POTTER-mania

Too much of a good thing is probably the best way to make it seem bad. I am not espousing Oshoism but conveying my feelings over the current Harry Potter obsession even though I would be the first person to have misgivings about whether the Harry Potter books can be called as a good thing. The Harry Potter phenomenon was touted as the best thing to happen to Children’s books since Charles Dickens and the typical media hype about the number of copies that were being sold, the amount of money the films were raking in and the author going on to be the richest woman in UK gave it just the right publicity it needed. There were exalting reports of how the Potter had infused the kids with an enthusiasm to read books and weaned them away from TV and the net. But then, as the Harry Potter series swelled in number, the books got thicker and the subject matter became heavier, the ennui kicked in. Recent reports have suggested that the books may not have pulled out the young readers as was thought before. The New York Times even reported that “According to the National Assessment of Educational Progress, a series of federal tests administered every few years to a sample of students in grades 4, 8 and 12, the percentage of kids who said they read for fun almost every day dropped from 43 percent in fourth grade to 19 percent in eighth grade in 1998, the year “Sorcerer’s Stone” was published in the United States. In 2005, when “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” the sixth book, was published, the results were identical.”

I do not hate Harry Potter. In fact I have to admit I did enjoy reading them – all the six books as e-books. With the final book of the Harry Potter series set to be released in less than a day, I’m sort of relieved that I didn't fall for the temptation of pre-booking it. I’ll wait until someone converts it into an e-book and uploads it on the net. I was never a big fan of fantasy and even though I did dabble with reading fantasy novels like one of the Malazan Book of the Fallen recently and the Grimm Fairy tales many years ago, I could never really relate to the hype surrounding the young wizard and his gang of friends. Afterall, I grew up reading Dickens and Enid Blyton at a time when the term “Gay” could be used to describe the carefree kids without having any sexual innuendoes, and their depiction of school life in the English countryside and other adventures gave me more pleasure than reading about a boy wizard and his gaffes at Hogwarts. Even after so many years I still prefer the Rilloby Fair or the Ragamuffin Mystery to the Quidditch nonsense. J.K.Rowling can never measure up to the understanding that Enid Blyton had of children but, to her credit, she was quick to understand the futility of trying to draw the kids away from their Playstations and their TV cartoons for, with the Goblet of Fire, the Harry Potter series ceased to be solely for the Children and probably found its niche among the young and not-so-young adults. With all the buildup to the Harry Potter finale, which is a corroboration of how smart and aggressive media marketing can turn an unremarkable book into a bestseller, I am getting sick of Harry Potter, sick of all the websites, online forums, news articles debating if Potter would die, sick of people who try to find non-existent morals in an ordinary book, sick of people who actually do find morals in it and sick of people who find no morals in it and raise spurious allegations on religious grounds. I know I have to grin and bear it over the next few days and maybe after things quieten down, I can read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows leisurely at some obscure website after knowing how it is all going to end.

Mediocre Mika

A poll on the Queen community, touting someone called Mika as the next Freddie Mercury, got me searching on the net for more information about this new kid. After repeatedly listening to Mika’s music (both on YouTube and on VH1) and hours of wading through the comments columns of the various online Mika forums, I have to admit I’m Laughing My Fuckin’ Ass Off. I’m LMAO not as much by Mika’s music but by his being so undeservedly compared to someone as awesome as Freddie Mercury. Their Asian origins apart, their childhood spent as emigrants, introverted childhoods, their interests in opera, their love of the piano and similar voice modulations in their songs may all be suggestive of both being cast in the same mold, but it would be plain common sense to see that Mika has modeled himself on Freddie. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then Mika is the “sincerest” singer I’ve come across. But, to pass a judgement that Mika is the next Freddie is pure misinformation, not just for the simple fact that there just cannot be another Freddie Mercury - ever, but because Mika is still a one album wonder and still has a long way to go to merit any comparison with any decent musician let alone the Queen great.

