"You dont know how tough it is to be a girl!!"

"You dont know how tough it is to be a girl!!"

Is there any guy out there who has not heard this said to him? I guess none. So how tough can it be to be a girl? What's the bid damn deal?

I know it can be very tough for a girl if she has a male chauvinistic dad, sibling or spouse.. Hey you know what, the tides are turning nowadays.. Feminism is the ladies’ answer to male chauvinism.. Have you ever heard a girl who has just about everything from a wealthy dad to a voluptuous bod, complain how tough her life is, how all the guys are pigs and how femmes are better than pathetic males? But let’s not digress…

Now lets leave out the extremes, lets leave out the really marginalized females, the downtrodden ones and the ones that are really harassed by their male counter parts. Lets just consider our city grown, convent educated, chauffer driven Barkha Dutt types.
So how tough can their lives be? Really how tough?

You are born to wealthy parents.. Brought up in air-conditioned rooms, travel within town in a Honda City, travel between towns in second A-C or Jet Air, hang around in Malls, Multiplexes and boutiques, munch on pizzas and ice creams, end up doing a cool course in Visual communication or Sociology (After all you don’t HAVE to get into a job like us) and to delay marriage you ask your dad to get you admitted into a fledging MBA institute that poses to be the next IIM.

In the end if you don’t end up with a job, its still ok because you are a GIRL. Your parents can always say,” We are looking out for a proper alliance for her”.. Imagine how it would be if a post-graduate boy sits at home without a job.. Can the same excuse be given?

So what is it that makes life tough for you girls? Is it pregnancy? Well it’s just 1 year, after that it’s the dad that has to struggle for a life time to provide for the kid.. So get over it! Is it your monthly botheration? You are welcome to exchange that with our hair loss and having to scrape our face with a blade (shaving) almost everyday.


So guys if you hear the Barkha Dutt types complain that life is tough on them, just ignore their rant as perhaps a serious bout of PMS and move on. If not you will be wasting your time. Period.

Crap on Canvas!

Well, let me tell you one thing... I am a total novice when it comes to modern art. So when I heard some private art museum from India had paid £2.4 million (Yes! THAT much) for this, I was appalled.. Truly appalled. I cannot fathom what it means. I feel my 5th grade water colour work had more purpose than this... What IS this? Let's check an expert comment on THIS work of Art??? by Syed Haider Raza.

"The painting is one of [the] most ambitious works he has ever created as a homage to his homeland," Yamini Mehta, director of South Asian modern and contemporary art
Voila! So that’s a painting... Great! Finally I got it.. So that’s what this is supposed to be... That’s what this thing is feigning to be. Hmmm...
this just beats me... Call me what you want, but I certainly feel £2.4 million is way too much for this piece of...(sorry, work of Art)

Syed Haider Raza, I can only attribute this sale to some great Karma from your previous birth. This certainly is not a painting.. May be this is and this is, but Mr.Raza, yours certainly isn’t... No offense meant.

Neytiri........

Never ever have I even in my wildest dreams imagined that I would have a crush on a blue-skinned, homohabilis-like, wide-eyed, tail-wagging, tribal, super-tall, humanoid, female alien...
That was before I saw Avatar, before I saw Neytiri-the most beautiful Na’vi...


Of all the improbably imaginative intricacies that have originated from the intelligent mind of James Cameron and taken form in the movie, I loved Neytiri the most. Perhaps the most perfect of Eywa’s creations, the most poignant, the most emotive, the most sensitive, the most naive and certainly the most sensual. With purity in thoughts, faith in beliefs, strength of mind, agility of body, beauty of the skin, beauty of the heart and audacity of youth, she is everything a male wants in a female (of his species of course!!)... Someone to love but with respect... Someone cute but with strength... Someone effervescent but with restraint...

She has the grace of a deer, the spirit of a tigress, the style of a horse, the symmetry of a swan and a heart chiselled by GOD on one of his very special and most productive work days... Only the form is similar to human. The rest of her is much above mere human.

