Have you heard of this psychological test? One of the questions goes sth like "at which age would you like to remain for the rest of your life"? Apparently, if you say, "my current age" then you are very contented with your life as it is now. I wouldnt say my life as it is right now is terrible or ath like that. In fact, I think I am pretty much happy with the way things are right now. Even then, my answer (which, by the way, has been the same for a long time now) to the question will always be, "I would like to be 12 years old forever".
Because 12 years of age is when I started my 8th grade. And till today, I cant remember any other year in which I enjoyed *each and every* day SO much. And its not even like twinges of nostalgia have embellished that year with more charm than it actually had. I remember being aware that I was having a rip-roaring time even as I was experiencing it! A couple of my friends who were a part of the fun also confess that it was the single most memorable year of their life.
But why? I havent figured that one yet. Maybe it was coz we were young (true) and innocent (?!?) then. Maybe it was because we found fun and laughter in eth. Maybe because we enjoyed and cherished every single experience we had. I really cant say. All I do know is that no matter what the future holds for me, no matter what other memorable experiences I will get to go through, no other year can ever hold quite the same magic as the year when I turned 12! And thats why my answer to the psychology quiz question is always "12 years old".
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Monday, August 15, 2005
On Blogging
There are some blogs that I try to visit regularly (yeah, including the ones on the right side). I am surprised how frequently and faithfully some of those people update their blogs. I only wish I could do the same - but knowing me, its probably not going to happen.
Since I was a kid, I have always prided myself on my writing capabilities. Many people, mostly family and friends, have told me that I do a fairly decent job at writing engaging stuff. I was always under the impression that writing was my "special" gift, given that yours truly has vocal chords that reach the zenith of their talents while singing in the bathroom, drawing skills which last won a prize in third grade, instrument playing capabilities limited to impatient drumming while waiting and so forth. And so, every time I was down, I reminded myself that I was not so unspecial.
That is, until I got introduced to the e-world of bloggers. I am amazed at the number of people who have the knack of writing well. Many blogs are very interesting, entertaining and make compelling reads. And to think that most of them are written by amateur writers. My never-been-strong confidence that I am a "good" writer is now thoroughly shaken. But actually, I dont mind mind too much. After all, reading is my first love and I am thrilled by the availability of new avenues for pursuing my favorite hobby. Of course, I also get the added bonus of appreciating and learning from a wide variety of writing styles!
Vive les blogs!
Since I was a kid, I have always prided myself on my writing capabilities. Many people, mostly family and friends, have told me that I do a fairly decent job at writing engaging stuff. I was always under the impression that writing was my "special" gift, given that yours truly has vocal chords that reach the zenith of their talents while singing in the bathroom, drawing skills which last won a prize in third grade, instrument playing capabilities limited to impatient drumming while waiting and so forth. And so, every time I was down, I reminded myself that I was not so unspecial.
That is, until I got introduced to the e-world of bloggers. I am amazed at the number of people who have the knack of writing well. Many blogs are very interesting, entertaining and make compelling reads. And to think that most of them are written by amateur writers. My never-been-strong confidence that I am a "good" writer is now thoroughly shaken. But actually, I dont mind mind too much. After all, reading is my first love and I am thrilled by the availability of new avenues for pursuing my favorite hobby. Of course, I also get the added bonus of appreciating and learning from a wide variety of writing styles!
Vive les blogs!
Friday, July 08, 2005
GRE memories
Come July 10th, it will be five years since I took my GRE. This morning, I came across an article on Rediff which gave tips to test-takers on how to tackle GRE successfully and my own GRE memories came flooding back.
I took the GRE by fluke. By the time the third year of my engineering degree program rolled around, most of my classmates had already started tossing around words like GRE, ETS, Barrons, apping and university ranks. Being a self-proclaimed patriot, I turned my nose down upon such 'lesser' souls and proudly declared to anyone who would listen that I would study for CAT and do a MBA in an Indian management institution.
Such lofty ideals were nice-sounding - but, as the year went by, me and my friend V, who also had such similar patriotic aspirations, began to feel left-out. We felt 'out of it' whenever the my classmates (a whole bunch of them) held animated discussions about word-lists, clashes and where to apply. So, for a lark, but more importantly, to feel 'in' and to belong, we both bought ourselves the GRE bible - Barrons - and embarked on memorizing the word-lists. A couple of really boring classes hastened the learning process with most of my class zealously passing around flash-cards to utilize the time that otherwise would have been spent sleeping.
Of course, by then, we had invested enough time to warrant giving a shot at the actually taking the test. So, I booked my test dates - still just 'doing it for a lark'. July 10th was the auspicious day - as luck would have it, four of my close friends also had the same test-day assigned to them.
By July, some of the early-birds in my college had already taken the test and their test-scores were beginning to trickle in. Some had done good, some not so good but good or bad, the scores would immediately be broadcasted to the whole batch. So more than being concerned abt not doing well on the test and being rejected for admission into a US school, I was concerned about not doing well on the test and then having the whole college know about it! Finally I convinced myself that I would just tell everyone that I cancelled the test in case I got a bad score.
Along with the test scores, interesting stories of the ETS center and the GRE too were floating around. 'Its really cold in there - take a sweater'. 'Answer the first few questions slowly'.'Ask for lots of paper in the beginning itself'. 'They use cameras - be careful'. 'Do not leave any question unanswered'. 'Use the ear plugs.'. 'Dont forget to turn in your rough sheets when you are done.'
So, on the noon of July 10th, I arrived at the ETS center, scrubbed and neat, sweater in hand and butterflies in stomach. I dont much remember about how the registration process was - I do remember that I asked for extra rough-sheets upfront - for which the lady gave me a weird look and said that I could always wave my hand for more if I needed it. Then I was escorted to a cubicle, past rows of other test-takers, to take my test on the computer.
I dutifully stuffed the ear plugs into my ears and stared at the monitor screen as it spewed instructions on how to take the test. I remembered that a friend had said sth about some instructions on breathing exercises and waited for them to turn up so I could breathe and relax before I started my test. When the test-taking instructions ended, there were no instructions on breathing exercises - instead it just asked if I wanted to start the test.
