, there are buses that get you to your destination for 5 INR in the place of 50 INR in auto. So what if you have to walk 100m to get to the bus stop?<br /><br />#And my friends go “But why? Why would you want to stand squeezed through a grueling experience with your face inside a smelly armpit?”<br /><br />^But are they capable of comprehending the beauty of bus rides that let you enjoy a city from an elevated view? NO.<br /><br />*I choose quantity over quality, especially with clothes. If you tell me I have a choice between four bright coloured simple cotton Kurtis from General Bazaar and one ultra elegant Biba Kurta from Hyderabad Central that costs more than all the other four put together, I will definitely go for the former.<br /><br />#And my friends go “Thank God, everyone in this world is not like you. Otherwise there would not have been something called class.”<br /><br />^But do they understand that having the variety of four colours and Kurtis is far more exciting than owning one single piece which you will soon be bored of? NO.<br /><br />*Unless someone else who loves me a lot (read <span style="font-style: italic;">Achan</span>) is booking the ticket, I always travel in sleeper class in Indian Railways. A three tier AC ticket in Sabari Express from Secunderabad to Kottayam costs 960 INR and in sleeper class it costs 400 INR. It is indeed a meager difference if you think about it. But when I think about it, I can save 500 INR and travel in the very same train and reach at the same time as the AC guys would. It’s not as if I live in a centrally air-conditioned home anyway.<br /><br />#And my friend goes (not many know of this) “You are a freak.”<br /><br />^But does he know that the view of nature and the feel of breeze compensates more than enough for the sweat particles you accumulate through the journey (as opposed to the sluggishness of oversleep that AC gives you)? NO.<br /><br />*I hold the view that if friends go for a movie or dining together, everyone should share the expenses. This is even when it is a small group of two or three, even when it is a modest place where food/movie ticket does not cost much. In my roomie Richa’s words, I am a contri person (one who believes in contributing, apparently).<br /><br />#And my friend goes “Yieeew! How can you be cheap enough to ask your friend for 40 bucks spent on French Fries?”<br /><br />^But does she know of the glorious feeling that says ‘40 or 4000 does not matter, all my friends are equals.’ NO.<br /><br />*I love the art of supermarket shopping and am a master at it. The mastery is over FMCG price watching. Let me explain. I take an article that is a potential buy, look at the packaging, check the price and net quantity, compare it with other brands on offer and decide which one is a better option. This also means that if Surf is available in a 450g pack (I hate the ‘non standard weight’ trick that companies have come up with to cheat consumers) and Ariel is available in, let’s say 650g packs, I actually stand there and do the math to find out the 50g price of each one. Sigh. Tedious, I know; but I do it nevertheless.<br /><br />#Thank God, only I know this. :D<br /><br />^But I myself know that this can be done only when I am shopping alone. Else, any person who potentially understands the calculations going on inside me could just murder me. YES.<br /><br />I am sure you got a fair idea about the hard and fast middle class ideologies that I live by. Except one time, no comment from any friend has offended or hurt me (the exception obviously came from a girl friend in the quantity over quality instance). Guess why? I am proud of it, that’s why! I have grown up watching a simple living father and mother who pretty much led the same lifestyle when their salaries were in five digits and when it later turned to six digits. <span style="font-style: italic;">Achan</span> still thinks it is a waste to spend more than a thousand rupees on a shirt. <span style="font-style: italic;">Amma</span> still thinks there is no need to drive alone in a car and go to <span style="font-style: italic;">Kottayam</span> town when she can ‘comfortably’ get into a ‘line’ bus and get back. Now, with such a set of parents, can I be any different?<br /><br />This is not to say that I don’t have the greed to earn lots of money. My parents have never had that, but I do. I dream about a day when I have enough money to travel the globe and such other things. But when it comes to actually spending it, I think I will remain the middle class girl that I am and choose what is cheap. And you know what? I think I will still enjoy finer things of life. Which definition is not subjective anyway? My life, I define.<br /><br />PS : The bit about <span style="font-style: italic;">Achan</span> booking the ticket should not be misconstrued. That does not mean him paying for it. He pays anyways whether I book or he books. The point is when he books himself PHYSICALLY and I am not around, he makes sure I have some luxury. <br /></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-80635976536985717782009-06-24T14:18:00.014+05:302009-09-18T15:47:23.637+05:30Hunting in the dark or dreaming big?<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARDRA%7E1.IRI%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARDRA%7E1.IRI%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" 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style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal">In my dictionary, boredom appears quite close to depression. That is somewhat the frame of mind that I am in, right now. </p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal">To give some background information, I am currently at my second internship with<a href="http://www.iridiuminteractive.com/"> </a><a href="http://www.iridiuminteractive.com/">iridiuminteractive.com</a> at Hyderabad. I joined just ten days back and I am already seething in agony. The lovely people here have done nothing gross unto me. But an ounce of homesickness garnished with ample amount of boredom and loneliness do the trick. I spent my longest vacation at home in May – June 2009 after I left Kerala in 2006 for greener pastures (known by the name <a href="http://www.google.com/">Google</a>, back then). Seven weeks of absolute glory being the mademoiselle spoilt me. Its remnants are still somewhere inside contributing to the pain I mentioned above. </p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal">Then, there is an emptiness that has encapsulated <a href="http://www.uohyd.ernet.in/">my university</a>. Many students are still there; it is just the MA lot that is missing. Most of my friends have also come back from home for their respective internships. However, it is just *dry.* I do not know how to describe it any better. A cloud of sorrow just pours down on me as soon as I get back from work. A frustratingly slow computer at work and the four-change-marathon-auto/bus journey to and fro don’t help a bit. <span style=""> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal">Amidst all this madness, I have been thinking a lot about what I shall be doing after my Masters. Since this is just a year away, may be ‘the thinking’ is a right thing to do. But I have discovered that I am hunting in the dark. You know why? Because I am absolutely clueless as to what I will do. </p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal">I always knew I wanted to do a <a href="http://snscomm.uohyd.ernet.in/sns/comm/web/home.html">Masters in Communication</a> because it is a discipline that fascinated me with the creativity that it comes packed with. I cannot be happier that I am doing it now, and also, from the <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Cities/Hyderabad/HCU_aims_at_global_top_slot/rssarticleshow/3848012.cms">second best university in the country.