Her absolute faith would move even the most ardent of non-believers in her clan (akin to John Locke in “Lost”). Her slender figure hides a strong will (Now haven’t we seen that in many women).. It also hides a very stubborn streak. (Haven’t we seen this too in many many many more women :) ). Her absolute beauty would attract even homosexual males and make homosexuals out of females in her clan. A gambolling Doe, a galloping mare, Scarlett Johansson and now Neytiri have reaffirmed my belief that ‘BEAUTY’ is a word that is the sole proprietary of the feminine and the feminine only...

Neytiri – One of the most impressive characters I have viewed on the Silver screen. To watch her in IMAX-3D was simply the ‘icing on the cake’...

Thank you James Cameron for ‘Avatar’... Thank you for showing us that the term 'Alien' is only relative.
Thank you even more for showing us that true beauty can exist in all forms created by God!!!


More on Avatar, read this.

The Man who could have been...

We are all ‘Gail Wynand’s...

Now you might be wondering who the hell he is... Well, he is a fictional character from the epic novel ‘The fountainhead’ written by Ayn Rand. If you have not read it, just grab a copy today, finish it off in a week and then go and buy ‘ATLAS SHRUGGED’... After reading these 2 books I stopped reading fiction for one year as a tribute to Ayn Rand. It was like I had reached the pinnacle of modern English fiction, nothing else stands. More about Ayn Rand and her books in another post, perhaps. This one is about a specific character from ‘The Fountainhead’.

Just who is this Gail Wynand? Well...

He is you. He is me. He is almost 90% of the human population.

In the novel, he is a powerful newspaper tycoon, who rose from the rags to rule the newspaper industry. He is characterised as a highly “successful” industrialist. He shares a lot of the positive ideals present in Howard Roark, the main protagonist of the novel... But unfortunately the more time he spends in this world the more Wynand gives in and gives up on his ideals one by one, in order to be “successful”... He had the potential to be idealistic, but gave it up under the guise of being realistic.

How does that make you and me to be like him?

Just remember how you felt the day you finished school, the day you scored a double hundred in Math, the day you got admitted in the vocation of your choice (or parent’s choice or society’s choice:)), the day you finished college, the day you got your first job. Head held high, floating in ideals, a spring in your step... As the cliché goes, “the world was your oyster”... "Ye ‘Also-rans’, ye ‘average men’, ye ‘boring bosses’, here cometh I....", you muttered in your breath. You had ideals, big bold ones, determined to make a difference, determined to be the difference, determined to be different...

Few years on... Have you lived up to those ideals? Do you still do things only if you believe in them? Are you the ‘Prime Mover’? The answer my dear friends would be a mighty ‘NO’.... If it had been ‘yes’, that would have given you an outside chance of claiming to be a ‘Howard Roark’ - the perfectionist, the purushottaman(tamil)... But alas the answer is ‘NO’ and that has made you and me and many many many of us just ‘Gail Wynands’... We would like to believe we are all ‘Howard Roarks’, but the harsh, hard-hitting reality is that we are all Gail Wynands, nothing more, nothing less.

Gail Wynand – The Man who could have been...


Note: Those who are familiar with Rand’s works will appreciate this post a lot more. Others please go and read her books and then read this post... “The Fountainhead” and “Atlas Shrugged” are two exhilarating experiences that are not to be missed, two epics that are absolutely relevant to today’s world.

Nagareega Komaaligal - Naangalaa?

Sometime ago I got a forwarded e-mail which had a very beautifully and funnily written Tamil Kavithai. (I have lost it and if I somehow find it,I will post that email also here.) Though beautifully written the logic was all flawed (Porul kutram :))... The author laughed at IT people calling them 'Naagareega Komaaligal' and blamed them for just about everything thats wrong with our Indian society today. I found found that a bit hard to digest and downright illogical at times.

The following is my riposte, a view from the other side...


Naagareega komaali ena kindal seitheer
Nadathai kettavarena pattam alitheer
Kalaachaaram kettalum emmai pizhaitheer – Engal
Kaigal kumbhi povathaaga thiraipadam edutheer...

