Of Bloodbaths and Madness

In spite of being a Tamilian, I have never relished the impertinences that pass off as song-and-dance sequences in Tamil movies. While the videos provide voluptuousness and sultriness with an altogether different meaning, the lyrics make one wonder about the existence of lyricists capable of penning down non-innuendos.

But whether the songs appeal to the majority of Tamilian masses or not, they definitely do appeal to the minority of non-tamilian masses that somehow manage to catch hold of one stanza and then spend hours together to fish out the whole song, before downloading it and spreading it across. Sometimes I wonder how these guys carry out the complex name typing in the search engines, for it's not as though the Tamilian alphabets and pronunciations are as easy as the English vowels and consonants. I think this is what they refer to as the power of the triple Ds - dedication, devotion and determination. 

Anyway, getting back to the point, in the past few years I have come across lyrical creations like 'Manmada Rasa' - involving a skinny guy trying to match beats with a girl almost double his weight, 'Appadi Podu' - I still haven't manage to figure out the video and the audio correlation for this one and 'O Podu' - don't know what's worse with this one; the song or the choreography.  

And now, there's a new kid on the block. This one's called - 'Kolaveri di' which means having a deep-set intention to commit a bloodbath. After hearing about the wondrous uniqueness of this bloody song - pardon the pun - through three different sources within a mere matter of hours, curiosity got the better of me and like the individuals specified above, I found myself mouse-pointing my cursor onto the Great Google rectangle and clicking on a YouTube search result - one of the hundreds spouted by the esteemed search engine - and had the full song at my disposal. Sung by Dhanush, son-in-law of the popular Tamil actor Rajnikanth, the song as been self-termed as a 'soup song'; whatever that means.

The song talks about a moon and its distance in the background of the black night sky correlative to a guy whose love interest is fair but whose heart is black and the guy's failure to understand why the girl doesn't reciprocate his love back...whew! And then to top this, the guy further goes on to add about how the 'soup song' is an anthem for all those guys whose love interests act as indifferent as this one's does...interesting, I should say.

As a note of positivity, I can only bring myself to commend upon the music director's beat - ironically, this one's not an ARR composition - along with Dhanush's ability to sing. Apart from these two, the rest is all a query to me.

'Why this Kolaveri, Kolaveri, Kolaveri di?’ he asks...and I can't help but retort, after listening to the song thrice, 'Why this manduthanam, manduthanam, manduthanam da?'

Courtesy - Fact or Fable?

I set store a lot by the word 'courtesy.' And when I say this I don't mean to imply that I adhere to the literal meaning of the word as described in a dictionary. I don't want a man to stand up from the dining table, just because I am going to be sitting there nor do I want anyone to say 'excuse me' 100 times, if they are having a bout of 100 sneezes one after another. 

When I use the term 'courteous', all I am asking is for a simple reciprocation for gestures that require to be done so. While growing up, I was dedicatedly taught to use the three golden words of the Englisg language - please, thank you and sorry. As the days went by, of these three words, I realised that the first and the last were seldom used. The third however, when used, came across as being uttered as a favour to the person who was actually doing the favour in the first place. Talk about ironies - nothing beat saying thank you like "yeah, whatever..."

The thing about courtesy is that no one can teach you to mean it. With all due respect to those who tried being the teacher with me, I wasn't exactly a model pupil. I can recollect this incident when I was about seven and my aunt had taken me to her friend' house. The friend was celebrating her daughter's birthday and while going home, she handed me a pack of pencils. In the excitement to see what brand of pencils, I had received, I conveniently forgot to say 'Thank You' making my aunt prompt those words to me. And I know this that even though I duly repeated the prompt, I wasn't being enthusiastic or meaningful about it. It became like a formality that I had to adhere, lest my aunt started to feel affronted.

And this is what is important. Not just saying the words like a mantra, but meaning it whole-heartedly. After all, it does not take much to mean them, does it? When we can ask for favours without any qualms, why does it take second, third and quadruple thoughts to bring out a simple two-worded terminology? And for those, who invariably get their things done without being asked, the least you could do would be to show - and mean - the most poignant of words to the person bestowing the unasked favour on you.


The world's populace is many and varied. There are people who you want to avoid but are unable to do so; there is that lot that you want and crave to meet desperately, but who avoid you and then, there are friends. No other relationship offers carte blanche to the level that friendship does; where friendship is concerned, it is like there is no courtesy and there is no discourtesy. 


This is perhaps the worst part of friendship; where one is revealed to bare everything because the unwritten rule and accord of friendship states that there cannot be any secrets between friends. And since sharing things is not a favour, the concept of being courteous does not even arise. One can push and shove, yell and cuss, ask and demand; but no way is one required to say sorry, please or thank you. It does not bode well for the culture of friendship, or so they say. 


For most parts, this setting seems to be fine. But there are times when one actually expects one's friends to reciprocate and they fail do so, leading to unmitigated frustration - not just with the culpable but also with one's own self. And while one might not feel pity for oneself, the feeling of expectancy of such a gesture, would leave the person further mired in guilt and despondency.

Childishness would demand retribution and disappointing the censurable in the same manner, but then one were to do that, what would be the whole point of being an adult and dealing with things like these maturely? Maturity versus immaturity, friendship versus expectation, society versus trends; the list of mental disarray needing to be disambiguated at these times, looks to have no bounds.


