Friday, December 31, 2010

                             SALUTE 2011

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

GLOBE IS GETTING OBLIQUE ?





Taking a set of wee hours in account that I spent along with one of my sweet uncle, I do start this topic. I and he were driving our legs to the confectionery stall. It was pretty cool morning and when I pulled out my eyes from the cell phone screen and watched around, I could see many health conscious uncles and a few aunties jogging with covered nose-mouth with masks. It framed like surgeons were running out of the operation unit in the midst of fixed cases. I was aware of the “masked” purpose and the purposely doing actions lured my laugh. After crossing the third “medico”, me and uncle were about to cross the road. Abruptly one black hefty 4 wheel drive [think it was a PAJERO. I couldn’t remember exactly] passed us investing a commendable sized knotted white plastic bag off road. The football like perfectly packed bundle bounced back after hitting the electric post and the same came eagerly to us. It was a waste “bomb” – a home made one. The odd and stiff smell out from the kitchen ‘opus’ was really “great” and it was enchanting me, frankly not only me but my seventies model uncle too. The smell was suffered me in such a way that I couldn’t even realize my uncle’s face. Gargantuan radiations from the home made pack were sailing out of saturation as the bag got torn after the bounces.
                                Italian, Indian, Chinese, tandoori almost all who got escaped from the dinning space then YESTERDAY or day before were peeping out from the cover. The catastrophe was so near. The sublime action was done by the bus came then, driving over the half torn packet. The 1+2 heavy right sided wheels made the stuff easily to a word map like structure over the road. The world wide food nexus was made like this in a spoon of seconds. We stood as pure eyewitnesses for the ‘crime’. I think it was a beef piece that cannoned at my lips from the packet while the bus tires were doing the novel action.
                           “How our lands hold cleanness? Better sweep all stupid like this first”   uncle lamented. I looked at him and saw the doleful patriotic person from my family. Pulling out inner stuffs from the throat and utilizing the good health, vigorously   he spat over the road. Thus he showed his grieves and walked along the length waving his hands saying follow me.  I just followed him asking myself
                                 “What is the difference between my uncle and the pajero human?. They both tried their level best harm for the society and the country rt?.
Kudos. Then after I’ am trying to change myself. Not to spit in public, not to dumb waste in public, to use the dust bins. If one guy or gal is not putting used recharge coupons/wrappers scraps /even bus tickets for a few years he or she is saving our lands from 'ton' of grams of waste. Then imagine how much he or she will be saving in a life time? Unofficial measure says every second in India itself gallons of virus hosted saliva-sputum are spat, which can be easily written as an exponent.

“All are not able to do great things, but all are able to do small things greatly”


Thursday, November 25, 2010

Dispatches -terror in mumbai







This day morning I was happened to be in the page for live leak web portal. I got directed from the yahoo home after leaping out from my mail account.  The day was making age -two for the diabolic actions which Mumbai held on 26/11. I just started seeing the documentary and the footages, and the stuffs which chained inside made me sit for the one stretch -48 minutes. I’m not sure whether all things edited in are real or manipulated .But I do believe all are reliable.
The film is directed by DAN REED, the guy who made TERROR IN MUSCOW.  I was not aware of the maker before. Having this video, I got into a search for that media person, and came to know about his penultimate venture, TERROR IN MUSCOW. Even seeing the 26/11 footages [unseen yet in medias] make us scary. I couldn’t even imagine the drastic chaos that the innocent people went through. As I’m a stupid, I don’t know what to do for peace. But I hope seeing this video, I / ALL should be in a mind-bowl which prevents ME / THEM from killing even a small tiny bug.