</a> However, what after that? Is it an option to become what 99.9% people ask me when they hear about my course? “So, you’re gonna be a.. journalist.. I guess?” Frankly, I don’t want to be. An ad-person? A PR specialist? A television producer? A communication academician? Options are so many; but I have an answer in none. </p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p face="georgia" style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;" class="MsoNormal">My basic issue is that I cannot get comfortable with the idea of doing one job for my entire life. I also hate the temporality of most jobs – the 9 – 6 tag irritates me. I am all for working when there is work to do.<span style=""> </span>But when there isn’t, one should not force me to sit and stare at a computer until clock ticks 6pm. The mention of a computer reminds me that two and a quarter years at <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.google.com">Google </a>convinced me that I am incapable to work with computers five days a week, twelve months a year. My fingers and hands just do not co-operate. The callus on my right index finger that has rendered it useless and another one forming on the middle finger due to overuse with mouse, just say the same thing. Two months of internship have reaffirmed this to me and I know that my right hand hates me from the way it refuses to budge.</p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">Basically, my freedom is extremely important for me. The freedom to decide one morning that I don’t feel like it to go anywhere. The freedom to go on an unplanned holiday to </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:lucida grande;" >Hampi</span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"> to relive some good memories. The freedom to watch YouTube video and browse blogs whenever. The freedom to know that I am financially secure in spite of any indulgences. Sounds really tough a dream to materialise, right?</span>
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: lucida grande;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I may be hunting in the dark. Or may be, I am dreaming big. Time will give me the answer. And I am waiting patiently.</span>
<br /></p> Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-45606789724200273402009-06-17T10:09:00.003+05:302009-06-17T10:49:04.335+05:30Post Hatke!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Drum rolls! Here is the first guest post on my blog. It comes from a very dear friend who sweetly asked if I would be 'kind' enough to 'host' him. Being the nice person that I am, you would know what I said. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">He is a bigger movie buff than I am, so it is befitting that he is doing a movie review here. Have a ball!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">They are Gonna Hang me in the Mornin'..<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sreyas S S</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">3:10 to</span></i></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;"> <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on"><i style="">Yuma</i></st1:place></st1:city><i style=""> </i>is the remake of a 1957 film of the same name. Both films are based on a short story by Elmore Leonard. Dan Evans (Christian Bale) is a rancher who is struggling to support his family and is mired in debt. The creditor threatens to take over his barn in a week if he doesn’t pay u<st1:personname st="on">p.</st1:personname> Russell Crowe plays Ben Wade, leader of a notorious band of outlaws feared in the region for their ruthlessness. Ben Wade is cruel and evil. But they are not the only traits of his personality. He is intelligent, suave and practically oozes charm in every scene. He quotes from the bible at opportune moments during conversation and makes dainty pencil sketches of things that draw his attention. He also has a thing for women with green eyes. Crowe completely owns the role. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">After robbing a stagecoach belonging to the railroad company, Ben Wade stops by at the town of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bisbee</st1:place></st1:city> for a barmaid (Vinessa Shaw) he may have known from the past. It is there that he is caught by Butterfield (Dallas Roberts) of the railroad company and his men. Butterfield wants Wade to be handed over to the federal court in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Yuma</st1:place></st1:city> where he is certain to get a death sentence. For that they need to transport him to the town of <st1:city st="on">Contention</st1:city> where they have to make him board the 3:10 train to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Yuma</st1:place></st1:city>. Evans volunteers to join the team that is going to escort the outlaw for $ 200. As the posse travels with their captive, they are constantly attacked by Ben’s gang led by the particularly vile Charlie Prince (Ben Foster). “I hate posses,” he says after shooting men overseeing tunnel work who also might be a posse.<o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Evans is the straight guy. He is just, fair and is bound to do what is right. What is at stake for him is more than the $ 200 that he is going to get for accomplishing the mission. His son William makes no bones of the fact that he doesn’t think much of his father. He is torn by the fact that he is not able to take care of his family. He is disturbed by the way his sons look at him and the way his wife (Gretchen Mol) doesn’t. In the scene in the hotel room which is arguably the best scene in the film, when the local </span><span style="font-size:100%;">marshals</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;"> and finally even Butterfield walk out of the mission for fear of getting shot by Ben’s gang and others (as Prince makes an open offer of $ 200 to the town folk for every marshal or captor they shoot) waiting outside the hotel, Evans persists never once budging to the incredible odds at stake or to Wade’s offers of money for letting him go. When Butterfield tells him that he can have his $ 200 even if he doesn’t take Wade to the train, Evans realises that it’s no longer about the money or bringing a criminal to justice. Escorting Wade to the train becomes a chance to restore his pride and honour.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Ben Wade’s character is more complex. On one hand, he is a murderer with seemingly no remorse. He kills a guy because he taunted him in the night with a song. But for a man known to be so bad, he makes a few strange choices during the journey. Though they never openly admit it, there is a sense that the two men find something to admire in each other and even develop what maybe interpreted as respect. Russell Crowe gives a truly amazing performance bringing to life a character that has more layers to it than is visible on the surface.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">At its heart, the film is a character study. And a great one at that. It deals with the ideas of honour, respect, pride and of course the ultimate question – what is good and what is bad or what is right and what is wrong. And none of this ever seems forced or contrived, it is so inherent in the plot. All this while captivating the viewer with a brilliant story that allows tension to build and build until it reaches a breathtaking crescendo. As the clock starts ticking towards 3:10, both Wade and Evans discover sides of their personality that they never thought existed or thought were long lost. I wouldn’t spoil the ending but it is so perfect and in keeping with the tone of the rest of the film that it made me feel that no other conclusion would have had the same effect.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:100%;">Cinematography is awesome. Action sequences are done well with the cutting crisp and modern. The leads are supported by steady performances all round by the likes of Peter Fonda, who plays a bounty hunter with a score to settle against Wade, Alan Tudyk, who plays a doctor, Logan Lerman, who plays Evans’ elder son and Ben Foster who plays Charlie Prince, the second-in-command in Wade’s gang.