So I took a deep breath myself and hit 'yes'. The first section I got was verbal (back then, the test score was out of 2400 with 800 points each for verbal, analytical and math sections). I am fairly good at English - even so, in all my practice tests, my verbal score generally trailed behind the other two scores due to the convoluted reading comprehensions (RC) that the verbal section featured. So, I was surprised when tackling the verbal questions in that section turned out to be a real breeze.
Then I realized that this must be the 'dummy' section - GRE computer adaptive tests always feature an additional verbal, analytical or math section - a 'dummy' section which would not be considered toward the final score. And these 'dummy' sections were always so ridiculously easy to do that it was very easy to spot them. As soon as this realization struck, I relaxed, and completed the section without much difficulty and proceeded to the next section in a much calmer frame of mind.
It was again a verbal section. This time, though, it was of the same level of difficulty as my practice tests. I then knew that it was the real deal and in spite of struggling a little, at the end of it, thought that I had done fairly okay. I dont remember clearly now - but I think we were allowed a little break after this which I spent to take a quick sip of water.
The next section which popped up was the Math section (to make it a bit more interesting, the GRE CAT pulls out the various sections randomly). Thankfully, I wasnt tortured with high-fundae probability or statistics questions like some of my unlucky classmates had been. The questions were of the more straightforward variety. So I managed to get through okay with this.
By now I was 3/4ths of the way done and on the home stretch. As the leftover, the next section which popped up, without any surprise, was the analytical section. Even during my prep, I had always been fond of the analytical section as it involved a lot of puzzle solving and logical reasoning. I only had to make sure that I did not get so deeply involved in some puzzle that I would keep working on it till the exam ended! I had been fore-warned that most people ran out of time on the analyts section. I was no exception - I think I was somewhere near the 30th (out of 35) question when the finish-warning appeared. I just scrambled through the rest of the questions and randomly picked up answers (following the 'do not leave any question unanswered' maxim). And then, I was DONE!
Now was judgement time. I thought I had done okay but I wasnt sure how the actual performance was. Yet, I was racked by extreme curiosity as to what my score would be. And for once (something which had been on my mind since I had booked the test date), I did not even worry that if it was a miserable score, I would have to sneak past familiar faces from my university, who were also taking the test on the same day.
In the GRE CAT, like a suspense novel, the score does not turn up till the last page. So, I had to fill out addresses, university names to which to send scores and what seemed like my whole life-history before I was finally taken to the page which asked me if I really wanted to see my scores and if not, that was the last chance I had to cancel my scores. Cancel my scores? No way! My head would have exploded out of curiosity if I couldnt have a glance at my scores no matter how good or bad they were!
And so my scores came up: Verbal:720, Math:790, Analytical:800. They seemed like big numbers. No total out of 2400 was displayed. So, in a daze, I added up the scores and they came up to 2310. I was astounded - 2310?? Nobody in my university had yet touched the 2300 mark that year. Surely it must be a mistake. So I tallied it all over again - yes, it was coming up to 2310. At that moment, the camera over my head must have captured one of the widest smiles ever at the test center.
I dont remember what the next sequence of events were. I just remember floating through the test center, beaming benevolently at all the other test-takers. I remember standing outside the ETS center with a broad grin and happily proclaiming my score to my fellow university mates when they asked. I remember feeling out of this world.
By the time I got home though, the euphoria had dampened a bit and I began to suspect that I had had some eye-malfunction and had wrongly read my scores (a feeling which stayed with me right till the day I got my original score sheet from ETS). In any case, thanks to the strong GRE gossip network, as soon as I got home that evening, I was flooded with phone calls from other GRE-takers asking for test-taking tips. The next day, when I got back to college, I was a minor celebrity! I was remembered as 'the girl who got 2310' for quite some time. Though other people got higher scores than me after that and a couple of them also managed to totally crack GRE with a perfect 2400, I still retain the honor of being the first to cross the 2300 mark in my batch in my university.
So what started as a fluke experiment turned out to be career-defining instead. With such a nice score, it would, of course, have been stupid to waste it. The next obvious step was apping to US universities and before I knew it, I was enrolled in the masters program in Computer Science at UC Davis. And after graduation, I started working in the SF Bay Area and still am. I still hold onto my patriotic ideals though - I am planning to return to India before I let my roots here go too deep.
p.s. In case you are wondering, as for the breathing exercises, it turned out that what my friend had said was, I should do some breathing exercises before taking the test to relax and not that the computer would instruct me to do them before taking the test :-)!
I took the GRE by fluke. By the time the third year of my engineering degree program rolled around, most of my classmates had already started tossing around words like GRE, ETS, Barrons, apping and university ranks. Being a self-proclaimed patriot, I turned my nose down upon such 'lesser' souls and proudly declared to anyone who would listen that I would study for CAT and do a MBA in an Indian management institution.
Such lofty ideals were nice-sounding - but, as the year went by, me and my friend V, who also had such similar patriotic aspirations, began to feel left-out. We felt 'out of it' whenever the my classmates (a whole bunch of them) held animated discussions about word-lists, clashes and where to apply. So, for a lark, but more importantly, to feel 'in' and to belong, we both bought ourselves the GRE bible - Barrons - and embarked on memorizing the word-lists. A couple of really boring classes hastened the learning process with most of my class zealously passing around flash-cards to utilize the time that otherwise would have been spent sleeping.
Of course, by then, we had invested enough time to warrant giving a shot at the actually taking the test. So, I booked my test dates - still just 'doing it for a lark'. July 10th was the auspicious day - as luck would have it, four of my close friends also had the same test-day assigned to them.
By July, some of the early-birds in my college had already taken the test and their test-scores were beginning to trickle in. Some had done good, some not so good but good or bad, the scores would immediately be broadcasted to the whole batch. So more than being concerned abt not doing well on the test and being rejected for admission into a US school, I was concerned about not doing well on the test and then having the whole college know about it! Finally I convinced myself that I would just tell everyone that I cancelled the test in case I got a bad score.