Iam sharing the video



Saturday, September 25, 2010

'wealthy' common wealth









genre:CI
Iis me who always work hard and tame my study materials during the last hours or the day just senior to the exam. And not only me, but almost all are doing the same mesmerism. A nexus of 300 or more people are in fresh troubles concerning the Common Wealth Game scam .Are they representing each of us? Human resources were in plenty and the fund  was redundant. Which element lacked? Diplomatically I'm not in a position to comment up on .Lets shelve the queries right now and later we should be having a manipulation and thorough probe after culminating the CWG. For the time being forget those non-Indians who looted and be Indian and lets  sing:::::
              
                      
oh yaaro yeh india..bulaa liya..
diwaana yeh india bulaa liya (bulaa liya)
yeh to khel hain, bada mel hain..
mila diya(mila diya) (2)

oh rukna rukna rukna
rukna rukna nahi..
haarna haarna haarna
haarna haarna nahi..
junoon se kanoon se maidaan maaro..

lets go..lets go..
play o jiyo heyo lets go..
play o jiyo heyo lets go.. (2)

oh yaaro yeh india..bulaa liya..
diwaana yeh india bulaa liya (bulaa liya)

parvat sa ooncha hon tum
toh yeh..
duniya salaami de
sard iraade na ho jaaye kahin
dil ko wo suraj de
jiyo utho bhadho jeeto..
tera mera jahaan lets go..
kaisi saji hain saji hain dekho maati apni..
bani rashke jahaan yaara ho
kai rang hain boli hain kai desh hai maga
yaheen jag hai samaya saara ho


laagi re ab laagi re lagan,
jaagi re mann jeet ki agan,
uthi re ab iraadon mein tapan,
chali re toli chali ban than,

The longer the night,
The longer our dreams be,
Flow like the wind,
Let the Games take over me,
Be like the Tiger strong,
Let the Fear be gone,
Follow the will to win to thrill to thrill...
play o jiyo heyo lets go!


kadamon mein ek bhanvar
ka hai din..
jashn ka aaj din hain
seeno mein toofan
ka hain din..
baazu aazma yeh din hain..
yeh din hain..tera din hai..
tu zor laga..chal aankh mila..
kal na aaye din yeh!

jiyo utho badho jeeto..
play o jiyo heyo lets go..
jiyo utho badho jeeto..
tera mera jahaan lets go

 The songs is tight and crispy now with some more beats and folkish nuances.Tweaking would endorse the purpose.


Saturday, June 26, 2010

WRONG NUMBER

genre: short story
Swathi Swathilakshmi is haunted by mighty thoughts.

‘I know him from the school days, why he put me in such a drastic pond'

 She asks herself and seeks inside her heart, where her dad with a muscled mustache, her mom with a cute uncertain smile and her sibling "agitator" stay safe.

"Hey Joe I don want to hurt ma parents and just do spare me"

  This was her last shout over Joe.


Joe's class number was 26 while they had their acquaintance for the first, and now too he is 26, six months elder to Swathi Swathilakshmi and now they have their first irregular manipulation in the friendship codes.
Sorry I’m going vague, saying this story. Story of  Swathi and Joe. Let me say, Swathi is getting a proposal from her blockbuster friendship hero Joe. They know each other for the past many years.

It was yesterday evening after a party blast Joe grabbed Swathi and said   'I want u'   and kissed at her lips, severe. She doesn know even now what to say more, and she doubts whether she too loves. If she asks me, god promise, I will be planting an affair. She is asking herself,

Was she allowing him to kiss? ,
Or he made it easily as he is a "he”?

 I think she is thinking a lot lying on her bed, to make herself safe in the chart of religion and other cultural frequencies.
She writes on the paper "do u love him?" and the same is getting stroked. She stands now in front of the mirror. She looks at the watch .She was the girl who slams this love and all the adolescence romantic times, the GUY-GAL love talks, night calls . . .

She sits in the lawn. Seems she is disturbed. Her mind searches a safe zone, a cradle. The breeze gives some ripped leaves and flower petals to her from the boughs. Nothing affects her.
Suddenly a flower comes to her front. She looked up.[it is Joe who]comes there with a flower in hand

"Joe"    she yelled
Joe: what you are doing here alone? [Placing the flower on her hand]

Swathi: confused, I’m totally confused

Joe: for what?