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">3:10 to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Yuma</st1:place></st1:city> </span></i></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:10;"><span style="font-size:100%;">is a brilliant film because it does one thing better than most films – tell a good story and tell it well. Not many films have left me so shaken and amazed, yet pleased and satisfied at the same time. ‘Nuff said.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:10;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-81724318580380443492009-06-10T10:58:00.010+05:302009-06-26T17:10:15.351+05:30Family Matters...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">The last two days were fun because the whole family was together at one place - home! The randomness of Karakkonam, Pandalam, Changanacherry, Kottayam and Ernakulam took a leave for those two warm days.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Since </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> is leaving today for Dubai, he has left his work at Pandalam and is enjoying two days - exactly two days - of 'vacation' at home.</span><br /><br /><em style="font-family: georgia;">Akkachi,</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> of course, has started going to college since the academic year has started. But she returns around 5pm. </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Ettan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">, since his transfer to Changanacherry from Cochin, reports back home much much earlier than before. Kids reach home the earliest, around 3pm. In fact, I am the last one to reach home everyday (around 6pm) after wrapping up my internship woes. Working during vacation, I tell you, is one of the few bad things of taking up a 'hands-on-work-experience-requiring course' like mine.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Oh yes, </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Amma</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">! Without much persuasion, she decided to take an entire week off from her work. I had just suggested a Wednesday - Sunday, but she decided to make it a Sunday - Sunday. So she is full time at home like a homemaker. How nice! I think it is pretty amazing considering her obsession with work.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But when I think about it, it is not so nice. I mean, she is at home now, of course, by choice - just because</span><em style="font-family: georgia;"> Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> is leaving today and me on Saturday. She is no fish out of water or something. Yet I know that she is complete only when she is working. She enjoys her work that much.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">There are times when, as a school girl, I used to miss my mother being a homemaker - or housewife - in less polished terms. Most of my friends had their 'housewife moms' to their disposal - to dress them up, to cook great food and wrap that up to make yummy tiffins. I don't know if I would have wanted her to dress me up, but i would definitely have liked more exotic items for lunch than the breakfast </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">iddli/dosa</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">. I frequently used to get irritated when she told in the evening, after returning from a full day of work, that she was going to check up on the Ladies Hostel that she was the warden of. Or even if she is at home, her burial inside a heap of examination papers waiting to be corrected would cause a frown on my face. Ditto with her temple visits on Saturday or Sunday mornings that were extremely long and make us have breakfast before she returned. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >Achan</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> would tease her by saying </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Pujari </em><span style="font-family:georgia;">had gone out handing the charges over to </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Amma</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">, hence the delay.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But the major development about my growing up has been that I understand </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Amma </em><span style="font-family:georgia;">much better today. I know that her dedication to work has helped thousands of students (without exaggeration, at the rate of hundred per year). Had she wasted her time packing tiffins for me, I would have had momentary satisfaction, yes. But what about the compromises she would have had to make with her work? May be, a delayed submission of corrected examination papers which would also mean a delayed publishing of results for about hundred students? May be a naughty girl who would con the watchman and escape the hostel gate? And may be, far less reverence and respect as a teacher and a human being than she has now earned. Right? I am so glad that she did not make that compromise then.</span><br /><br /><em style="font-family: georgia;">Amma</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> and </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> probably hold the record of having attended the maximum weddings of their students. This continues even after they have retired. Mind you, it is just one indication of the love and affection she shares with her students. I cannot recall the number of students to whom she has been a mentor, local guardian and source of solace and love. All this and much more and yet attending to all the important things in the lives of </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Akkachi</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">, me and </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">. That includes the month long leave she took for my SSLC exam.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">It is funny how I have 'grown up' only in this aspect - understanding my mother. Nothing else has changed. My arrogance, anger, everything is in tact. I have petty fights even with </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Kunjunni (</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">exactly 6.5 years old)</span><em style="font-family: georgia;"> </em><span style="font-family:georgia;">because my emotional growth has stunned. In short, </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Akkachi </em><span style="font-family:georgia;">has to deal with three intolerant kids at home, when I have a vacation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Yesterday, when I was getting ready for work, </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> told me that we would be going for a family pic in the evening. That is one thing we do religiously from time to time. I would be normally very happy with the idea. But this time, somehow, I was not expecting it. I frowned because I was unprepared (read no waxing and threading done plus I am totally out of shape and do not want to be frozen into a frame at this point). Of course, </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;"> did not succumb and I silently agreed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The photoshoot was illustrious. Different groups, different poses. And yes, the first colour coordinated one for the family! :) Yellow and brown was the theme. God knows how it will come out!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Then, a dinner together. A good film would have been a perfect finale, but there is none left to watch. :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">All these good times shall now remain as memories forever. And the next best thing to do is start expecting the next 'together' episode which might be during </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Achan</em><span style="font-family:georgia;">'s </span><em style="font-family: georgia;">Shashtipoorthi </em><span style="font-family:georgia;">celebrations in September.