Pen tholai kaatti pizhaikkum iyakkunar undaam
Panam pidungi vaazhum arasathigaariyum undaam
Thamizh pesa theriyaa Thamizh vaathiyum undaam - Innaattil
Thandamaaga irukkum pala kaavalar undaam

Kadavul peyaril yaemaatrum Paathari undaam
Kadavul illai ena yaemaattrum naathigar undaam
Vanjanaiyudam aatchi seiyyum arasiyal vaathiyum undaam - Innaattil
Verumendru athai paarkkum vaakkaalar undaam


Irunthaalum engalai than –
Naagareega komaali ena kindal seitheer
Nadathai kettavarena pattam alitheer...
Kaniporiyai katrathu thaan engal pizhaiyo – Ungal
Vayitrerichalai kilappi vittathu engal pizhaiyo..



Veettai vittu odipogum kanavanum undu – pirar
Ottai pirithu thirudi pizhaiikum nanjugal undu
Koottai vittu odi pogum kunjinai pola – nam
Naattai vittu odi pogum pinjugal undu...

Manaiviyaiyum vittru pizhaikkum mirunganagal undu
Maaanaviyim vittu vaikkaatha aasiri undu
Kudi bothaiyil mayangi silar oru puram kidakka- pen
Vizhee bothaiyil mayangi thinarum maanavar undu


Irunthaalum engalai than –
Naagareega komaali ena kindal seiveer
Nadathai kettavarena pattam alippeer...
Naangal mattum naagareega komaaligalo – illai
Ivargallelaam Anaagareega Komaaligalaa?

What’s in a name?

One of my part time interests is knowing about names...whenever I hear a new name I have this compelling urge to find out what it means.. The other day a new girl (or should I say Lady?) joined one of the multitude of IT teams here. Her name was Tamsa*... Now the name-digger in me was aroused enough to google and find out that Tamsa is the name of a river in MadhyaPradesh (a’ la Kaveri or Ganga). Hence the name...

Well, I also have this part-time urge to share interesting trivia with unsuspecting people without even considering the possibility that they might not be interested or as in this case a little too interested for all the wrong reasons. So... As a luncheon discussion topic, I flaunted my knowledge of the name to my colleagues... Quite harmless. Right? The problem was, despite being a guy myself, I for a moment forgot to consider the multi-nefarious ways that a male mind can work and the multiple misinterpretations that any human mind can concoct. It was also very naive of me to not consider the attractive complexion or the appreciable configuration of the female under discussion.

This resulted in M telling V that I had an eye for her; V in turn told B that I had a crush on her; B told D that I liked her coz of her attractive complexion; And D told K that I liked her due to her sweet voice... Now all this did not happen over a week’s or day’s time... Everything happened in 5 minutes as each guy came and sat around the table in the canteen... 5 minutes and an innocent comment is converted into an indication(or indictment?) of insatiable infatuation... Un-freakin-believable!!! Boys will always be Boys... But then some of us (like me :)) choose to grow up into MEN... I tried to put my foot down and make them realise that I was not interested in her. But, do you really think it worked?
Finally S came to the table and informed us that the girl was already married. That’s when the leg-pulling stopped. I was relieved that the charade was over... But NO, it wasn’t. In one moment they changed me from a love-smitten lad into a grieving heart-broken lover...

So here I am supposedly grieving for missing out on a girl (or should I certainly say Lady now?) who I was supposed to be ogling, who is apparently happily married, and in whom I hadn’t the slightest of interest... But my colleagues haven’t till now accepted and would never accept the FACT that I was only remotely interested in the name and the name only...

