Mr. Tambourine Man

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

I have moved

Due to variety of reasons, I now post here.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

For a while, on that famous Sunday, it seemed that the kid would win. The God was matched shot-for-shot, wasn't playing at his best (throughout the tournament), and for once, looked hurried! He still lost the first set by a whisker, and wriggled out of trouble to keep the second set on serve at 6-5. 40-0 down on the kid's serve, God suddenly realised that he needed to only win five points in a row to take the set. God only needs to decide these things - they happen automatically after that.

The God had had enough now. He decided to finish it off summarily. 13 games later, the match had changed from a close one to call at 5-7, 7-5 to a largely one sided affair. Order restored.

There are many things that this Australian Open has taught us. The men's game is as unpredictable as ever. That a Cyprian, 54th ranked, unseeded, 20-year-old would make it to the final was shocking in itself, but that he would beat Gimlestob, Stepanek, Roddick, Ljubicic and Nalbandian on the way is outrageous! The God still won, didn't he? What's so unpredictable? Well, no one in men's tennis competes for first place anyway.

The fight for the second spot has heated up as Andy Roddick, the current holder of that title is struggling to perform consistently in Grand Slams. He might still hold that position, for no one else has been even as consistent as him. There's the hard working, counterpunching Hewitt who has been-there-done-that, and shows a lot of spirit each time he plays, but his game seems to be fading. Nalbandian is the only player who has the game to do well on all surfaces, and along with Agassi and the God, he is the only other current player to make it to the semifinals of all the Grand Slam Tournaments. He hasn't won one yet, and seems to be lacking that little extra that is needed to turn a good, solid player into a champion. The problem is not with his game, or his heart, but with his touch, his creativity, and luck. Safin, Nadal and Philippousis make an impact every now and then. All of them have the talent to make it to the number two spot. The problem is with injuries, and in Nadal's case, the fact that he seems powerless any surface but clay.

This is where Baghdatis enters the fray. He's younger than the rest of the pack, precocio

Huemehaha

Water Colder than Arctic ice,
Sprinkled on my scarred face,
Piercing winds, conspicuously absent sun,
A face! My Quest complete!

I know not where I was,
I know not why I was,
I know not what I was,
I know nothing but
Who she was.

She crossed the stream,
With footsteps as sift as the current,
Walking on the water, yes, ON water
Elegant as hundred synchronised dancers
“Huemehaha!” I exclaimed
A smile warmed the waters,
The wind was no more than a bracing breeze,
The sun dispelled the clouds
To catch a glimpse.

“I know not where I am,
I know not why I am,
I know not what I am,
I know nothing but
Who you are,” I said.

She never spoke, never.
And I never stopped, never.
I knew every word I said made an impact,
On both of us.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
No reply. “Everything,” I replied.
I knew I was right.
“Why am I here?”
“I’ll understand when I finish.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“To understand better.”

And it started.
I Spoke, and she listened.
A monologue? No.
She answered everything.
Through her eyes, hands, hair,Through me.

Monday, October 10, 2005

"My mind is filled with you..."

I watched this Telugu movie yesterday (WHY do I indulge in these 'dirty habits'?) on the bus that captured my imagination for a while after, to such an extent that I hardly slept on the bus after that. I sleep like a log on buses usually, and I sleep so well that sometimes, I ponder over the possibilities of creating a virtual reality world where I live all my life in the bus - a thought process that puts me to sleep immediately.

Now, this movie had these two main characters, who were neighbours and best friends in rural Andhra Pradesh as 10-year-olds. But then, the rich-girl-poor-boy divide strikes, and the girl's father is conveniently transferred to some urban location. They sing a separation song, and she gives him a timepiece that sings when opened. (Timepiece! Where are we - 1649?)

Then they meet again under weird circumstances after 18 years, don't recognise each other, then finally comprehending the situation by which time its too late - the hero's sister's marriage is in jeopardy for some strange reason, and heroine's engaged to an evil MLA's son. A bloody battle ensues where everyone beats up everyone else, and everything almost ends happily, but heroine's father with evil motives stabs hero in the stomach.

Hero dies. ('Yes!' I thought, 'A Telugu Film has the courage to kill a Hero').