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">And as they say, expectation is better than enjoyment. 'M loving it!</span></div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-31547005002030161962009-06-04T11:54:00.002+05:302009-06-26T17:07:10.000+05:30My Award on Kerala Film Awards Day!No phenomenal achievement, may be. But I felt really good and I thought I should share it with you.<br /><div align="justify"><br />Amidst all the Kerala state award declaration frenzy yesterday, an advisor to the Manorama Online team informed my supervisor that a senior Manorama journalist from Thiruvananthapuram conveyed appreciation for an article I wrote two days back. He mentioned the same with the least excitement possible, but of course, that does not stop me from getting excited. For him, it was the usual grind - someone said something is good. But for me, it was a huge - just the right impetus to mint out more stories like I have been doing for some days now. It came at a time when I had got used to the fact that I am in an environment where people hardly take the effort to say 'that's been good.'</div><br />Writing is clearly more tedious than I thought when it becomes your job. :)<br /><div align="justify"><br />With the risk of sounding narcissistic, let me break another news. Life has been really good to me for some time now. It can't be justified if I don't acknowledge that, right? My second semester results were announced last week, and guess what, I am the topper! I least expected to be, so I am doubly happy.</div><div align="justify"><br />By the way, please excuse the fact that the prediction in <a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5548528&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">this </a>piece went all wrong. It is Lal and not Mohanlal who won in the end. Blame it on media speculations! Nevertheless, go on and read it for my sake. ;)</div><br />See the other film award related stories that I penned:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5551948&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">Nalam Vattam Adoor</a><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5552248&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">Vilapangalkkappuram Santosham</a><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=3982928&articleType=movies&contentId=5552268&BV_ID=@@@">Kozhikkodan Chirikkoru Samsthana Award</a><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5552968&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">Bhagyam Kondu Vanna Thirakkatha</a><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5552548&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">Abhinaya Praveenyathinu Veendum Puraskaram</a><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=3982928&articleType=movies&contentId=5552550&BV_ID=@@@">Chinthippikkunna Cinema</a><br /><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5553069&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">Nanmayulla Cinemayude Niranja Vijayam</a>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-35273891081998284602009-06-01T16:54:00.006+05:302009-09-23T01:48:27.277+05:30Colours of Kanchivaram<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t9_0apZ5BlFtfgakQ6KZZWGaqWECTL21in0b10oOU3VL_goWxH8G6KUIHzLSDUooho1KgW6mD9f8z8it9WOt0A7rYtEhravRpGKuw-AxCKjW32doLh1gDpghe03kADZcAXprG_NETwI/s1600-h/prakash.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7t9_0apZ5BlFtfgakQ6KZZWGaqWECTL21in0b10oOU3VL_goWxH8G6KUIHzLSDUooho1KgW6mD9f8z8it9WOt0A7rYtEhravRpGKuw-AxCKjW32doLh1gDpghe03kADZcAXprG_NETwI/s320/prakash.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384388732333121058" /></a><div align="justify">I have only faint memories of the movies that I watched during IFFK, last year. I had told you all, watching 35 movies back to back in just seven days can be quite tiresome. But <em>Kanchivaram</em> is an exception. My brain has captured this one movie crystal-clearly! The colours of <em>Kanchivaram</em> were that enthralling.<br /><br />I am a fan of Priyadarshan movies from the 90s. But I lost my admiration for him when I watched a disaster called <em>Vettom</em>. And numerous other badly remade Malayalam movies in Hindi. But still, the name of this movie on the list of film screenings struck a chord with me, and I knew I wanted to go for it.<br /><br /><em>Kanchivaram</em> is set in the legendary location where the renowned silk took its birth and from where it continues to unravel mysteries of beauty. Although the film is set against the backdrop of a growing communist philosophy, the basic thread of the movie is a very personal experience of the protagonist <em>Venkadam</em> (played by Prakash Raj). It talks movingly about the tragedy of a weaver who creates numerous expensive sarees for the affluent, but cannot afford one for his own daughter. However, he goes ahead and proclaims when his daughter <em>Thamarai</em> is born that he will get her married in a <em>pattupudavai.</em> The struggles that he goes through to materialise that word is <em>Kanchivaram</em> in a nutshell.<br /><br />Prakash Raj's performance is picture-perfect. His bond with his daughter comes off so well on the screen; you cannot help feeling empathetic. Each time he called out <em>"Thamarai,"</em> my heart went out to him. His helplessness at various moments through the film - when he loses his wife and becomes a single father, when he has to forgo his ideals and steal from work and when he finally loses his daughter for whom he struggled all his life - will definitely move anyone humane.<br /><br />Shriya Reddy as the demure wife also deserves applause. That is so starkly different from the real person she is. Each other member of the cast, for that matter, is so apt for their character and has delivered a crisp performance.<br /><br />The cinematography (Thiru), the art direction (Saby Cyril), and the music score (M G Sreekumar) contributes equally to the perfection of this masterpiece.<br /><br />The narrative style that Priyadarshan has chosen reminded me of Maniratnam's <em>Alaipayuthe</em>. But the interweaving of past and present has been done just as beautifully as in a silk saree. You sit through the movie with just one picture in mind - <em>Venkatam's</em> daughter in that beautiful red bridal <em>pattuchelai </em>that he has been weaving. And when you realize that the journey was to end with him doing the final rites for her wrapped in that very same drape, your heart sinks. It is *flawless* storytelling, pure magic.<br /><br />The movie encapsulates both the bright shades of silks made at Kanchivaram and the dull hues of the sorrowful lives of the weavers who make them. Priyadarshan deserves international recognition for this magnum opus of his. I am saying this with absolutely no partiality that he is a Malayali. It is just beacuse the movie is a sheer gem.</div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-16114345332958029212009-05-26T10:30:00.008+05:302009-06-01T17:42:34.661+05:30Pehli Pehli Malayalam Movie Review!<div align="justify">I am delighted as I write this post. It is surprising that I never wrote about my thoughts on any Malayalam movie before! It's not like I watched a lot of them while I was in Hyderabad. Still, there were a couple of them. May be because they were so rare. May be I would just sit and relish the experience of hearing Malayalam on DTS (and not Hindi) rather than blog about it! Anyway, better late than never, right?</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Within a month of reaching Kerala, do you know how many Malayalam movies I have watched? Five of them - <em>To Harihar Nagar</em>, <em>Banaras</em>, <em>Bhagyadevatha</em>, <em>Passenger</em> and even <em>Kancheepurathe Kalyanam</em>. Those are just the ones I watched on Big Screen. The others would be <em>Mayabazaar</em>, <em>Alibhai</em>, <em>Annan Thambi</em> and <em>Romeo.