Swathi: I hate this love, affair and all. But I don want to hate you.

Joe:  Swathi I know you do love me. Your mind already scribbled inside the 3 words”I love you” and now your tongue have to read. Just do that

Swathi: what?  She asks puzzled
Joe now hugs her.

Joe: why you don’t resist now? Im hugging you.
Swathi:  Joe I love you

She sees the morning light now. She is in her bed. Now I could say that she is really holding the confused moments as the happened scenes are just a peppy dream .She doesn't know what to do. Whether cry or do scream. She confirmed that she loves him. But she doesn’t want to loose those lawn moments realizing that it was a dream. She is getting screwed up by herself in front of the mirror. She asks herself many queries.
I don’t want to chart all those stupid here.

I said no? Sometimes my Swathi is really psycho. Swathi wants to talk with her Joe now. [Don’t feel weird on me. I’m using "her Joe" now.] Hours passed. She changed. Before, she didn’t show any hesitation to call him. But now she drags. She herself knows, her mind got installed something new. The universal feel, love is spreading through the veins and she set tensed now to call Joe to say.
As 3 idiots said "all is well”, she picked the phone and scrolled. But the same instant, she gets his call. OOUUCH!!! She puts the mob down.
She looks at the screen:
                                                      JOE
                                         +919894312354
                                                    Calling...

She was taken aback...
Two calls she missed from him. She leaves the mob at the room and went for the routines. I think she gropes some courage .Lijin doesn’t know whether all gals do such dramas before a proposal or endorsing a proposal. But Swathi does. Two hours passed. She managed to eat the 120 minutes. She takes the phone and dialed him. The first hurdle is from the network operator side. Nil balance status made the fully charged Swathi dull .She can’t call. But she doesn’t give up. Takes the land lined phone and dialed.

Signal catches him. She is getting pissed here. She is like a gal who attends a phone in interview from a MNC. She doesn’t know what is coming straight from her mouth and what she hears. As a start the usual “where you?” the guy got. And thus, a dull –accelerated call installed.

Guy: driving, sorry, who is this?
Swathi: it’s me, don’t have ma land line? Huh
Guy: Sweety, you? I’m going to work site.
Swathi:  yup.k
Guy:  I was about to call you, I have been getting calls from Meskin and he wants that reports and those encoded program very urgent. I don want to make myself in trouble…

His complaints and grieves continues, which she doesn’t understand and bother

Suddenly;
“Joe I love you, I wanna share myself with u. Love you a lot”

What?! “he screamed and the car  went off road . A bang!!
    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Joe comes to Swathi's home and asks]
“Swathi, where you dumped your mobile?
I called you often. And you are sticking on this land receiver for long.
I called to this too. ’  

Swathi doesn’t know, what is happening around her. ?
Joe: hello [waved hands before her face]
She got flashed and says for the call.
Hello, hello” No one replies but the line is still connected, noises are heard from the end, noises only.

“Sorry wrong number” she ends the call.
Swathi: Hey Joe sorry. I got wrong. I dialed wrong and was calling someone for you and I talked minutes.
Joe: me? Ok what is the matter?
Swathi: nothing. Hmm, will say later [as she lost all her courage to confirm the love]

Lijin doesn’t know whether she will say the love lines and do well to herself or not. But I’m sure something bad and odd happened at  other end of the call.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

vinnai thandi varum!

 
genre:review
For the film the title itself is a big shot. The same draws psyches to the box office .First of all thanking the maker for the title. That symbolic query launches, launched, will launch romantic- memories  in every individual irrespective of the registered sex. We all were in doubt, that ghuatam menon is romantic or penning romance for the sake of money. But by this release I realized and confirmed , that the Indian director  is truly awesome in romance and magical in presenting the same glorious feel .Went along with two of ma friends and through out the theatre time, one was ‘sledging’ me for forcing him to see the screen for VTV.Didnt know why he hates. Some times the dull pace counted.
                 But I think the pace suits the film well. Sometimes fast pace would be doing a reverse affect, as the manipulation is romance inside. The style is pretty cool and worth seeing, ghuatam took. Steps [the aerobic-like] are awesome and for me the song picturization got ten on ten.