Along with the test scores, interesting stories of the ETS center and the GRE too were floating around. 'Its really cold in there - take a sweater'. 'Answer the first few questions slowly'.'Ask for lots of paper in the beginning itself'. 'They use cameras - be careful'. 'Do not leave any question unanswered'. 'Use the ear plugs.'. 'Dont forget to turn in your rough sheets when you are done.'
So, on the noon of July 10th, I arrived at the ETS center, scrubbed and neat, sweater in hand and butterflies in stomach. I dont much remember about how the registration process was - I do remember that I asked for extra rough-sheets upfront - for which the lady gave me a weird look and said that I could always wave my hand for more if I needed it. Then I was escorted to a cubicle, past rows of other test-takers, to take my test on the computer.
I dutifully stuffed the ear plugs into my ears and stared at the monitor screen as it spewed instructions on how to take the test. I remembered that a friend had said sth about some instructions on breathing exercises and waited for them to turn up so I could breathe and relax before I started my test. When the test-taking instructions ended, there were no instructions on breathing exercises - instead it just asked if I wanted to start the test.
So I took a deep breath myself and hit 'yes'. The first section I got was verbal (back then, the test score was out of 2400 with 800 points each for verbal, analytical and math sections). I am fairly good at English - even so, in all my practice tests, my verbal score generally trailed behind the other two scores due to the convoluted reading comprehensions (RC) that the verbal section featured. So, I was surprised when tackling the verbal questions in that section turned out to be a real breeze.
Then I realized that this must be the 'dummy' section - GRE computer adaptive tests always feature an additional verbal, analytical or math section - a 'dummy' section which would not be considered toward the final score. And these 'dummy' sections were always so ridiculously easy to do that it was very easy to spot them. As soon as this realization struck, I relaxed, and completed the section without much difficulty and proceeded to the next section in a much calmer frame of mind.
It was again a verbal section. This time, though, it was of the same level of difficulty as my practice tests. I then knew that it was the real deal and in spite of struggling a little, at the end of it, thought that I had done fairly okay. I dont remember clearly now - but I think we were allowed a little break after this which I spent to take a quick sip of water.
The next section which popped up was the Math section (to make it a bit more interesting, the GRE CAT pulls out the various sections randomly). Thankfully, I wasnt tortured with high-fundae probability or statistics questions like some of my unlucky classmates had been. The questions were of the more straightforward variety. So I managed to get through okay with this.
By now I was 3/4ths of the way done and on the home stretch. As the leftover, the next section which popped up, without any surprise, was the analytical section. Even during my prep, I had always been fond of the analytical section as it involved a lot of puzzle solving and logical reasoning. I only had to make sure that I did not get so deeply involved in some puzzle that I would keep working on it till the exam ended! I had been fore-warned that most people ran out of time on the analyts section. I was no exception - I think I was somewhere near the 30th (out of 35) question when the finish-warning appeared. I just scrambled through the rest of the questions and randomly picked up answers (following the 'do not leave any question unanswered' maxim). And then, I was DONE!
Now was judgement time. I thought I had done okay but I wasnt sure how the actual performance was. Yet, I was racked by extreme curiosity as to what my score would be. And for once (something which had been on my mind since I had booked the test date), I did not even worry that if it was a miserable score, I would have to sneak past familiar faces from my university, who were also taking the test on the same day.
In the GRE CAT, like a suspense novel, the score does not turn up till the last page. So, I had to fill out addresses, university names to which to send scores and what seemed like my whole life-history before I was finally taken to the page which asked me if I really wanted to see my scores and if not, that was the last chance I had to cancel my scores. Cancel my scores? No way! My head would have exploded out of curiosity if I couldnt have a glance at my scores no matter how good or bad they were!
And so my scores came up: Verbal:720, Math:790, Analytical:800. They seemed like big numbers. No total out of 2400 was displayed. So, in a daze, I added up the scores and they came up to 2310. I was astounded - 2310?? Nobody in my university had yet touched the 2300 mark that year. Surely it must be a mistake. So I tallied it all over again - yes, it was coming up to 2310. At that moment, the camera over my head must have captured one of the widest smiles ever at the test center.
I dont remember what the next sequence of events were. I just remember floating through the test center, beaming benevolently at all the other test-takers. I remember standing outside the ETS center with a broad grin and happily proclaiming my score to my fellow university mates when they asked. I remember feeling out of this world.
By the time I got home though, the euphoria had dampened a bit and I began to suspect that I had had some eye-malfunction and had wrongly read my scores (a feeling which stayed with me right till the day I got my original score sheet from ETS). In any case, thanks to the strong GRE gossip network, as soon as I got home that evening, I was flooded with phone calls from other GRE-takers asking for test-taking tips. The next day, when I got back to college, I was a minor celebrity! I was remembered as 'the girl who got 2310' for quite some time. Though other people got higher scores than me after that and a couple of them also managed to totally crack GRE with a perfect 2400, I still retain the honor of being the first to cross the 2300 mark in my batch in my university.
So what started as a fluke experiment turned out to be career-defining instead. With such a nice score, it would, of course, have been stupid to waste it. The next obvious step was apping to US universities and before I knew it, I was enrolled in the masters program in Computer Science at UC Davis. And after graduation, I started working in the SF Bay Area and still am. I still hold onto my patriotic ideals though - I am planning to return to India before I let my roots here go too deep.
p.s. In case you are wondering, as for the breathing exercises, it turned out that what my friend had said was, I should do some breathing exercises before taking the test to relax and not that the computer would instruct me to do them before taking the test :-)!
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Which are your happy songs?
Happy songs? What is a happy song? Well, since it is a term I coined myself, a dictionary is not going to help! But as you might guess, it refers to a song which brings back happy memories of some pleasant event in the past every time you hear it. Most of time the songs that trigger the memory do not have too much acoustic merit to them but I still like my happy songs because of the memory it recalls. It similar to smells which evoke memories. The scent of the first rain on a muddy road, smell of dinner cooking as you enter home...