</em> Quite a cool number of movies to have caught up on, na? And how could I have not told you about it?</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Please don't be worried that I will draw up a thesis instead of a movie review to do justice to all these movies. Of course, I won't. I will stick to one that I liked a lot and one that I regret watching. Deal?</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><em>Passenger</em> is an offbeat movie. Yes, it has Dileep, Mamtha and Lakshmi Sharma who are all commercial artistes. It has Sreenivasan who has risen to be a minimum guarantee hero of his own stature. Its director is not a Film Institute graduate and was trained under hardcore commercial directors. Yet, it is an offbeat movie. Why?</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Just because it breaks the rules of being 'commercial' as laid down by today's Malayalam cinema. For one, the movie does justice to the script in terms of weightage given to Dileep's character. He is called the <em>Janapriyanayakan</em> of Malayalam cinema and is very close to superstardom. He could have been used to do all kinds of gimmicks, had the director ventured. But Ranjith Shanker did not. Adv. Nandan Menon played by Dileep tries to show off heroism, not for a second. Throughout the movie, the character has been downplayed and Dileep did a great job of it.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Second, the song that has been composed for the movie was used only for promotional activities. As a regular filmgoer who has gotten used to the recipe of a commercial movie, I was expecting at various moments through the movie "may be now, a song will come." To my pleasant surprise, it never came. The result - a tight narration with absolutely no non-sense to obstruct the flow. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Boy, the screenplay! It was simply fabulous (for lack of a better adjective). As the caption of the movie suggests, most part of the story happens in a day's span. Also, the story is not told from one character's perspective. The way Ranjith has linked the happenings to each other and blended the multiple perspectives to form a perfect symphony is commendable.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Also, he proved that one need not get preachy to deliver a message to the audience (except in a scene towards the end where Dileep makes a speech). The undying humaneness even in adversities is the theme of this story. The protagonist Satyanathan is a testimony to the fact that there are people who put at stake all that they have to help someone (quite contrary to popular belief, right?). Of course, Sreenivasan pulled off the character with elan.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Mamtha's return to Malayalam cinema after a brief hibernation is marked by a very balanced and believable performance as journalist Anuradha Nandan. I fail to understand though, why our heroines can't dub for themselves. Come on, Mamtha has won a Filmfare award for the best playback singer (Telugu). How much sweeter should one's voice be? Or may be, Mamtha was too busy. Whatever the reason is, it is high time Malayalam heroines understood that not lending one's voice to a character is leaving the performance half baked. One cannot be called a complete artist without an original voice. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">In this movie, the relief is that the voice was fresh - Vimmy Mariam's and not Sreeja's or Bhagyalakshmi's. Otherwise, it is as though Kavya and Gopika are gone, but their ghosts linger around. Hold on though; Vimmy was heard talking from Kaniha's frame (<em>Bhagyadevatha)</em> too. It won't be too long before she becomes another cliche voice. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><em>Passenger</em> is not a cinematic masterpiece or so. Of course, the debutante diretor did commit a few mistakes in terms of lagging the narration at times and creating certain utopian situations. Nevertheless, I choose to have a short term memory loss about that. Just because I genuinely liked the movie, despite these flaws.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">I particularly loved the final scene where Satyanathan comes home exhausted after an eventful day of life-risking incidents. Not knowing any of that, his wife checks his bag and shouts for having forgotten to buy tea powder. The plain reaction Satyanathan gives saying "Oh I forgot" with deep undertones of sarcasm and numbness that she, of course, does not understand, was a real cinematic moment, according to me. This movie train rode right into my heart. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">And then, there is this mess of a marriage that I went for. For God's sake, Suresh Gopi was the hero! That's the only reason I stretched myself although I had enough clues from the posters that the film is going to be a disaster. And surprises happen rarely with Malayalam movies. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Two event management groups, two brother-in-laws who cannot see eye to eye, a rich girl who is getting married, two prospective bridegrooms, and lots of colour threads all around to indicate Kancheepuram - that is <em>Kancheepurathe Kalyanam</em> in a nutshell. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">A helpless Suresh Gopi with a pathetic expression that reads something like "Why are you torturing me?" is seen adorning multiple bright coloured Khadi silk shirts and walking past the frames. A genuine attempt to recreate the look and humour of <em>Thenkasipattanam;</em> but unfortunately, the screenplay has not been penned by Rafi Mecartin. So the result is quite haphazard. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Sorry to say, but Muktha was a total miscast. The character was supposed to be a charming young lady with lots of style and screen presence. But she could not pull it off. Her introductory song was so damn insipid - also because of a lukewarm composition by M. Jayachandran that lacked punch and a predictable picturisation, but more because of her frame that gets lost among group dancers. And the thought that Muktha will end up as Suresh Gopi's pair scared me throughout the movie. No surprises again; that is exactly what happened. Thankfully, there weren't many romantic scenes or songs together. Still, imagine Suresh Gopi tying a Thali to Muktha. For me, the concept of wedding lost its sheen right at that moment. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Jagathy Sreekumar was the only saving grace in the film. The film had an ensemble cast of most comedians of Malayalam; yet nobody except him made me laugh. I cannot understand how he makes a golden twist with his part even if he is in a C grade movie. That is what is called talent I guess. And yes, there is a vibrant teenage girl who is obsessed with Sarath Kumar. Credits said 'Introducing Pooja.' I am guessing that's her. She looked quite promising.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">And what can you say about bad editing? Forget it. I don't think I should waste my energy.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Forgettable, formidable and plain frustrating. That is <em>KK. </em></div><div align="justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></span></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify"><em></em></div><div align="justify">PS: The only good thing this movie did is remind me of the gem of a movie called <em>Kanchivaram</em>. A masterpiece that I had forgotten to tell you about. That's coming up in my next post!</div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-73820901463394382142009-05-25T14:23:00.021+05:302009-06-04T11:32:43.339+05:30The High of Media!<div align="justify">The way I ended my last post, I am sure you thought I am hating whatever I am doing at Manorama. That was intended only to confuse you! ;) I meant that driving a car in the rain is a far better proposition to me than sitting in an office. Just that!