Academy award winner is terrific for the first venture after bagging world wide fames .Rahman is simply the best. If you people liked the album hearing  from CDs /PDAs,I swear you are missing another half of the beauty of the songs ,which comes only from the ghuatam menon frames. Its a commendable collaboration of notes and frames,truly  .
 
Camera moves and realistic frames are safely monitored before us through a talented  ‘lens’ Manoj paramahamsa. THUMPS UP man
                                                                                                     

My perspective shouts: ‘if u r missing the film, you are missing a great time’








Monday, February 1, 2010

ARR




Days back i joined one orkut community " why i hate rahman?".and inside the community home,reasons were chained well.I spotted every reasons for the hatred . Looking inside me, I see graffiti over my mind-wall  holding the same reasons.


description:
WHY I HATE AR RAHMAN?
1. Every time his music releases ... I gotta spend money on each
and
every DVD/CD released by him in all languages because I cant miss
his
music for anything in the world.

2. Waste lots of time listening to his music again and again
because
I can never get satisfied with his music.

3. Waste all my morning time reading carefully each and every
message in arrfans group, again and again for the fear of missing a
BGM,
a youtube video, a rapidshare link, a review/blog/ article.

4. Hate him because I like his music so much that I dont get time
to
listen to other MDs music and appreciate their music as some
people
can do.

5. Cry out loud when somebody says my man has lifted a tune ...
and
then try to cool myself after somebody in the amazing arrfans group
explaining why its false accusation.

6. Have to bear the fact that in this 100+ crore country, the only
music thats worth listening is ARRs and subconsciosly wishing that
there are more ARRs

reasons are nailed  above

when he had held te oscars,i didnt write any here
today he got te musical oscars too,te gramophone awards
so i couldn't help myself to leave te space void.

long go ARR,make me happy,make india smile

Sunday, January 10, 2010

just 4 horror!