Maybe having a song associated with a memory is not all that uncommon. But, I first noticed the happy song phenomenon when I realized that listening to some songs made a bad day better. There is this particular set of Tamil songs - whenever I listen to them I am transported to the wonderful trip to Mt. Shasta that I made with my friends. We did not have any CDs to play on the car stereo system except this one CD full of Tamil songs and we listened to it throughout our journey to Shasta and back. So when I listen to those songs, I can still see the picture post-card worthy snow-covered, white mountains looming in front of me. I can see the 4 of us in car, so tired out from finishing a stressful quarter, yet filled with enthusiasm to go snow-shoe-hiking. The snow-fight, which ended prematurely when one of us literally got buried in the snow under a relentless assault from the other 3, still brings a smile to my face. And then I remember how we spent the night in a cute cottage even though we did not want to, just because we paid for it and how we went to the movie-theatre because that small town with two main-streets did not have any other entertainment. Thinking of this on a hot summer day, sitting in front of my monitor makes the workday a LOT more bearable.
Then there is this other bunch of songs - which recalls a hike to a scenic lake like it happened yesterday. Five of us this time, water-less, food-less, nevertheless full of adventuring spirit setting off to finish a 4-mile strenuous hike. Reaching the top after a long-winded struggle and seeing a beautiful lake that made the upward trip worthwhile. And then the unending descent back to our car - when the anticipated 45 minutes trip dragged on to an hour and then an hour and half. Finally reaching the car and finding no place to buy a drink - pulling over at the first gas station and downing ice-cold Gatorade at such speed that we started shivering - man!
Not all of my memorable experiences have happy songs associated with them. And not all songs I like have a memory associated with it. But having a song subconsciously connected to a memorable experience is like finding a treasure when you aren’t looking - its an ordinary day and then, some strains of music and you are transported to a whole new world!
There are the bittersweet songs. There are a set of songs to which I can never listen to without feeling nostalgic and yearning for the experience to happen again. Those are mostly songs from my childhood - they bring back sweet memories of home but also the painful realization that I am no longer there. I guess that’s the case with every memory - depending upon the circumstance they either bring back wistful thoughts of possibly not experiencing it again or happy thoughts of adding on more such memories.
Happy and bittersweet, can sad be far behind? At least for me, yes, sad is very far behind. Maybe subconsciously, I don’t want to associate music with sad memories - bittersweet maybe, but not completely sad. So there is no antonym for happy song.
A happy song for me is like finding forgotten money in a jeans pocket, getting a hand-written letter or drinking hot chai on a rainy day. And it’s the closest I can get to paradise from my office cubicle, through my earphones.
Maybe having a song associated with a memory is not all that uncommon. But, I first noticed the happy song phenomenon when I realized that listening to some songs made a bad day better. There is this particular set of Tamil songs - whenever I listen to them I am transported to the wonderful trip to Mt. Shasta that I made with my friends. We did not have any CDs to play on the car stereo system except this one CD full of Tamil songs and we listened to it throughout our journey to Shasta and back. So when I listen to those songs, I can still see the picture post-card worthy snow-covered, white mountains looming in front of me. I can see the 4 of us in car, so tired out from finishing a stressful quarter, yet filled with enthusiasm to go snow-shoe-hiking. The snow-fight, which ended prematurely when one of us literally got buried in the snow under a relentless assault from the other 3, still brings a smile to my face. And then I remember how we spent the night in a cute cottage even though we did not want to, just because we paid for it and how we went to the movie-theatre because that small town with two main-streets did not have any other entertainment. Thinking of this on a hot summer day, sitting in front of my monitor makes the workday a LOT more bearable.
Then there is this other bunch of songs - which recalls a hike to a scenic lake like it happened yesterday. Five of us this time, water-less, food-less, nevertheless full of adventuring spirit setting off to finish a 4-mile strenuous hike. Reaching the top after a long-winded struggle and seeing a beautiful lake that made the upward trip worthwhile. And then the unending descent back to our car - when the anticipated 45 minutes trip dragged on to an hour and then an hour and half. Finally reaching the car and finding no place to buy a drink - pulling over at the first gas station and downing ice-cold Gatorade at such speed that we started shivering - man!
Not all of my memorable experiences have happy songs associated with them. And not all songs I like have a memory associated with it. But having a song subconsciously connected to a memorable experience is like finding a treasure when you aren’t looking - its an ordinary day and then, some strains of music and you are transported to a whole new world!
There are the bittersweet songs. There are a set of songs to which I can never listen to without feeling nostalgic and yearning for the experience to happen again. Those are mostly songs from my childhood - they bring back sweet memories of home but also the painful realization that I am no longer there. I guess that’s the case with every memory - depending upon the circumstance they either bring back wistful thoughts of possibly not experiencing it again or happy thoughts of adding on more such memories.
Happy and bittersweet, can sad be far behind? At least for me, yes, sad is very far behind. Maybe subconsciously, I don’t want to associate music with sad memories - bittersweet maybe, but not completely sad. So there is no antonym for happy song.
A happy song for me is like finding forgotten money in a jeans pocket, getting a hand-written letter or drinking hot chai on a rainy day. And it’s the closest I can get to paradise from my office cubicle, through my earphones.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
A finding
I visited the east coast last week. I had gone to NYC last Tuesday noon. In a fit of enthusiasm, I decided to get an aerial view of New York from the Empire State building observatory. Unfortunately for me, about half the population of the United States had decided to spend their day likewise too.
After spending 2 hours in a serpentine queue to ultimately spend 10 minutes at the top looking around, I have finally figured out why the US economy is not picking up at as fast a rate as it should be. It is simple enough. If most people in the US spend weekdays standing in queues to get to the top of the Empire state building instead of working and earning dollars to spend, how will the economy ever pick up?
After spending 2 hours in a serpentine queue to ultimately spend 10 minutes at the top looking around, I have finally figured out why the US economy is not picking up at as fast a rate as it should be. It is simple enough. If most people in the US spend weekdays standing in queues to get to the top of the Empire state building instead of working and earning dollars to spend, how will the economy ever pick up?
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Anniyan
I watched director Shankar's latest, Anniyan, yesterday. I have lately been out of the loop with Tamil movie releases. The few times that I did hear someone talk about Anniyan, I invariably asked what the buzz was about, and as my memory got refreshed, made a mental note to watch it when it got released. And then promptly forgot why there was a buzz about Anniyan till the next time the name cropped up. So, when my family, recently arrived from India, suggested that we go and watch Anniyan, another memory-refresh session took place, and I excitedly agreed to make a beeline to the local Indian movie-theatre.