* - Name changed to protect identity ;-) So please don’t go orkutting in search for her :-)

Inji Marappaa

Of all the things in the world, never in my wildest imaginations did I ever fathom that nostalgia would be induced by the thought of this tiny sweet and sour candy.. Well I guess it all started when I spotted this "crystalised ginger" while I was grocery shopping at 'Stop&Shop' yesterday.. It reminded me of the wonderful Inji marappa,while sitting in the 'mofussil' bus in Aarapaalayam, waiting for it to start, the old man who would be selling them for 25 paisa each - Roobaikku naalu ( My God! 25 paisa?!?!? We dont even respect 25cents here). As a kid I was never allowed to buy these things. 'Udambukku Keduthal' appa used to say, 'Vayithula poochi mulaichudum' ammaa used to say... So I never tasted the Inji marappa (BTW, it is a sweet and sour candy made of ginger (Tamil:Inji) that tastes not too bad) till I was old enough to go to college.

While in College, once in a month when I used to travel back home I used to have Inji marappa.. Not because I liked its taste. It tasted ok... Infact the first time, I bought it because I took pity on the very old man (He could have been a septuagenarian) and bought 4 injimappaas for Rs1... His hands used to tremble even as he picked them up one by one and placed it in my late-teen palms... All I saw was his old beaten down trembling weak body, but still strong spirit for survival... I am sure with his frail body, he could have made more money as a beggar. But still he didn’t choose that life. I remember sometimes I gave him a Rs2 coin.. He would not even have Rs1 change... ( Naan thaan muthal poni pola)... I would say, 'Parava illa thatha... vaechukonga.' He would not reply... Instead he would put his hand into his bag and pull out 4 more inji marappaas to compensate for the extra money.. In that single moment, I learnt what dignity and self-esteem was all about.

Many people like this... Another Very very old man ( and this was even earlier - when I was in 5th grade or something) used to walk the streets of our area yelling at the top of whatever remained of his voice , " Boli-ye, thengaa maangaa Pattaani Sundallu"... I used to look at him and wonder why he had to work at this age and at times worry how he would make ends meet.. I used ask amma, "Namma thaatha mattum aathula rest eduthundu irukkaala.. antha thaathaa mattum Veiyilla yenma ipdi nadanthu nadanthu work panraar..." Amma used to say something about poverty and punarjanmam I dont recollect properly... Somehow I got a little too much attached to him.. The sight of him in that dhoti and Kathar shirt with a dark green towel that served both to wipe his sweat and also as a buttress against the koodai(basket) on his head. During the Summer of '91 my thatha passed away after being bed-ridden for a long time.. I felt sad... very sad... but didn’t cry... Very surprising for a less than 10-year old.. But a couple of weeks after that something happened... The Boli selling thatha didn’t come.. I stopped hearing the familiar cry... I was worried. I thought he too had passed away.. Then I wondered if he would have had the same sending off like my thatha, or did he faint and was lying in some deserted street corner without care, just like when he was alive.. As these thoughts rushed to my head, and then to my heart, tears filled my eyes...

Even now as I write this I feel desolate... That was the time when I told myself, "when I grow up and become an adult, I would strive to atleast put one elderly person out of such misery.." That was when I was 10 years old. And till today apart from the occasional donation here and there I haven’t done much. 18 years have passed by since then.. The last time I went home, I went to what used to be my room, stood in front of the familiar west-facing window and despite the setting sun threatening to burn my retinas, I waited for the familiar voice of the Boli thaatha.. It was not to be heard. It will never be heard again.. May his soul rest in peace...

After being separated from my thatha for this long, paatti finally left to join him last week. I felt sad, my heart cringed. But suddenly I am left pondering how many more geriatrics like the inji thaathaa and boli thathas are still out there burning in the unrelenting south indian sun, just to make both ends meet... But unfortunately thoughts like these are only fleeting and not frequent. May be because we are all more concerned about the EMIs to pay, the cars to buy, the watches to collect and the matches to watch.For some not very irrelevant reason, I am reminded of Oskar Schindler and the final scene from Schindler's list, where he cries, "Had I sold this car, I could have saved 4 more. Had I sold this watch I could have saved 1 more..."


Thani manithanukku unavillai endraal intha ulagathaiye azhikka vaendum endraan androru maamanithan.
Aanaal indro naam anaivarum thani thani manithargalaaga, namakku naame ulagangalaaga vaazhnthu kondu irukkindrom...