As for Mika's songs, “Grace Kelly” has a freshness associated with it, something I haven’t seen for a long time (11 million plus views on YouTube and still counting). It is No.1 on the billboards, maybe a deserving position, but I feel that the rating is something it owes to the lack of more appropriate contenders than its own merit. “Love Today” has a nice video and is a bubbly song with a good guitar work in the background and is bearing the brunt of overkill on VH1 of late. “Relax, Take It Easy” (horrible video) and the others are typical pop songs predominantly inspired by Queen though I could detect other influences as well. Just hearing “Lollipop” was almost enough to make me, as Monica Geller of Friends would say, “Laugh So Hard That A Little Pee Came Out.” No, I’m not a Homophobic Bigot, but if you still want to compare Mika with Freddie after hearing such a catastrophical song as “Lollipop”, you need to see a shrink at the earliest. Mika has been very lucky to have a hit like “Grace Kelly” so earlier in his career unlike the long struggle Freddie had before “Killer Queen” came along. Freddie had his inspirations in Jimi Hendrix, Aretha Franklin and Led Zeppelin too, but he never modeled himself or his songs on them and nor was he ever compared with them. Freddie's originality, in his songwritings and his onstage antics, was what made him what he is today, a legend. Freddie, as a performer, was what other singers strived to be, a fact enviously acknowledged by even Kurt Cobain in his suicide note.

Mika’s genre is Pop, maybe too much of a pop for my tastes, and even the inkling of a comparison of him with the multi-facetious predominantly rock star like Freddie Mercury would seriously put the question of ones sanity in jeopardy. Whatever little similarity that exists between them, ends with their voices, unless one wants to include Mika’s Sexual ambiguity as something common with Freddie’s open Bi-sexuality. Mika may have been the best Pop artist to come out in the UK after the Spice Girls, but he merits no comparison with Freddie even in his wildest dreams; he just doesn’t have the versatility or the personality of Freddie Mercury especially on-stage. If Mika can bring about songs that are even half the class of “Bohemian Rhapsody”, “We Are The Champions” or “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”, I’ll not only eat my words but, give up listening to Queen, for ever.

God's Own Controversy

Two recent asinine controversies vis-à-vis two of the most holy places in God’s Own Country have yet again brought out the rift between the conventional and the progressive thinking populace; the reasons for all the hullabaloo created being neither new nor novel.

The first case of whether women (more specifically pre-menopausal women) can be allowed to enter the sanctum sanctorum at Lord Ayyappa temple at Sabarimala is the more hotly debated of the two and the one argument for which I see no immediate or rational conclusion. The main basis of the controversy, the 41 day vow of celibacy, cleanliness and self-discipline being observed prior to undertaking the pilgrimage, is anyways shirked by most people nowadays. This also negates the argument against allowing women. Why would a woman’s periods cause her to become impure (sic) and lose her cleanliness status? How can a religion which considers fertility to be a blessing, look down upon the menstrual periods which are the very symbols of fertility? I feel it is time the Temple authorities and the religious heads looked into the relevance of such religious practices (incidentally most of them biased against women) if they want to ensure the continued existence of the Hindu way of life. The other counter arguments to allowing women like Lord Ayyappa being a Bachelor God and women being unable to make the tedious journey to the temple are as frivolous as they can be. Lord Ayyappa is a God, for Heaven’s sake and to say that He can be distracted by the entry of a woman who has come to worship him is nothing short of sacrilege.