After seeing all of Shankar's movies (all of which except Boys got my good-tp-value-for-money rating), I have now come to expect grandeur and entertainment on a lavish scale whenever a movie has a Shankar-tag to it. Anniyan is no disappointment!
I have since read that, at a 27 crore rupees making cost, Anniyan is one of the most expensive Indian movies ever made. Though I have read opinions to the contrary, I did feel that the graphics and cool/colorful look of all songs amply show where the money went. At 3 hours, the movie running time is long - but its 3 solid hours of non-stop entertainment, so no complaints there!
Of the principal characters, I have always liked Vikram and Vivek. Vikram is a _really_ good actor. I doubt if any of the other Tamil actors belonging to the current generation could have pulled off the role with such aplomb. Vivek's comedy, which had gotten rather stale in recent movies, is fresh and laugh-out-loud funny in Anniyan. Satha, the heroine lacks screen-presence and is a so-so dancer/actress. However, since her role majorly consited of wearing tummy-revealing costumes in the dance sequences, having a slim figure was the only real criteria for her selection I guess. Prakash Raj was good as were all the characters playing the parents/doctor and whatever role.
Each of the songs is picturized grandly. All the songs involving the Remo character had a similar look - the stylish, cool (MTV?) look. The other songs each sport a different look. I found one of the song settings and dance movements *very similar* to the "anbe anbe" song in Jeans. Much as I loathe Artificial Ash now, I must say that Satha's performance in the Anniyan song compared very unfavorably with Ash's endearing performance in the Jeans song. Nevertheless, all the songs were entertaining in their own right due to the nice picturisation and did not seem like a huge interruption even though all of them were just inserted in at random times.
The fight scenes have a major hangover from the Matrix style of fighting. I have never cared much for fight sequences. The ones in Anniyan were no exception. I thought all of them were rather long. Especially the last one in the martial arts school was repetitive and boring. After sometime it was obvious that nobody was going to defeat Anniyan - so what was the neccessity to hammer it in from different angles for more than 10 minutes? Also I found some of the scenes very violent (but you should get a second opinion about this - I am the type who has shied away from movies like D because I think it will be too violent).
As with any masala movie, there were inconsistencies. The heroine must have had a lower IQ than the dumb blondes in James Bond movies to not figure out that Remo looked a lot like Ambi until the movie was nearly over. The police are, true to Tamil movie tradition, bumbling idiots. They let the culprit escape even after he is literally handed on a platter to them. There are some more - but lets not quibble.
Some of the scenes reminded me a lot about Shankar's earlier movies. But who cares! I dont mind the "no progress with corruption" slogan being beamed towards me any number of times! Sujatha's dialogues are very natural. The characters just speak like they would do in real life - without props like breathless half sentences to punctuate every dramatic scene, exotic words which no one uses normally and so on.
As I said earlier, at 3 hours, the movie is LONG. But I doubt if you will notice that while the movie is on. The fast-paced screenplay and grand sets will make sure of that. While it is not the best of Shankar's movies or the most intelligent movie ever made, it certainly has the most important ingredient for a good movie - unadulterated entertainment. So, go watch it!!
After seeing all of Shankar's movies (all of which except Boys got my good-tp-value-for-money rating), I have now come to expect grandeur and entertainment on a lavish scale whenever a movie has a Shankar-tag to it. Anniyan is no disappointment!
I have since read that, at a 27 crore rupees making cost, Anniyan is one of the most expensive Indian movies ever made. Though I have read opinions to the contrary, I did feel that the graphics and cool/colorful look of all songs amply show where the money went. At 3 hours, the movie running time is long - but its 3 solid hours of non-stop entertainment, so no complaints there!
Of the principal characters, I have always liked Vikram and Vivek. Vikram is a _really_ good actor. I doubt if any of the other Tamil actors belonging to the current generation could have pulled off the role with such aplomb. Vivek's comedy, which had gotten rather stale in recent movies, is fresh and laugh-out-loud funny in Anniyan. Satha, the heroine lacks screen-presence and is a so-so dancer/actress. However, since her role majorly consited of wearing tummy-revealing costumes in the dance sequences, having a slim figure was the only real criteria for her selection I guess. Prakash Raj was good as were all the characters playing the parents/doctor and whatever role.
Each of the songs is picturized grandly. All the songs involving the Remo character had a similar look - the stylish, cool (MTV?) look. The other songs each sport a different look. I found one of the song settings and dance movements *very similar* to the "anbe anbe" song in Jeans. Much as I loathe Artificial Ash now, I must say that Satha's performance in the Anniyan song compared very unfavorably with Ash's endearing performance in the Jeans song. Nevertheless, all the songs were entertaining in their own right due to the nice picturisation and did not seem like a huge interruption even though all of them were just inserted in at random times.
The fight scenes have a major hangover from the Matrix style of fighting. I have never cared much for fight sequences. The ones in Anniyan were no exception. I thought all of them were rather long. Especially the last one in the martial arts school was repetitive and boring. After sometime it was obvious that nobody was going to defeat Anniyan - so what was the neccessity to hammer it in from different angles for more than 10 minutes? Also I found some of the scenes very violent (but you should get a second opinion about this - I am the type who has shied away from movies like D because I think it will be too violent).
As with any masala movie, there were inconsistencies. The heroine must have had a lower IQ than the dumb blondes in James Bond movies to not figure out that Remo looked a lot like Ambi until the movie was nearly over. The police are, true to Tamil movie tradition, bumbling idiots. They let the culprit escape even after he is literally handed on a platter to them. There are some more - but lets not quibble.
Some of the scenes reminded me a lot about Shankar's earlier movies. But who cares! I dont mind the "no progress with corruption" slogan being beamed towards me any number of times! Sujatha's dialogues are very natural. The characters just speak like they would do in real life - without props like breathless half sentences to punctuate every dramatic scene, exotic words which no one uses normally and so on.
As I said earlier, at 3 hours, the movie is LONG. But I doubt if you will notice that while the movie is on. The fast-paced screenplay and grand sets will make sure of that. While it is not the best of Shankar's movies or the most intelligent movie ever made, it certainly has the most important ingredient for a good movie - unadulterated entertainment. So, go watch it!!
