Fanaa Vs Eye of the needle

Warning: Plot and more importantly all corny sentiments revealed.

I just saw Fanaa. I was also a major Ken Follett fan. But as soon as Aamir Khan reached that isolated house in Kashmir, I was screaming out loud that this was "Eye of the Needle" (aka Storm island) much to the discomfiture of the other people watching the movie.

Storm Island is set in World War II, and the villain is a German spy in England trying to send an important message to the Germans about a red herring that the English had planned. He gets stuck in an island because he is wounded and there is a storm. The island is occupied by a couple and their son. The husband is paralyzed (or amputee I don't remember) waist down and the marriage does not have any love. There is also servant who lives on the other end of the island (about 1 mile away) with a transmitter. The villain tries to reach there and transmit the message to the German submarine offshore. The husband and the servant are killed, but the lady saves the day by blowing the fuse of the house thus disabling the radio transmitter. The son and the lady live to tell the tale.

In Fanaa, set in Kashmir, the injured Aamir Khan comes to this house which has Kajol, her son and her father. Aamir Khan has the detonator to a nuclear device planned to kill a lot of people but he is stuck in that house because he is wounded and there is a storm. There lives a friend Colonel SomeBody with a radio transmitter. As soon as Aamir Khan's identity is known, he kills the father, kills the colonel, transmits his location to the terrorists (for them to come and pick the detonator) but Kajol saves the day by shooting him down. Yash Raj has added some mother - son, father - daughter, old husband - wife, grandfather - grandson, dead wife - husband, kid - new father etc sentiment to the above story for Indianization. The best was the "presumed dead guy" to the "previously blind girl" sentiment.

Oh maaan! Gimme a break!

Tell Tale 8

The lost interesting cell in the body

There were 3 people in the car on the freeway to California. The road was not too much trouble but winding just enough for the driver to enjoy the pulls of G-forces. The one in the back was almost sleepy or almost asleep and nobody knew. The songs being played in the car were getting boring after being played over and over again, which subsequently led to FM being unanimously preferred, which was also boring and again subsequently unanimously decided to be turned off. One of the people was driving, the other one almost asleep and one guy who could not sleep nor enjoy the grip of the wheel was getting nervous with boredom. That was me.

I wanted to start some conversation that would be interesting enough to wake the sleepy guy and distract the driver who's enjoyment I had come to envy by now. I was searching really bad through the many many conversational topics I had used before. Here comes the catch. Not all topics are readily acceptable because the driver was a girl. So, no "A" jokes, no topics involving mud, blood or beer. And that was most of my conversational arsenal. It had become a challenge now which was actually sad.

Now, I remembered reading a medical magazine which had once started a huge debate among my other bunch of guys. The magazine had quizzed about "the most interesting cell in the human body." Well, my answer was obviously the sperm as it is the only cell that gets to have a fat girl friend. The answer was as lame as it could get because the probability that one sperm out of the million other people could get one was almost negligible and considering all the hardship our poor guy has to go through to get to her, it really was not worth the effort. And thus started the debate. And I decided that it would be a good starter to spur a banter.

I ask, "So, what do you guys think is the most interesting cell in the human body?"

The girl goes, "I know what you have in mind, now look at the map and see how far away is the next exit."

I Lurve kids

I think I inherited this from my father... I lurve kids, OK. So, when I saw a link named "Boo's baby talk" in Ammani's blog, I went straight for it. Read the full blog and it took me almost a day to finish it because I am slow reader and there was lots to read and the blog was punctuated with really cute pictures of the baby which took most of my time. Her name is "Ashu" and the blog is by her mom.

But then, feeling a little naughty added a comment like this,

Hi amma,

This blog is very nice. Thank you mummy.

BTW, I can talk very well but you dont seem to be understanding me. And I can understand everything you speak. I wanted to say that I really dont like when you fight with daddy.

I sure can type, though.
-Ashu

I was hoping she might enjoy this weird anonymous comment, masquerading as her daughter. I thought it was funny. Anyway, just in case, apologies run ahead.

I also found this really funny video. It is just about quadruplets laughing. And it is so funny!
I have decided to get married and have lots and lots of babies. I can almost here you say, "Yeah right! like you are the one to decide on that!". I know, but atleast it is something really nice to dream about, right ?