The second controversy is the existing ban on the entry of non-Hindus in the Guruvayur temple. My take on it is very simple… Everybody, irrespective of their Religion, Caste, Creed or Gender should be allowed entry into Hindu temples as long as their intentions are noble. Hinduism is more a way of life than a religion. A Hindu doesn’t have to live by a strict code of conduct as set by other religions. Yes, there are scriptures, traditional beliefs and practices but whether they are followed is left to the individual’s choice. Also, there were no other organised religions in existence when Hinduism first came into being (I don’t believe in the All Religions Are Equal Bullshit) and I can’t understand why people, whose ancestors were lured away by unscrupulous theories, and who still want to retain the link with their erstwhile way of life, are being discriminated against. The ban on non-Hindus entering the Guruvayur temple is also futile because there is no way of identifying a non-Hindu from a Hindu more so if he is following the temple practice of being shirtless and wearing a dhoti. The Tirupati Temple authorities have devised a better approach towards avoiding such controversies by allowing non-Hindus into the Tirumala-Tirupati temple if they sign in a register stating their faith in the Hindu God. Maybe the Guruvayur Devaswom Authorities can consider such an arrangement. I only hope the Guruvayur Devaswom board realizes that such a magnanimous gesture will certainly do no harm to the Temple’s sanctity or growth of its popularity.

These indifferences of the two temples (and many more temples all across the length of Kerala) make me wonder if God still consents to residing at such places where Man discriminates against his fellow Man. For a state which boasts of the highest literacy rate in the country, these religious intolerances do not bode well and the sobriquet of “God’s Own Country” may very well be a misnomer and I’m pretty sure that for once God will agree with me.

To all the people who have been or claim to have been at the receiving end of either of the two temples’ bigotry, I cannot understand why you cannot worship Lord Ayyappa at any of the dozens of other Ayyappa temples all around you which do not discriminate between genders and why you need to visit only Guruvayur and not the other Hindu temples where there is no religious discrimination. Could it be that you people are publicity crazy or just a bunch of communists trying to find a credulous cause to further your personal welfare or indulge in the now popular game of Hindu-bashing???

Life in a Metro

The products of the Hindi film industry are mostly mediocre stuff, run of the mill love stories or rehashes of long forgotten films with ideas and stunts which are directly copied from Hollywood movies. But, once in a while comes a film from the Bollywood Stables, which breaks out of the typical Hindi film industry mould. It is this kind of a film which comes to pass as a breath of fresh air in an otherwise pungently predictable production progression of poor pictures. I usually have to wait for months for such a film, a film without lovers running around trees or parents conspiring to separate their lovelorn children or lovers sacrificing (sic) their love for the sake of their parents/friends or corrupt politicians and cops and a super-hero who wins against all odds, bashing up hundreds of goons in the process.

Life in a Metro seemed to be a film which broke out the Bollywood mould and it did try to, but somehow fell short. It was typical in a Bollywood sense that it was a rehash of many a Hollywood movie but, they were Hollywood movies of yesteryear and to the director’s good fortune most youngsters in India wouldn’t have watched it. As far as the performances were concerned, this might be Shilpa Shetty’s best display of her measly acting skills after her performance at Big Brother. Irrfan Khan and Konkona Sen were good but, they usually are so. The surprise package for me was Kay Kay Menon. I thought he was just a singer with acting ambitions but he put in a powerful performance. Kangana Ranaut looked good in her new hair style but that was about it. The Dharmendra – Nafisa Ali track was not only very awkward but also lacked the spunk and passion of a love story. The one emotion missing in it was Anger; no woman would so easily forgive and forget her lover who stood her up and abandoned her for his own selfish reasons. And finally when Bollywood showed a couple in love, making out on the bed, it turned out to be a 70+ Dharmendra and 60+ Nafisa Ali! The tongue in cheek backdrop of a BPO/ call centre makes an attempt to play on the audience’s perception of such places as a hub of all vices. The director also apes the new Bollywood trait of introducing homosexual characters who are afraid to come out of the closet; atleast he avoided the making a mockery of the gay character. One of the main flaws was improper presentation of one central character of the movie, not the misfit Shiny Ahuja, but the city of Mumbai. Mumbai was represented by the incessant rains throughout the film with the Metro band popping out now & then to play their stuff. There was no typical hustle-bustle of the Mumbai crowds portrayed either on the streets or in the railway stations and knowing the fast capitalist life-style of Mumbai I doubt if Mumbaiites have time for an extra-marital affair in their chock-a-block lifestyles.