 genre:true story





Throughout the life- this spell, I have been hearing stories named true shades that sketched or try to do ghost and such supernatural life forms. In all sense, some time known-sense gave us only vague and scratched scenes of them, the ghosts. For this, sometimes non sense too plays the role. However they are close to us. For screening fun we talked about them, a lot. For arresting the scary mind inside, we talked again a lot. Like all rolling eyes over this page, me too have much pretty well crafted scriptures with ghost or some of "his" associate in lead. The consolidation was from the soft hands of the idiotic box.
Dad and me always took plus five minutes from the bus terminal, the old one to the last bend which led to the rotary "school time" where I did my schooling up to 4th standard..From that road curve, it was my chronic carefulness that steered myself .As all well-programmed days, that day also I got in the class. I was doing in third standard and it was B division. Like some little champs from the bench-side, the teacher for the third period was also absent and we all were whispering ,hiding from the eagle eyes of dull yellow shirt& ample dark blue shorts standing in front of us. Sorry I don remember the fellow who monitored the class .[he actually was minding the class : my past vocals]
It was Sehna who was lying on the desk  yelled entumma jinnu jinnu"[oh god ghost!] abruptly .Girls around her themselves got pumped away and I think I was on the desk .Seconds before I had my seat over the wooden bench. The scene continued .Some had given a race to staffs' room. The fainted Sehna was taken to hospital immediately. The guy with curly hairs on the penultimate desk was helping his hands and tooth from shivering. It was my first "horror scene". Lijindev chewed three or four days,tasting the 'sweet' feel ,which made me completely dejected. Slept hugging mom tightly.
Time passed. This time the shocked kid changed a lot. Got spectacles over the eyes, slight terrific mustache and beard. I was in Salem, while age creeps through 2004 to 2008. During the initial batch of days, around two hundred and fifty in numbers, we all were together  under the same roof. We technocrats and the medicos loved each other. Had fun and the days moulded ourselves for the game 'ojo board '  As annan-the  hostel warden had told us that the room which shined over the three storey building like a cap,helped one of our senior to give up his breath .We did select the same spot, the same room as the canvass for the miracle of OjO. While we were in the making ,ears were tuning up more efficiently. More sounds were welcomed and seated inside ears. All were tensed enough as sounds -even a small wave was a bang for us that time. Dogs were the USPs. They did their level best to make us scared. And we were in ultimate chaos ,when the steel cup over the OJO board moved towards the boundary.
We were all aware of the 'concentration play' or the concentration's 'play' inside the OJO event and the dogs had been shouting all days before our horror game and after too, as usual. All were keeping the precious silence but sometimes laughed louder and fought harder to dominate over the scary boiling feel. The incident is bringing smile over my face now. And that time we were happy in the sense that our game touched success .Ya we saw the steel cup moving rt?
And this time, a true story followed. Mostly our home, the grieves’ graveyard on the second floor was like a road side inn. All did the presence with talks, talks and talks throughout, even if  the clock moved extremes. This particular scene and frames was among the 7 idiots and 2 Romeos, Neelesh and Ratheesh. The fair discussion was reaching ears throughout the fair, our FAIRLANDS. Flourishing talks were going on without any cracks or cheats. No doubt the topic was ghost, yakshi, extra ordinary evil powers and even many new non-dictionary words delivered at the spot. When unknown articles were dealt, all heroes nodded each other, as the same were much known. For the first whistle all were in shuffled seating. Every  "PERSONAL" story was followed by another from the nearest available mouth and we were successively forming a chain of bluffs and some interesting stuffs .I don want to point out the masala that we had in those story lines, it's understandable .Around 60 minutes were eaten. Then the team got shuffled. Our sofa was full; all got flanked by other bold technocrats .But every ones' tongue sailed a lot. The actual presenter was Rathesh. The guy hails from Palakkad. For introduction of his story, he blabbered, his village, home, people...went on...
From the days he could remember he was having a friend, whom he used to call 'chechi' [elder sister].During school days it was she who picked him up and down from the school. It was she who cared him like a younger sweet sibling.
From the demo itself we all got the strong bond between those two humans .We liked it and was getting indulged in the Rathesh filming
Years went off, and  that day came. He was coming back to the home after the class. It is still vague that in which standard he was doing then. He stepped down from the bus and was moving home. He was on the way, a pocket road, drawn up to his home. With many things, home works TV programs and many more in mind he was just rolling himself over the way  and he was in haste looking for a hunger-dismissal after reaching home .He walked. With a pleased charming smile and sparkling look, his chechi was coming. Both waved hands and thus greeted. When she was near enough, she just patted his hair on the move.
"Bye" she said.
The guy was not bothering much, as he was in haste and preferred being with his snacks and chaats from home. He just handed over a smile, and moved. He was running and reached home. No one was there except the maid .She gave him the plate, a little populated. Seeing that he asked "where is mom?”. Hands from back grabbed him tightly and hugged.’ mom! Where were u'?' He asked while he was getting a kiss from her. She was crying."hey mom" he shouted .
"chechi is gone, monu" with a completely cracked voice she said holding him tightly. He took some more time to realize that his chechi was dead that morning.
Hearing this we all were teaching ourselves, that ’it's a story '.But he had given the lines, saying that it was a true incident. We were taken to another stage or world. Now too when I write this blog I could feel the feel that I had then. A bit diabolic. After that we all were not discussing such matters to a larger extent. Especially we were not into the chechi story again. Sometimes when I heard the name 'Ratheesh' I could grope the incident from the memories.I know no great ways are there to rub those, if we had such in lives. Now we all got expelled from the great Salem and now we talk over phones only. But I rarely call him!