<br /><br />So what am I doing right now? An internship! Right when the internship question was popped at the university, I made a note in my mind - <a href="http://manoramaonline.com/">manoramaonline.com</a> is where I want to be. It is close to home, ensures exposure to a daring combination of print and new media (my stream for Masters), gives a chance to flaunt my bilingual capabilities - the pluses were obvious. Of course, there were also people in place who could easily get me in. ;)<br /><br />So when everyone serenaded their way to Delhi, Mumbai and Bangalore, I crept my way further South to this tiny town of Kerala, my home, Kottayam.<br /><br />And guess what I am doing? Reading, writing and dreaming. In that order. All the magazines that I am a fan of, are available here. I am not going to tell you which they are for risk of destroying any image that you may have of me ;) Okay fine, here is a clue for one of them - think on the lines of f-letter words. Oops, please abstain from the obscene path. Remember? I love films. Enough now. :)<br /><br />So I read a lot of what I love. Then, how can I not write about all of that? I write at least a couple of articles a day and see smiles blooming on those people's faces who are saved from some work. Need I clarify that it gives me a huge high? Come on, I am a Leo. Very very easy to please. Ego boosts come almost naturally to our breed with the slightest stimulation.<br /><br />Just imagine how I felt when I saw my first story online, then? Okay, story means just an article and not a 'story' as my mother thought the other day. She read <a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073752205&articleType=movies&contentId=5505608&BV_ID=@@@"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Purushothamanayi Prithvi</span></a> and innocently asked me <em>"Ithengane kathayavum?"</em> (How can this be a 'story'?)<br /><br />Anyway, find some more of them below. Disclaimer: These are not creative masterpieces or my magnum opera. They are just stories written to suit the style of cinema and lifestyle sections of <a href="http://manoramaonline.com/">manoramaonline.com</a> which is not half as serious as a traditional newspaper would be. All of them are in Malayalam and the site can be viewed only on Internet Explorer.<a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?pageType=Article&contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073776555&articleType=English&tabId=8&contentId=5511189&BV_ID=@@@"></a></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMonline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073776555&articleType=lifestyle&contentId=5533068&BV_ID=@@@">Nainan Narmam</a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentId=5544888&tabId=4&contentType=EDITORIAL&BV_ID=@@@">Pattinte Rajadhiraja</a></div><div align="justify"><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=3982928&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5548528&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News"></a></div><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=3982928&articleType=Movies&contentId=5547368&BV_ID=@@@">Maniratnathinu 53am Pirannal</a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?pageType=Article&contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073776555&articleType=English&tabId=8&contentId=5511189&BV_ID=@@@">Russellinte Rasangal</a><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?articleType=lifestyle&contentId=5506188&pageTypeId=1073753560&contentType=EDITORIAL&BV_ID=@@@"></a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?articleType=lifestyle&contentId=5506188&pageTypeId=1073753560&contentType=EDITORIAL&BV_ID=@@@">Zoo Zoo... Super!</a><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?pageType=Article&contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073752207&articleType=English&tabId=3&contentId=5517749&BV_ID=@@@"></a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?pageType=Article&contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073752207&articleType=English&tabId=3&contentId=5517749&BV_ID=@@@">Veendum Oru July 4</a><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=1073752207&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5517748&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News"></a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?tabId=3&programId=1073752207&BV_ID=@@@&contentId=5517748&contentType=EDITORIAL&articleType=Malayalam%20News">Yathra Thudarunna Musafir</a><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073752205&articleType=movies&contentId=5502348&BV_ID=@@@"></a></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.manoramaonline.com/cgi-bin/MMOnline.dll/portal/ep/malayalamContentView.do?contentType=EDITORIAL&programId=1073752205&articleType=movies&contentId=5502348&BV_ID=@@@">Thakarnna Swapnavumayi</a></div><div align="justify"><br />No, I am not done. Remember, I told you about a third activity called dreaming? My conclusion is that I am best at that one. Gazing at the computer screen, I literally get lost in my thoughts. The other day, I was jobless and was watching an interview of Kavya Madhavan on YouTube. (Thank God, YT is not blocked here like GMail is. Google, I miss you. Freedom is what you gave me!) Apparently, my supervisor was calling me at the top of his voice from a distance of roughly a meter! A colleague had to literally shake me up before I responded finally. My tolerant supervisor thought I was engrossed in the interview. Now, you tell me how engrossed can I get with Kavya Madhavan? With Prithviraj, I can try! ;) Only I know that my mind was lost in some place which I myself have not figured out where.<br /><br />The concluding note is that I am on a creative high of seeing my articles on a platform of Manorama. As of today, the only downside is that I have been moved from the seat that I adorned for the last two weeks. The guy whose system and chair I was allotted came back from leave. And talk about invading a Leo's space. You will hear a roar! Grr....</div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-58133996033713301282009-05-23T11:56:00.003+05:302009-05-26T00:24:59.531+05:30The Monsoon has come, so have I!<p align="justify">The other day, one of my cousins was ruthless enough to tell me that he has totally forgotten me. Apparently, the only way he used to remember me was through my posts. Now that the profile is full of dust, I have been reduced to a dusty corner of his memory as well. That's when I realized, I should change the equations! </p><p align="justify">So here I am, back to the grind. I won't even get to the usual explanation and excuse grind. Three months lost are three months lost. Gone with the wind and the rain too!</p><p align="justify">Rain! Oh yes, I am at home, the land of letters, latex and lakes enjoying my summer break. Sharada sent me an SMS yesterday calling me a 'lucky one' for being from the land where monsoon originates! I was flattered. Truly, monsoon is monsoon only when it happens in Kerala. It is so effervescent and so omnipresent! Travel from Parassala to Parassinikkadavu on a rainy day and chances are, your car will be rainwashed throughout.</p><p align="justify">Coming to the monsoon this time, weather experts 'predicted' three days back that monsoon will arrive in Kerala in a week's time. And lo! The rains really had to prove them wrong. It arrived bang on the very next day. Those experts must be sheepishly smiling now, right?