The film was doomed as soon as the director decided to make a film about extra-marital affairs in India, without comprehending the maturity level required for such a topic to be presented and the need for a necessary amount of skin show which would be essential to the story. If the Shilpa-Shiny situation had been shown as Shilpa giving in totally to her passion, or if in the final scene, if Shilpa had walked out on her husband, I would have got up and saluted the director. Instead, he chose to play it safe for fear of offending the moral sensibilities of the majority which still cannot digest a woman looking for and finding love outside wedlock or dumping her husband even though he is a serial-cheater. The idea was right, but all it took was yet another cowardly director to spoil the broth.

At the end of it all, I’m still waiting for a non-typical Bollywood movie this year.

Disclosure

A modern maxim goes “Never Judge a Book by Its Movie” and in keeping with this doctrine, I avoid seeing a film that has been adapted from a book until I have read the book first. This practice has stood me in good stead over the years and though I have been disappointed time and again by movies that have failed to live upto the expectations, I always take solace in the fact that I have atleast enjoyed a good book. It is incredible how such a staggering number of excellent books have been made into mediocre movies. However, after many years, I have been proved wrong (or should I say vindicated?).

I first saw the movie Disclosure in a screening at the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), Chennai (Madras, back then) in 1996 and subsequently, a couple of times on television and enjoyed it each time. So, finally when I read the book a few days back, my high expectations were shattered. I can recall a lot of cases where the book and its big screen depiction have been good but this is the first incident I’ve encountered of a movie being a tad better than the book.

Michael Douglas and Demi Moore (Tom Sanders & Meredith Johnson respectively) have made such an impression on me that I picturized them mouthing the dialogues as I was reading the book. When Tom’s 4-year old daughter says, "Boys have penises, and girls have vaginas,” a dialogue which was not part of the film, I could imagine the look Michael Douglas would have given. The only reference to the Penis in the movie comes from Tom’s wife, who had a strong role as an ardent supporter of her husband but, has almost no role to play in the book. The description of the Virtual Environment System, which has been shown so impeccably in the movie is lacking in the book. Unless one had seen the movie, it would have been hard to imagine how such a system would look like. The character of Cindy, Tom’s secretary, a significant person with a meaty role in the movie is weak in the book. The mediation hearings, Cindy’s role in the hearings, Tom’s triumph and Meredith’s coup are all again depicted much better in the movie.

Personally, I don’t feel the book is that great a read (ok, the concept about Sexual Harassment being all about power and not about gender was good) and I would recommend the movie over the book any day and then, there’s always a first time for everything.

Lies...

Tommy Hilfiger appearing on the Oprah Winfrey show busted one of the biggest rumours doing rounds for the past few years. Apparently, he had never appeared on Oprah’s show before and his supposed statement, “If I knew that Blacks and Asians were going to wear my clothes, I would have never designed them.” turned out to be yet another Urban Legend, albeit an expensive one for him, considering the financial implications his made-up statement must have had on the sales of his products. The e-mail forwards (of which I was a recipient too) going around claiming Hilfiger’s racist remarks may not cease for a while and it was appalling to see an ad in the Times of India exploiting the false statement to sell some product without even a disclaimer that the supposed statement was false. This Tommy Hilfiger episode was the latest, I realize, in a long series of lies that we have been systematically fed over the years.

The Great Wall of China was supposed to be the only man-made structure to be visible from the moon. I remember quiz contests which had this question with its ostensible answer and I, myself, probably gave the answer in a quiz or two. It was one of my favourite bits of trivia in school and until a couple of years ago. Then, I discovered that it was a completely fictional bit of information, which owed its source to a Ripley’s Believe It Or Not cartoon. In fact The Great Wall would not be visible even at a height of just ten percent of the distance between the Earth and the Moon. It was another unsourceable lie concealed as a fact.