Hero is resurrected! (A result of the heart-wrenching prayers of the heroine to Lord Anjaneya)

Then they live happily ever after.

***
I was struck by this movie - its oft-repeated storyline, its coreographed fight sequences, songs in exotic locales that have nothing to do with the movieand just the fact that it was such a horrendous movie! I have this theory now - a generalised theory that applies to everything in the world - you're always struck by / attracted to either the best or the worst, its the mediocre that suffer!

This explains why Ambarish (a fat, ugly Kannada Actor), Vijaykanth(a fat, ugly Tamil actor) have fan clubs with 50,000 members, and websites like these (http://www.indiadirect.com/captain/) in their honour! Also explains why I liked "Mansantha Nuve", "Hadh Kar Di Aapne", "A", "Baatsha" and "American Desi"!

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Common Heritage of Mankind

I have pondered for ages over a definition for CHOM - a word that I use more times than most other words, usually in a derogatory sense, for the word cannot be used in any other sense. I've heard that this word arises from the abbreviation of Common Heritage of Mankind, another curious term in international law, that has nothing to do with what a CHOM is, or what a CHOM does.

In defining a Chom as someone who has that cultural background, value set and appreciation of the finer aspects of life of an average Punjabi Hip-Hop listener with eighteen hundred and three Rakhi sisters, two real ones and twleve thousand other sisters-by-conduct, one confines oneself to cultural, religious or geographical variables. The fact is that a Chom does not necessarily have to be from a particular place, time period or background, though they do usually have similar such parameters.

Most characters (I cant think of any outside this desciption in fact) in Karan Johar / Yash Chopra movies are within the broad framework of 'Chom'. However, it is not necessary that one needs to live like a Kuch Luch Hota Hai character (with the 'COOL' chain around the neck, and fake Tommy Hilfiger bag bought from Palika Bazaar) to be a Chom. They come in all shapes, sizes and colours). It must be stressed here that there are lovable characters from these movies, just as there are lovable Choms (a small minority though)!

Chomness, or Chomity cannot be a cultural stereotype (its not really even a stereotype, if you ask me), or even an attitude; its a state of being - a State of Mind!

What stays in the Mind in this state is unfathomable, but its results are evident for all of us to see - "O yaar, Rock the Party!"

Friday, September 02, 2005

Identity

Today, I lost my wallet - the first time that's happened since that fateful day in Mangalore when a pickpocket helped himself to Rs. 38 and Brian Lara stickers in 1999, after our brilliant performance at the Prajavani Quiz.

Last night, the stakes were much higher - approximately Rs. 1000, and my identity - my ATM/ Debit cards, Driving Licence, tons of passport size photographs where I manage to look presentable, my Phone Book etc etc...

Its like losing a life.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Purpose?

My laziness to post on this Blog reached new heights today. I tried convincing myself that it was a wasteful exercise.

"No one reads these posts anyway. You're just sending these 'cosmic messages into the cyberspatial void', " I told myself, "its not literature by any stretch of imagination, and its got hardly anyone thinking." I doubted these statements - there were comments on almost all posts, I inspired Sita to write a post on her blog, and there might be a million people secretly reading your Blog.

I wondered whether I should change the name of my Blog - is 'Mr. Tambourine Man' too unimaginative? Is aandthirtyeights too complicated to type each time you wanted to get to my Blog?

Then I wondered - why the hell am I writing? Am I writing for others to recognise me, so that I become a well-known 'man of letters' one day? Or, am I writing for myself? Might be, ten years down the line, I'll look through the old posts and feel nostalgic - like when I read my old diary... Then why not maintain a fucking diary? Why Blog?

A tentative answer came to my mind resting this disconcerting sensation of feeling insufficiently clad (for some strange reason - maybe, that's just my love for randomness). The answer is this: there are some things that you just want to say. There is no real reason for saying it, nor is there an intended audience. You just feel a lot more secure when its said.

Now that I have said what I wanted to say, I can safely retire for the day.

Ciao!

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Leader

A test I took on some random website off http://www.livejournal.com/~e9ki/">Surd's Blogtold me this:

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Whoa! After being told that I was a Left Authoritarian by some other random test this comes as a bit of a further shock! What am I?