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Around San Francisco in a Day? Sure, why not! Part 2
The carnival was very lively. Numerous bands/troupes were playing live music. All the music had (obviously) a latino feel to it and was pretty foot-tapping too. We started "peyt pooja" again. First it was garlic fries, followed by roasted corn cobs, followed by mango sherbet. By this time our stomachs were crying for mercy. So we stopped plying more food onto it and instead just browsed among the various non-food stalls. Surprisingly, unlike the music, most of the handicrafts had an Indian feel to it!! They looked pretty Indian and when we asked where they were from, the sellers confirmed our suspicion that they were from india. Obviously they were way overpriced over what would have been charged by Indian foot-path hawkers and so our purses remained shut.
After touring around the entire stretch of the carnival road, we decided to proceed to Pier 39. Just as we reached the bart station 16th St, we spotted a bus at the bus-stop and ran and jumped into it. The bus driver said that he would take us as close to the Pier as possible and then we could take the tram.
After a long and pretty uneventful ride (during which we discovered that certain parts of SF looked very much like any Indian city), we got off to get our tram connection. The tram was very crowded. Nonetheless, we got ourselves seats and arrived at the Pier after a short ride. It was around 7.00p then.
All this while a doubt had been niggling at the back of my mind. I remembered that there was something unusual about caltrain timings on weekends. The service stopped early or sth like that - but for the life of me I couldnt put my finger on what! As luck would have it, our numerous attempts to procure a Caltrain timetable since noon had failed. So I called my room-mate up to ask her when the last train back to San Jose was. She wasnt there and so I just left her a message.
15 minutes later, at 7.15, when we were fast becoming a merry part of the merry crowds at Pier 39, I found that I had missed my roomie's return call and she had left a message stating that the last train back to San jose left at 8.00p. Panic!! Now, I wasnt sure if this was the case because I distinctly remembered the service running till a later time on weekends. But, considering that there was just 45 minutes for us to dash back to the caltrain station if this was true, there was no time to verify this information.
By the time we got out of fisherman's wharf, it was close to 7.25p. Adventurers not being so easily defeated, we stood in the serpentine queue waiting for the tram. As the clock ticked, our hopes of any tram appearing began wearing out. We were contemplating getting a cab when the tram appeared. By the time half of the zillion passengers ahead of us got in, the tram was full and just left, leaving us still waiting on the kerb. Mercifully, the next tram appeared minutes later and we hopped in. Then, dashing our hopes of a speedy ride to the caltrain station, the driver said that the tram wouldnt go to the caltrain station but - we could take the bus, which, fortunately, stopped just a block away from where we stood. So we hopped out of the tram and ran in the direction the driver had indicated.
As we ran, we spotted the bus we needed to take. Only, it was pulling out of the bus-station before we were anywhere near it. Defeat stared at us in the face and I began scanning the road for taxicabs. Then S excitedly exclaimed that the bus was caught in a traffic jam and if we ran after it, there was still a chance that we might actually catch it.
So, there we were, two girls sprinting madly after a slow-moving bus. Eventually we caught up with the bus as it stood at the signal. We tapped on the door and the startled driver let us in. As we sat inside, panting, the clock struck 7.40p. We congratulated ourselves on our success at getting into the bus. Given that the bus stopped directly at the caltrain station and that the road to the caltrain station, being fairly straight from where we are, shouldnt take too long to traverse, we decided that we would make it for the 8.00p train.
We were right about the first part. As for the road being straight, whats the point of the route being straight - the bus decided to take us on a mini-tour of San Francisco before taking us to the Caltrain station. And we gnashed our teeth at every slow-down, groaned at every red light, complained about every stop. Eventually, even our laid-back driver got the drift that we were trying hard to get somewhere by 8.00p and speeded through green-lights instead of sauntering slowly up to every green light till it turned red as had been his wont earlier.
Anyway, as it turned 7.58p the bus stopped at the caltrain station. We hopped off and we crossed the road on red-light to get into the station. Hallelujah, the train was still there!! And then I realized, due the malfunctioning ticket machine of the morning, we did not yet have our return ticket and had to buy it before we could board the train. Nervously, we both plunged our credit cards into the machine - my processing went quicker and I triumphantly turned around with two tickets clutched in my hand - to see the train slowly pulling out of the station. I could have sat on the ground and wept. S was too stunned to speak. And then the funny side struck us and we both burst out laughing. Here we were with two caltrain tickets - with no caltrain to board it with.
Then two helpful caltrain-affliated souls, who had seen the entire drama of our mad dash into the station, told us that we could still take a cab to the next caltrain station and get into it there. By now, we were quite assured of our luck having changed and hence werent too suprised when we could not find a single cab in sight. So we enquired about further options and one of the guys said that we could still catch the 10p train though it was a long wait. And we were like, 10p? Isnt 8p the last train? And then it all came back to me. On weekends, the caltrain runs till 12a, but if you missed the 8p train, you had to wait for 2 hours for the next train instead of the usual hour's wait. That was what was unusual and that not 8p was the last train. Aaaaargh my roomie with her button-eyes (later it turned out that she had inadvertently missed a column)! The caltrain guy continued with his suggestions of things to do. By this time though, we had run out of all energy and of all the various fun things he suggested, chose to spend time browsing at the nearby Borders bookstore.
Once we reached Borders, we picked up some books and some coffee and curled ourselves up in comfortable couches for the next one and half hours. This time round, we had had enough adventures and so left at 9.45p to catch our 10p train. We stopped at Safeway on the way to pick up a few things. Nevertheless, for once in the day, we were ahead of schedule and reached the station with time to spare. The train was pretty crowded but we were too tired to notice. We got back to San Jose after an hour and a half. Then we picked up the car and drove back home. Once home, we carried out one last abuse of our stomachs with waffles and Nescafe mochacinno (which we had got a free sample of at the carnival) in lieu of dinner and then crashed.
And so we went by car, train, bart, tram, bus and walk on the same day. And so we went to previously unseen regions of SF. And so we went Run, S and A, Run! throughout the day. And so it was a whole lot of fun!