There were nine planets in the solar system when I was in school and in keeping with the tendency of schoolwork increasing with each year, I half-expected the number of planets in the solar system to go up too. Then one fine day, last year, the International Astronomical Union decided to expel Pluto from its status of a planet. The names of the nine planets I had committed to permanent memory, at some point of time when I was in my primary school, became somewhat incomplete now that Pluto was plutoed out. I can never understand how a celestial body which orbits around the sun, has an atmosphere and has its own moon can cease to be a planet. Whether the International Astronomical Union has the right to define what constitutes a planet is debatable but the school texts will, in all probability, soon be amended to show only eight planets orbiting around the sun and it will mean that I have been fed yet another lie.

Just not cricket...

The World Cup is over and the consistently better team won.
But Cricket has lost. Period.
The Aussie win, their third time in succession and the fourth overall, has tarnished Cricket in an odd, monopolistic way. I’m not saying the Aussies should have reduced their standards and played like mere mortals but, with grudging acquiescence of their superiority in the game, and with a tinge of envy, I berate the way they played the game, a way no other team can even hope to play, and a way which, if continued, will cause an already dying sport (maybe even in the Indian Sub-continent) to come to a swift end. The Aussies won every match by a considerable margin, their resources not being stretched even once in twelve matches they played and in the process made fewer fans than they would have deserved. However, it is ironic, and I pity the Aussies for it, that this World Cup will be remembered for a lot of things, the least of which would be the Aussies’ domination and their third straight win.

There was no spark left in the world cup after the first week itself, once both the sub-continental giants crashed out and the remaining 40 odd days of cricket were just an obligation. The four semi-final slots were decided even before the super-eights stage started. South Africa and New Zealand may have made it to the semi-finals but they were never going to be a challenge to the cold-blooded efficiency of the men from down under. The only teams who could and would have troubled the Aussies (and the Aussies will probably reluctantly admit to it) were the two Asian teams, who did not even make it to the super-eight stage, because they had a certain something which no other team in world cricket has – Unpredictability, a trait which was very much evident in the way they lost to so-called minnows.

A day after the conclusion of the World Cup, a leading Australian commentator & ex-cricketer comes out with a statement ridiculing the number of associate countries and insisting that the WC should only showcase the best. Sorry mate, but the most interesting match of the WC was provided by the minnows - the Zimbabwe-Ireland Tie and if there weren't any minnows, your country would probably have lost to a South Asian team and we would not have had the ignominy of having to watch Bangladesh & Ireland playing what should have been a colossal contest between the sub-continental adversaries. I can’t think of anything positive that came out of this 49 day, 51 match burlesque of Cricket (except perhaps Ireland getting into the ICC rankings) but the list of negatives is endless – The Longest schedule ever, Poor turnouts, No typical West Indian calypso music, poor infrastructures, under-prepared pitches, pathetic television coverage (never got to see the last ball of the over being completed and the first ball of the over about to be delivered due to the commercial breaks), Indian cricket down in the dumps, Windies cricket in pretty much the same place (been there for a long time now) and Pakistan cricket in an even worse condition, the umpiring joke of the finals, one sided matches, gutless cricket, financial losses for the sponsors, premature retirements, pre and post-match mindless gibberish by the Experts and a murder (not just of the game).

I envy, rather than pity, the late Paki Coach. He was lucky that he did not live to see his (and my) favorite game in such a pitiful state.
RIP, dear Cricket.