Things, it is said, have a way of falling into place. But even if they do,courtesy still would remain as disambiguous as it is. Or maybe, it is crystal clear and I am the one who keeps expecting something more than it could actually be imparted to; Could be that, being courteous is as courteous does.

Metallica - An Experience Unlike Any

When I first learnt about the existence of rock as a genre in music - about a decade and a half ago - my thoughts veered towards pelting of stones and rocks at a stereo. And since such a vivid imagination presented itself in my idea-starved brain right at the onset, it became the curtain finale to my initiation to the genre - even before the curtains could actually rise. 


To be honest, I must actually say that I didn't really take the pain to learn and understand the theme when I was trying to decipher its literary implications. And I must add that this lack of interest and enthusiasm led me far far away from rock music. It was as though both of us existed in some parallel universe - walking alongside, but with a distinct lack of possibility of a confluence.  

College life, however changed a lot of things. What was once percieved as being completely black or white, began to be looked upon as being murky and gray. The entire lifestyle changed and this change of lifestyle brought about an actual introduction to the world of rock music. Where I was once staring blankly at people discussing rock bands, I began to come to know about the various bands that existed; though I didn't really bother to look up about them further. After all, I knew something now as opposed to nothing before, didn't I?


There's a very popular saying - or is that a movie - about never saying never. It's actually quite simple to unravel this piece of philosophy and I can say this with much more confidence than anyone else I know, because of the number of times I have said "Never will I do this" only to end up doing the same thing. A few years ago, if someone would have prognosticated and told me that I would be going to a rock concert, I would have laughed openly at the person. But after a couple of days of travelling hundreds of kilometres and post watching a rock concert - Metallica no less - I must say that I have come to perceive the "never say never" phrase in an altogether new light. 


I was introduced to Metallica about a couple of years earlier, by a friend who used to be a fellow writer on a sports site. The first song I downloaded and listened to made me want to vomit my guts. The music was slow and the singer had this thoaty voice that made me ask myself as to who termed this band a "Rock Band?" But hey, what did I know; so I shut up and downloaded a few more songs just for the heck of it. 


Two days later, thinking that I could get a better perspective about the band and the songs I started to listen again, beginning with the same slow track as Nothing Else Mattered except a determination to listen to what the band had produced, even if my second thoughts echoed my first on the band being a Thrash (er). I must admit that it was Sad but True that I had indeed made a mistake about my first impression about the band. The singer was awesome and so were the guitarists and the drummer. Life without Metallica soon started Fading to Black and made me wonder whether I had to get myself admitted into a Sanatarium for what seemed to be fast developing like an addiction. 


I became a Puppet and the band my Master. Head-banging became a common feature in my house and my dad started to wonder whether my mental faculties and Batteries had started to fail. In this context, I must mention that I had also started to listen to bands like Green Day and Linkin Park and getting myself further acquainted with the sub-class genres under the banner of rock. The more I listened, the more I liked and I realised that music, in its entirety, is something that draws and sucks you inside it, even before you can say, "Whoa!" Transcending boundaries, it makes you relish the thought of being a music lover. You don't need to be an expert on the subject, you just need to listen to it and you'll understand the passion that goes behind every song. 

Getting back to Metallica, after poring every bit of news I could accumulate about the band, I realised that they had never toured India. It was like The Day that Never Came and I began to wonder whether I would ever get to go to a Metallica concert, if at all they did decide to come to India. And just like that, even before the thought could fully dissipate from my mind, there came the news that the band would be making their debut tour to the country. After the Long Nightmare of wait - in my case, relatively short - the ticket bookings opened and I finally was the proud owner of a Metallica concerto ticket. 






But second thoughts about the travelling and the housing came Creeping like Death and threatened to Blacken the whole aura of attending the concert. But just as things felt like Cynaide torturing the mind, everything began to fall in place. Relatives came forth and tagging along became easier. The Tolling Bells of time started to roll and the moment was finally there. Rather I should say, I was where, where the moment was. People surrounded in black t-shirts, proclaiming their affinity to the band milled around while I tried soaking in the feel of actually witnessing a favourite, that wasn't so, just a few years ago...


Amidst rife speculations about the time limit and oppostion from family - far and wide - determination to make the most of the concert overwhelmed every other negativity. I was here and that was all mattered, everything else could be taken care of later. The first one hour was spent battling emotions of surrealism while the latter part was spent memorising every bit of the ambience around. 


The singers and the crowd were Fuelled alike; the energy vibes and the pumping enthusiasm all over were such, that they gave a new meaning to the word excitement. Hours spent standing, just to gain an entry were hazy and a distant memory; life was suspended for those two hours and everyone was on a high - as high as they could get, while being One with the Gods.


And then, just like every other good thing in life, the show came to an end. And just as high as the bubble blew, the more resounding its pop sounded. Where people had started to yell to enter the grounds, they went rowdy and ballistic while trying to get out. It came out as being exceedingly ironic - watches being consulted, fans talking about work pressure and office punctuality; life had finally intruded upon the dream.


Now, days after the concert, all that Remains is the Memory. As the song goes...Fortune, Fame, Mirror Vain, Gone Insane...but the Memory Remains...the only low point, that you cannot sing the Ra...Ra chorus single-handedly; you are definitely in want of a palpable crowd, who can change the feel of the lyrics just as it needs to be done.