After touring around the entire stretch of the carnival road, we decided to proceed to Pier 39. Just as we reached the bart station 16th St, we spotted a bus at the bus-stop and ran and jumped into it. The bus driver said that he would take us as close to the Pier as possible and then we could take the tram.
After a long and pretty uneventful ride (during which we discovered that certain parts of SF looked very much like any Indian city), we got off to get our tram connection. The tram was very crowded. Nonetheless, we got ourselves seats and arrived at the Pier after a short ride. It was around 7.00p then.
All this while a doubt had been niggling at the back of my mind. I remembered that there was something unusual about caltrain timings on weekends. The service stopped early or sth like that - but for the life of me I couldnt put my finger on what! As luck would have it, our numerous attempts to procure a Caltrain timetable since noon had failed. So I called my room-mate up to ask her when the last train back to San Jose was. She wasnt there and so I just left her a message.
15 minutes later, at 7.15, when we were fast becoming a merry part of the merry crowds at Pier 39, I found that I had missed my roomie's return call and she had left a message stating that the last train back to San jose left at 8.00p. Panic!! Now, I wasnt sure if this was the case because I distinctly remembered the service running till a later time on weekends. But, considering that there was just 45 minutes for us to dash back to the caltrain station if this was true, there was no time to verify this information.
By the time we got out of fisherman's wharf, it was close to 7.25p. Adventurers not being so easily defeated, we stood in the serpentine queue waiting for the tram. As the clock ticked, our hopes of any tram appearing began wearing out. We were contemplating getting a cab when the tram appeared. By the time half of the zillion passengers ahead of us got in, the tram was full and just left, leaving us still waiting on the kerb. Mercifully, the next tram appeared minutes later and we hopped in. Then, dashing our hopes of a speedy ride to the caltrain station, the driver said that the tram wouldnt go to the caltrain station but - we could take the bus, which, fortunately, stopped just a block away from where we stood. So we hopped out of the tram and ran in the direction the driver had indicated.
As we ran, we spotted the bus we needed to take. Only, it was pulling out of the bus-station before we were anywhere near it. Defeat stared at us in the face and I began scanning the road for taxicabs. Then S excitedly exclaimed that the bus was caught in a traffic jam and if we ran after it, there was still a chance that we might actually catch it.
So, there we were, two girls sprinting madly after a slow-moving bus. Eventually we caught up with the bus as it stood at the signal. We tapped on the door and the startled driver let us in. As we sat inside, panting, the clock struck 7.40p. We congratulated ourselves on our success at getting into the bus. Given that the bus stopped directly at the caltrain station and that the road to the caltrain station, being fairly straight from where we are, shouldnt take too long to traverse, we decided that we would make it for the 8.00p train.
We were right about the first part. As for the road being straight, whats the point of the route being straight - the bus decided to take us on a mini-tour of San Francisco before taking us to the Caltrain station. And we gnashed our teeth at every slow-down, groaned at every red light, complained about every stop. Eventually, even our laid-back driver got the drift that we were trying hard to get somewhere by 8.00p and speeded through green-lights instead of sauntering slowly up to every green light till it turned red as had been his wont earlier.
Anyway, as it turned 7.58p the bus stopped at the caltrain station. We hopped off and we crossed the road on red-light to get into the station. Hallelujah, the train was still there!! And then I realized, due the malfunctioning ticket machine of the morning, we did not yet have our return ticket and had to buy it before we could board the train. Nervously, we both plunged our credit cards into the machine - my processing went quicker and I triumphantly turned around with two tickets clutched in my hand - to see the train slowly pulling out of the station. I could have sat on the ground and wept. S was too stunned to speak. And then the funny side struck us and we both burst out laughing. Here we were with two caltrain tickets - with no caltrain to board it with.
Then two helpful caltrain-affliated souls, who had seen the entire drama of our mad dash into the station, told us that we could still take a cab to the next caltrain station and get into it there. By now, we were quite assured of our luck having changed and hence werent too suprised when we could not find a single cab in sight. So we enquired about further options and one of the guys said that we could still catch the 10p train though it was a long wait. And we were like, 10p? Isnt 8p the last train? And then it all came back to me. On weekends, the caltrain runs till 12a, but if you missed the 8p train, you had to wait for 2 hours for the next train instead of the usual hour's wait. That was what was unusual and that not 8p was the last train. Aaaaargh my roomie with her button-eyes (later it turned out that she had inadvertently missed a column)! The caltrain guy continued with his suggestions of things to do. By this time though, we had run out of all energy and of all the various fun things he suggested, chose to spend time browsing at the nearby Borders bookstore.
Once we reached Borders, we picked up some books and some coffee and curled ourselves up in comfortable couches for the next one and half hours. This time round, we had had enough adventures and so left at 9.45p to catch our 10p train. We stopped at Safeway on the way to pick up a few things. Nevertheless, for once in the day, we were ahead of schedule and reached the station with time to spare. The train was pretty crowded but we were too tired to notice. We got back to San Jose after an hour and a half. Then we picked up the car and drove back home. Once home, we carried out one last abuse of our stomachs with waffles and Nescafe mochacinno (which we had got a free sample of at the carnival) in lieu of dinner and then crashed.
And so we went by car, train, bart, tram, bus and walk on the same day. And so we went to previously unseen regions of SF. And so we went Run, S and A, Run! throughout the day. And so it was a whole lot of fun!
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Around San Francisco in a day? Sure, why not!
So it was two weekends ago. My school-friend S had come visiting from Texas. We were supposed to go to Yosemite to do the famed Half Dome hike over the Memorial Day weekend. Unfortunately, the trail was closed due to unseasonal flooding - I guess this is the first time I have actually seen flooding happen in anticipation of a rare event happening. In any case, ditching Yosemite plans resulted in 3 days of time to go around other places in California.
On Friday, as I slogged at office, S kept up a constant stream of emails with suggestions on what to do on Saturday. Many suggestions came forth but it was obvious that her heart was set on going to the Samba Carnival in SF. Well, being the nice athiti satkar-kind of person, I agreed even though I have been to SF's Pier 39 enuff times to start waving acknowledgement to the store owners there. Well, as S pointed out, we were going to see the "real" SF and not just pier 39.