</p><p align="justify">The nature around has suddenly taken a different hue of green. A very dark shade that makes you want to go deep into it and explore the secrets and the stories behind. The brown of dust has gone into oblivion and this mysterious green has completely taken over. Oh, there is a famous smell that people talk about when rains first hit the earth, right? I could not sense it at all mainly because the very first downpour was, well, indeed a heavy downpour! I guess that smell (famously called <em>puthumanninte manam</em> in Malayalam) just melted away in the water. Anyone knows what this smell is called in English? Most times, my vocabulary is just not enough to talk about my God's own country. ;)</p><p align="justify">A friend of mine is a fan of long drives on rainy days. He keeps telling me how he loves the left-right movement of wipers as the car tries to evade the rain and rush fast. The screech like sound of rubber against glass 'exhilarates' him in his words! I could never fathom his energy as he voiced his wiper mania. But yesterday, I got a taste of the thrill. As I drove after a second show from Kottayam town to my home in Arpookara, I realized that it was the first time I was driving in such torrential rain. Add to it the tension of driving through an almost invisible road in darkness, I was quite on my toes. Plus there is dad by the side nerving me consistently saying “Slow Down” even at 40 kmph.</p><p align="justify">Nevertheless, it was truly an 'exhilarating' experience. Water is an amazing thing, you see. Even if your skin cannot feel it, it cools you from within. The gush sound, the translucency.. I can feel it as I write about it. It is that magical! When it comes directly from the heavens, in its purest form, it is all the more beautiful. Almost breath-taking.</p><p align="justify">The feeling of being in a cozy enclosure with an air conditioned breeze to add to the comfort and witnessing the most energetic flow of water right in front of you – I think that's what adds the exhilaration element to drives on a rainy day! Think about it. Just hundred centimeters away, there is a world of water out there waiting to rush in and drench you. It holds a huge suspense within– what if the front glass just breaks off right now? Now, I do think it is a phenomenal space to be in.</p><p align="justify">But right now, I am in a different air conditioned enclosure which is not so exciting - Manorama Online's office in the Manorama building on K K Road. More from this space, later. :)</p>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-78069980655774047082009-02-07T19:44:00.008+05:302009-06-26T17:04:45.148+05:30Home is where thou hearth is!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZzXva6ICB4TRPxptwusgRA_Bi8wT0Jo1PET2XyaRBgCujAVjG9qzbubW6G8elbDqne2IyKTG7vG-vGVewdiNNRLGIzzuFAEwVMXOogS1Yvax6Nu6I_4H4NuzN3eibJV7KM8Bu-W__YQ/s1600-h/IMG_0383.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300065151297806338" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 320px; height: 240px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZzXva6ICB4TRPxptwusgRA_Bi8wT0Jo1PET2XyaRBgCujAVjG9qzbubW6G8elbDqne2IyKTG7vG-vGVewdiNNRLGIzzuFAEwVMXOogS1Yvax6Nu6I_4H4NuzN3eibJV7KM8Bu-W__YQ/s320/IMG_0383.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Statutory Warning : This post is very long. As much close to my heart as well.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Most of us would agree that 'home' is not just a word or a concept. It is a world in itself. My version is that it rests in the security of our hearts with gallons of emotions compressed inside. I have stayed away from my home for the past six years. It has been a life changing time for me.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">When I first moved out to join my college hostel in 2003, I had not foreseen this change. In fact, I never thought about it deeply enough. It was a natural transition - something that everyone of my age went through. Although I was lull that I had to relocate, I had no regret as it was my decision to study in another city when my city of letters (lakes and latex too) did have a lot of options. It took me some time to realise though that I am not in the best place considering the monster of a warden I had. To add to the complications, she was my teacher too. </p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Okay, let me tell you that I am a good ‘people’s person.’ I have this gift of getting people to like me if I want them to. Teachers definitely fall into that category of ‘people whom I want to like me.’ My boy classmates from school always used to pull my leg mentioning my ability to lather teachers up. But this one was a tough cookie. I realised that people don’t cook up stories about ladies hostel wardens when they say they are frustrated souls. She created lots of problems for me including not letting me go home on weekends when all others went. She even accused that a majority of blank calls that the hostel received actually targeted me (I now see it as a compliment though). There are very few people, in fact, only one person that I have held grudge for a long time. She is that person. In a nutshell, my first experience out of home was very discouraging. </p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">My second year in college passed off in transit as I was constantly travelling Kottayam-Kochi-Thiruvananthapuram for various activities that included studying and compeering. Though I was officially stationed at home during this year, I never actually lived there. This was also the year when I realised that travelling alone helps you mature much faster than anything else. You learn to juggle between different modes of public transport. You become an expert in crisis management as you learn to deal with late trains and buses that do not wait. You realise the worth of every penny when auto drivers ask for exorbitant amounts to drop you from South railway station to your college that is a kilometre away. You deal with so many different kinds of people. Your alertness levels go high as you protect yourself from hands and god-knows-what-all that are waiting to grope, press, feel etc. Your respect for the range of womanhood increases as you watch your co-travellers multi-task by fighting, talking and cutting vegetables – all inside the comfort/crowd of a ladies bogie in a train. It did not take me long to become a fan of the Indian Railways for the amazing social service they did of which I definitely was a beneficiary.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"><span style=""> </span>In my third year, I joined the YWCA in Kochi which gave me my first taste of freedom and independence. There were friends who wanted to run away from the college hostel although they had less lethal experiences in comparison with me. So we were a perfect group at a perfect place. The curphew time of 6pm did not seem restrictive in a city like Kochi in those days, especially since we were all single girls with no immoral intentions. :D</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">YWCA days gave us the opportunity to walk the streets without having to worry about getting back somewhere when we did not want to; to bunk classes once in a while and catch the first day first show of much awaited Hindi movies in Sridar theatre; to roam around Convent Junction checking out the latest accessories and cosmetics in the endless ladies stores; to go window shopping through scores of shops in MG Road; to eat chaat as much as we wanted in Venkatesha chaat shop near the hostel; to gaze, stare and watch everything on road while walking to and fro from college. It was fun.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">My next phase of life was destined to be in a farther place compared to Kochi. Hyderabad was never ever an option for me for anything. But then, man proposes and God..<span style=""> </span>yes you know what. My parents found me a ‘home’ at a family friend’s place. My colleague from Google was with me as well. Chechi was really sweet to both of us. But due to unavoidable circumstances, we had to move out after three months. I was literally homeless and in tears. I remember that it is one of those few times in my life, when I was on phone with Achan and Amma and started crying without realising it. 'Home,' at that point, was a distant dream at the other end of the phone. But then, as always, God helped me find the right place to move into. And how right it was!