Tell Tale 7

The sticker

We were three guys sitting on a clean and well postered wall, which was not more than four feet in height (a kutti chevaru!). The wall was very comfortable to sit on because it was wide enough to not hurt our bottoms and the place had good supply of cool breeze and girls in the otherwise parched Madras. This was our usual hang out place. We don't indulge in smoking or drinking because our pocket money was not much. I love samosas and vegetable puffs. We pretty much sit there, with our legs hanging loose and our sandals dangling loose on our feet munching on anything edible in an arms reach.

We were the king of the roads because it was "our area". It is not a very busy street but busy enough to interest a bunch of bored 17 year old kings.

Oh yeah, did I tell about girls? That road never fails to deliver. It must have been the busy bus terminus nearby or something that we used to see a lot of "out of area" girls. We were not perverts or anything, but I would not hesitate to appreciate beauty walking on our road.

That day, there were fewer people that usual, maybe because of the football match between Brazil and Germany. Then as were talking about the soccer world cup and how USA lost to Ghana, I saw this girl walking on the other side of the road.

She was really beautiful by any standards. She had the walk, the fitness, the hair. But the best was her attitude. It was nice to see a girl walk with such confidence, on a road with a bunch of guys brandishing adolescent mustaches. I think she caught my eye. I smiled at her. Then I saw that she was wearing a shirt in the most beautiful of greens. She wore it well and it was a really good fit on her. I happened to notice that and tried to tell my other wall-mates, about how good the shirt looked on her. But the other boys were least interested and were annoyed at my irrelevant intervention in their now supposedly "scientific" reasons behind the patches on the soccer ball.

Funnily, she looked at me again and this time since I was slightly indignant at her refusal to reciprocate my previous smile, I smiled again in defiance. I was not really doing anything bad, was I? and it was my area. She walked past us, on the other side of the road and I promptly joined the next interesting thing on that road (the guys), but now they were in agreement and there was nothing to argue about.

Suddenly, the girl in the green shirt was standing before me and was handing me a sticker. It was the "UNWANTED" sticker from Blank Noise Project (I had read it in one of the newspapers). And she walked away. It was better that there were not a lot of people around because, it was very embarrassing. But it did not make a lot of sense. I was not eve-teasing, was I? I probably should not have directly looked at her shirt. There was an unusual silence for about 30 seconds.

But then, as my friend was trying to flinch away from me, I noticed I was getting goosebumps.

Tell Tale 6

How do I tell her?

I wanted to say something to her. Nothing fancy, but just that I really liked her blog. Just that. But how do I say that without giving away my name ? There is nothing wrong in saying my name, is it? Why am I so shy ? There is no need to be shy. I can always leave an anonymous comment. Oh no! That would be washed away in the million other adulatory comments that she gets. I should be bold and tell her.

I want to leave a neat comment. It should be crisp and sharp. Something that should make her smile. How I wish to be the source of her few seconds of happiness? But, then that would attract everyone to my blog and she would see why I don't have any comments in my whole blog. What if she thinks I am just pimping my blog ? She is nice. She probably won't. But then I don't even have a counter. She will understand. I will hold my breath and say it in one go.

I really like your blog, Ammani. I just wanted to say that.

Tell Tale 5

The family story

When I was 3 I did not understand how fast time flew. When I was 10 I was hoping time would fly faster so that I would get to grow a mushtache like my father. When I was 15 I started worrying about future issues like my career, my wife and the kinds. I am married now, to the most wonderful woman in the world and I have a very beautiful 2 year old daughter(She is very naughty). I woke early today and saw my wife breathing slowly and snoring very slightly, sleeping like a baby and my actual angelic baby sleeping between us sucking her thumb. I did not have anything to think about.

How long is this going to last? 60 years till I die? Of course not. We will probably become grumpy old people way before that. 40 years? My daughter is not going to stay with me till she is 42, is she? 20 years? I probably will not be in the best of my health then, my daughter might be away in her college somewhere, probably even married. 10 years? Me and my wife are going to be around, but will my daughter still going to suck her thumb? That moment was not going to last for more than 2 hours. That was the peak 2 hours of my life and I will never be happier. Just way down from here.