So we set off on Saturday around 1.00p - watching the first day last show of bunty aur babli the previous night ensured that we did not get up at any decent hour in the morning. We had decided to make it a total "adventure" tour of SF and hence parked and left the car once we got to the Caltrain station.
The first of the adventures started there - no matter what combinations, coaxing or kicking we tried, the ticket vending machine refused to vend any tickets. However, the nice conductor on Caltrain let us ride for free :-). We arrived at Millbrae a good hour later. There we jumped off the train to get the BART connection to SF.
I dont know if you have had the chance to buy tickets from the BART vending machine - it has about the most confusing interface I have ever seen for purchasing tickets - especially for hapless first-timers. After plenty of 'go back to beginning's, cancellings and oopzzz (much to the irritation of the people behind us in queue), we managed to get our tickets and sprinted to the train and hopped in just minutes before it left the station. The sprint pretty much set the pace for the rest of the day.
BART is rapid, true, but boy, does it make some noise!! The whistling screech it gives as it rushes through tunnels makes you feel like its going to get launched like a rocket and take off into space at any moment! Pretty much for the whole BART journey, we kept our mouths open and jiggled our ears periodically to offset the pressure changes. 20 minutes later, we arrived at 16th and Mission - from where Harrison St., the carnival destination, was a half-mile walk.
Being first timers, we were disoriented about directions. But, enterprising as we are, we set off smartly after consulting an area map on a nearby post. And walked, and Walked, and WALKED. No sign of Harrison St. All that was to be seen was the sun shining merrily in spite of dire morning weather forecasts of windy and cold conditions, plenty of restaurants and throngs of people. Finally, thirst and hunger pangs made us stop and ask somebody if we were indeed heading in the right direction. And of course, Murphy's law had prevailed - we were in the opposite direction of that towards which Harrison st lay. And to add further injury, we were now a mile away from Harrison St - aaaaaargh!
To overcome this setback something strong was needed. Chai! We rushed into the next coffee-shop we came across. It was a quaint little shop with rickety furniture, antique decor, chipped crockery etc. We ordered chai (mine was sweet, S chose spicy) and to assuage our stomachs till we could be fed at the carnival, ordered toast and eggs. Chai arrived. In a mug which seemed like a pot with a handle! I think 3 Starbucks Tall drinks would have comfortably fit into one of those mugs! And then the toast arrived - a pretty big serving of that too. Cheap and nice for the 2 bucks apiece that they cost!! Anyways by the time this chai-break was done, we were extremely full and a lot more energetic. Refresehed, we set off on our quest again.
After plodding another 3/4ths of a mile, we finally began seeing signs of the carnival.
To be continued...
On Friday, as I slogged at office, S kept up a constant stream of emails with suggestions on what to do on Saturday. Many suggestions came forth but it was obvious that her heart was set on going to the Samba Carnival in SF. Well, being the nice athiti satkar-kind of person, I agreed even though I have been to SF's Pier 39 enuff times to start waving acknowledgement to the store owners there. Well, as S pointed out, we were going to see the "real" SF and not just pier 39.
So we set off on Saturday around 1.00p - watching the first day last show of bunty aur babli the previous night ensured that we did not get up at any decent hour in the morning. We had decided to make it a total "adventure" tour of SF and hence parked and left the car once we got to the Caltrain station.
The first of the adventures started there - no matter what combinations, coaxing or kicking we tried, the ticket vending machine refused to vend any tickets. However, the nice conductor on Caltrain let us ride for free :-). We arrived at Millbrae a good hour later. There we jumped off the train to get the BART connection to SF.
I dont know if you have had the chance to buy tickets from the BART vending machine - it has about the most confusing interface I have ever seen for purchasing tickets - especially for hapless first-timers. After plenty of 'go back to beginning's, cancellings and oopzzz (much to the irritation of the people behind us in queue), we managed to get our tickets and sprinted to the train and hopped in just minutes before it left the station. The sprint pretty much set the pace for the rest of the day.
BART is rapid, true, but boy, does it make some noise!! The whistling screech it gives as it rushes through tunnels makes you feel like its going to get launched like a rocket and take off into space at any moment! Pretty much for the whole BART journey, we kept our mouths open and jiggled our ears periodically to offset the pressure changes. 20 minutes later, we arrived at 16th and Mission - from where Harrison St., the carnival destination, was a half-mile walk.
Being first timers, we were disoriented about directions. But, enterprising as we are, we set off smartly after consulting an area map on a nearby post. And walked, and Walked, and WALKED. No sign of Harrison St. All that was to be seen was the sun shining merrily in spite of dire morning weather forecasts of windy and cold conditions, plenty of restaurants and throngs of people. Finally, thirst and hunger pangs made us stop and ask somebody if we were indeed heading in the right direction. And of course, Murphy's law had prevailed - we were in the opposite direction of that towards which Harrison st lay. And to add further injury, we were now a mile away from Harrison St - aaaaaargh!
To overcome this setback something strong was needed. Chai! We rushed into the next coffee-shop we came across. It was a quaint little shop with rickety furniture, antique decor, chipped crockery etc. We ordered chai (mine was sweet, S chose spicy) and to assuage our stomachs till we could be fed at the carnival, ordered toast and eggs. Chai arrived. In a mug which seemed like a pot with a handle! I think 3 Starbucks Tall drinks would have comfortably fit into one of those mugs! And then the toast arrived - a pretty big serving of that too. Cheap and nice for the 2 bucks apiece that they cost!! Anyways by the time this chai-break was done, we were extremely full and a lot more energetic. Refresehed, we set off on our quest again.
After plodding another 3/4ths of a mile, we finally began seeing signs of the carnival.
To be continued...
Intoxicated by attention!
After giving my poor blog the royal ignore for more than a month, on an impulse, I decided to check it out today. To my pleasant surprise, I found comments on my previous posts from strangers. Wow!! Without any advertisement my blog got readers and attention??? That's an intoxicating thought! From now on, I am going to make a sincere effort to blog more regularly now that I know somebody other than me reads it. Thank you reader-folks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)