</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Jeevan Jyothi Institute in Begumpet run by nuns has hostel accommodation, a retreat centre, etc. That became my 'home' for the next two years. I found new friends who fell into a wide range of age. There was a warden there as well, but with far less consequences. She was a harmless little thing who used to talk a lot. We never bothered about what she said and used to live life the way we wanted. <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span> This is when I got my first taste of curphew-free living. In a city like Hyderabad, where there are far more things to do in comparison to Kochi, we utilised this freedom optimally. Late nights were mostly for movies and almost never for parties; unless there was one organised by Google, in which case transport was taken care of. </p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Jeevan Jyothi witnessed me blooming into a working woman. My apprehensions of being alone in any place at any point of time, my fears of strangers staring at me, my inhibitions of going shopping alone, my unfamiliarity with solitary and silent thinking – everything vanished. More importantly, by the end of two years, I felt ‘at home’ almost always at this place. This means that I missed my home where my family lived far less than before. I could feel the goodness of going home when a day of work ended at the pleasant workplace of mine. I realized the depth of this feeling only when I had to uproot myself to move into my new abode in Hyderabad. </p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Resignation from Google which was another kind<span style=""> </span>of home considering I spent up to 14 hours a day there; having to move to virtually a corner of the city from the heart of the city; distance from my dear ones – it was a tough time when I first moved into my campus hostel in Gachibowli. In the first month, I used to often wonder – God, where am I? What am I doing here? </p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">But then, everything changed very soon. Great friends came my way, the complacence and calmness of the campus kicked in and lo! As I am writing this, I am feeling ‘at home’ yet again. Gachibowli is far away from the city. But there is MMTS (metro rail) that gives me connectivity to all the places in the city that are important to me. APSRTC buses are common too. Basically, considering I am a public transport-addicted person, there is enough reason for me to be contented on the connectivity issue. Also, I appreciate weekends much more now. That’s the only time I get out as the university is very much self sufficient with eateries, ATM and movie screenings.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">One thing I noticed is that the process of feeling at home was much faster here. Kochi, Begumpet – all these places commanded more time. I am assuming that I have grown as a person to someone who is used to changes, now that I have seen quite some. I wonder how I will deal with my relocation from here. It is going to be a big one and painful too. There are still 15 months roughly left.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">Having told you about all the different places where I felt at home and otherwise, a climax about my real home would be ideal, I guess. There are still moments when I long to get back to a period when I leave ‘home’ every morning with iddli/dosa packed in my tiffin box amidst the din of Achan and Amma getting ready to leave for their work. May be, that will never happen. In fact, I doubt if I will ever live there for a longer period than a couple of months. I see work and marriage ahead which necessarily might not be based out of Kottayam.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="justify">But does this mean that my home is no more mine? Definitely not. That’s the reason why I mentioned in the beginning that home rests in our hearts. My greatest strength, I realise as I end this post, is my ability to cuddle into that nest of security even when I am miles away from it. </p>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7155719806529689023.post-21248025885422265502009-02-01T20:38:00.003+05:302009-06-04T11:47:22.539+05:30A Slumdog, A Hero and A Wife..<div align="justify">Watching three movies a weekend is an overdose. You agree or disagree? Two months ago I would have disagreed. Now I agree. IFFK is for sure one reason. The other is the weekend that just passed by. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">On Saturday, I saw Slumdog Millionaire, finally. One lesson I leart is that I should not watch a movie so late, especially if it is being talked about, all around. Things about that movie were so all over me that nothing was new. Me being the loyal film-goer waited until I got a legal ticket to the movie without succumbing to piracy and black marketing and see what happened. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">I was wondering if we have seen such movies before. I cannot really recall names of films but everything looked so 'Oh I have sen this before.' I felt it was a normal masala Hindi (oops English) movie. Nothing so spectacular as such. A good one that makes you feel good. And yes, phenomenal music. Apart from that, what is the whole hype about? It may be new to Hollywood, but to us? I doubt. I guess we just drowned in the Oscar frenzy. I genuinely hope that Rahman wins though. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">There was a piece written by Arindam Choudhuri that appeared along with an IIPM ad in the Times of India. I am sure some of you have seen that. It read "Do not watch Slumdog Millionaire. It sucks." His main point was that the movie is just an attempt to position India as a land of slums; rewriting only our existing reputation in the west of being a land of snake charmers. I do not agree on the point that Danny Boyle had such heinous intentions. But there is a scene where a taxi driver beats Jamal up and he exclaims "See for yourself the real India" to his foreign tourist. The tourist responds "Now see a bit of real America" and pays him some money. The Indian in me was deeply wounded by this. Yes there are pitfalls. Agreed. This is a huge country with a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">huger</span> population. Righteousness definitely co-exists with cruelty here. My complaint is that there isn't a single character depicted in the movie which has a ray of positivity in him/her.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">I thought I was lucky to get tickets for Luck By Chance on the second day after its release. But while the movie was on, I thought otherwise. I felt the narration was a little slow. The ensemble cast is praiseworthy. The climax of the movie was super sexy. But I was generally disilluisioned. On an afterthought, I realised that it was the effect of back to back movies. It pulls down your energy and sensibility levels seriously. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">On Sunday, I watched <span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Veruthe Oru Bharya</span> after about three months of wait. I had literally prayed the movie would release in Hyderabad. That's how badly I wanted to watch it after hearing the soaring reviews from my friends and family in Kerala. Gopika has done such a brilliant job of the typical housewife that Malayalis are so familiar with. I almost killed Jayaram in my imagination for being the chauvinist he is. I really hope he is not like that with Parvathi, his real wife.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Moral of the story is that I have decided not to watch more than one movie in a day. It harms my ability to enjoy a movie much more than anything. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">PS: Luck By Chance is a good movie. Please watch it if you have a chance and get lucky. :P</div>Ardra Balachandranhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836689275113110344noreply@blogger.com0