A Tough Decision

This week, I had to make a decision, which I found the most uncomfortable I had to make so far. And no, it did not concern a woman. It was, in hindsight, a pretty simple career decision, but which I complicated by thinking too much of things that were flimsy, to say the least. I got a good offer from a new company, not as established as the one I’m working for right now, but it was a better paying job with better prospects for career advancement. The decision should have been simple enough.
I had made the decision to join the new company even before they offered me a good package. But it was when I realized that I had to put in my papers and leave behind all that has been a part and parcel of my life for more than the last five years, that I developed cold feet. It was not just that I was leaving behind people who were much more than just colleagues; they were friends. I knew I’ll keep in touch with them over phone or through Orkut, but things would be different. We would have no office politics to discuss, no seniors to cuss over mugs of Beer, no conspiracies to cook up – it’ll be just an exchange of courtesies.
I would have to join as the junior-most person of my grade in my new company, even though most of my colleagues there would be ex-employees of my present company, some of whom were my protégés at some point of time. I would hate to work under some of those people but I keep reminding myself that I’m far more experienced than any of them. This is in contrast to my present position, where I have delegated most of my responsibilities to others and the majority of my work is to supervise them doing the job and going to extremes to keep myself out of their way so that the work goes on smoothly.
The main reason however, I think, was my qualms about settling down to a new set of people, new rules, new office timings and a new work culture (the latter being more relaxed than to which I am used to.) My fears were compounded by the fact that I’m more of an introvert at heart. I decided to talk to my boss and his boss about my decision and after reminding me about how my present company was loath to appreciate proficient people like me, both of them were vehement in their suggestion that I leave as soon as possible. My juniors amongst my colleagues were more cheerful and encouraging but what their motives were, I could not discern.

Looking back, I realize how silly my apprehensions were. Starting ab initio is a small price to pay for all that I would deservedly get in the imminent years. I’m planning to resign tomorrow and join my new company in a couple of days time. There would be new friends, new politics of a different kind, new people to cuss and new responsibilities to delegate to others. Hopefully, it would be a better place to work and this might be the start of a very rewarding career.
Touchwood.

Being Nasty… & enjoying it

I’ve been actually looking forward to getting calls from telemarketers ever since I decided to spice up the conversation by wasting their time as they are wasting mine.
Most conversations would begin as, “Good Morning, sir. This is Aarthi, (or Bhavana, Caroline, Divya, etc.) from ICICI (or HDFC, ABN-AMRO, Citibank etc.) I cut them off here, repeat their name and say, “Hi, Aarthi. A very Good Morning to you, too. How’re you?”
Most callers are happy to hear their name back though some of them are very professional and stick to their point of soliciting for a Personal Loan or Credit Card. These persons are quickly rebuffed and the call ends. But, a majority of them deviate from their purpose and do reply. And it is these people who make my day. Maybe they are happy to take a break from their monotonous existence or, think that they can convince me to go for their products or, like most females, are just plain dumb to realize that I’m having fun at their expense.
I talk about the weather (most calls are from local nos.), about their shift timings, ask them politely as to how they got my number (most of them mention a database – I’d like to strangle the fellow who made the database) and which part of Bangalore do they stay in. I’m surprised at how many people are happy to chat with me instead of going about their business. And finally, when they do come to the point, I just say, “Sorry Aarthi, I don’t need a personal loan right now but I’ll call u first when I need it.” Or “Sorry Aarthi, I already have a credit card of the same bank, but it was nice talking to you.” The call ends there but, I bet they are more cheerful when they dial up the next number. This is my idea of social service - bringing a smile to the face of some poor girl who is sitting in a cubicle for eight hours and talking to surly people.
If the caller is a male, I cut him off rather brusquely. Call me chauvinistic, but I just have no respect for a male sitting in a cubicle all day, wasting his life, trying to talk people into being interested in his products. If the caller is a female and refuses to fall for my bait, I am rather scornful and make it show in my words and when they disconnect the call abruptly, it makes me feel smug for a few minutes.
I have noticed that over the last few weeks that the number of calls I received from telemarketers have gone down from about 4 a-day to about 4 a-week.
Hmmm, I wonder why!!!