But, I did not think of all that then, because I was too sleepy and slept. Maybe tomorrow I will try to wake up again to glow at all that.

An excerpt from:
As I walked out one Evening
- W. H. Auden

In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

Tell Tale 4

A tough one too!

I was teasing and flirting with the girl online. I almost knew everything about her, including her eye and hair colour but never told her anything about me. To her I was a 50 year old woman, a veteran from the armed forces. My details looked dubious. For about 3 months I was teasing and flirting with her. Initially she had openly said that she did not care who I was. Then weeks of careful banter piqued her interest.

Then her curiosity overwhelmed her and asked me politely about my whereabouts. I was not about to give away my almost God like unassailable position because a girl was curious. Since her polite demands were not heeded, she abruptly decided to cut communication channels, even at the risk of losing an interesting person ever. If one does not want to be found, he will stay lost. But then again, wouldn't I deign to disrobe myself and stop abusing the niceness of a girl, stop trespassing her blog, humanize a weird character, just because a girl wanted me to? Yes.

Sadly, no one wants to know about the 50 year old woman.

Tell Tale 3

And the girl was not coy

The girl was beautiful. She writes very well. She writes with a feminist waft. It was the first date. I was nervous. Had to give her a gift. Something new. Something good. What would be her mood?

So, I thought. And then, I wrote. A story. Telltale 2. First the plot. Then the characters. Portrayed the protagonist. Layered the story. Played the narrator. Rebelled with some anti-feminism. With hesitation, some naughty erotism. A little flirtatious. Tuned the characters. Felt the tension. Some dangerously contained chaos. Nailed the ending. Reread it 4 times. Took me 2 hours.

She thought it was "different" and found a spelling mistake.

Tell Tale 2

I once knew a girl

The students were are paying rapt attention. Their heads swaying synchronously with the professor's walk left and right in front of the green coloured supposedly black board. The class was Anthropology 101. The topic the professor was teaching the last few weeks was about "Cultures of the World." The professor with unrestrained discomfort began the class with "Today we will talk about the Indian Subcontinent and the Hindu culture."

We all know that India is one of the fastest growing economies, stealing everybody's jobs. The culture itself is extremely hard to characterize. First, it is a country of contradictions. Most of you know the country as the birth place of "Kamasutra" or the land of the fastest growing population. Yes, It is all that.

Regarding the religion itself, it is one of the oldest. But there seems to be a bit of a confusion. It is the religion that wrote a book on sex, built a temple for it in Khajuraho. The country with the most erotic religion now considers looking at women as eve-teasing.

(The students too were finding the professor a little incoherent that day)

Every single women yearns to marry the man she will love, but invariably, in the end waits for her parents to find her the right man. Maybe this is the only sub-species where the offspring is nourshed to its mating. People have forgotten courtship and take pride in a maintaining a forced celibacy even to a determined prince charming. Why the hell do I care.

My darling angel doesn't know to flirt! And the professor promptly swoons.

Tell tale 1

Monkey business

She was a very famous Paleontologist. She never did anything that did not sound absolutely correct to her. But the new fossil that had been reported showed clearly that Apes did not evolve into humans. Then somehow everything made sense to her. She was completely convinced that humans did not evolve from monkeys. She crossed verified and her juniors agreed to everything after she put forth her observations. This would be a landmark paper in the most prestigious of journals. It would create a lot of controversy but she had answer to every possible question that could be asked. Her junior had written the paper and she took it home to proof read the draft. For some reason, her two year old son would not eat anything but bananas that day.

Tribute to women

I came across two lines of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read and stopped to realize, I do not read any blog writen by a man. Women writers are better bloggers. Dont try to tell me that these might be women who sit home and do nothing.... because they are not.

In the last few posts, I had been trying to write in a girl's style. She is a compulsive confessor. I realized that it is a style that cannot be aped, I bow and retreat. There is one other woman called Ammani. If she was not already married, I would be in UK begging for her to marry me. But, she is married and she has one beautiful kid. She writes quick tales. I am going to try some, which I hear is the best form of admiration I could give her. Maybe even woo her!

I hope these are not guys with a female nom-de-plume.