The World's fastest Indian

Tears of joy.

Nacho Libre

More sproof that Jack Black is a brilliant actor.

The Italian Job (2003)

Sleek, like Charlize Theron.

Knocked up

Hilarious because it hurts.

Amu (1984)

The strong and silent type that says a lot.

The Italian Job (Old)

The problem with this film is it ends ... and how!

The Last Lear

The problem with this film is it lacks a punchline.

Introducing OLVs: One line reviews

The nicest thing about 'Drona' is the headlines it makes.

Malgudi blues

Malgud blues

i went to Mysore
a charming town
that reminded me
of old bangalore
i went there to see
the man who took me
to a place that doesn't exist
the immortal malgudi

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

of sweet vendors
little children
village cricket and
financial experts
he quietly wrote
charming little stories
of a world so familiar
and yet, so remote

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

and then i saw it
RK's Mysore home
it stood there
silent and comely
like a muse
rich with possibilities
waiting to be engaged
alas it was not to be

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

i was politely told
by a faceless caretaker
that it's best to go easy
on the flash photography.
i wasn't miffed
nor did i feel insulted
for it went hand in hand
with the great man's personality

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

then, after 34 novels
and over 100 short stories
the man who taught greene
the meaning of indian
and left us his malgudi
at the ripe old age of 94
he was gone
his spirit lived on.

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

one day, i will return
to gentle joys of Mysore
and trip once again
down memory lane
to re-visit the place
only RK could see
and paint a picture of
... his immortal malgudi

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

Facebook blues

i don't want to talk to you
i don't wanna poke you
i don't wanna invade your spaces
all i wanna do is tag you, baby
in the most unexpected places

i tag you between stones
you put me under a cross
i put you on a boat
baby, i can't wait to see
what else is in store for me

i don't wanna talk to you
i don't wanna poke you
i don't wanna invade your spaces
all i want to do is tag each other, baby
in the most unexpected places

i'll tag you to the east
i'll tag you to the west
i'll tag you once
i'll tag you twice
i'll tag you as long as time flies

'cause i don't wanna talk to you
i don't wanna poke you
i don't wanna invade your spaces
all i want from you is tags, baby
in the most unexpected places

you hit me with absurd
i come back with obscure
you put me on a mountain
i send you to a corner
this could go on forever

we don't say nothing
we don't need words
we have visual allegory
click, click, tag, tag
is the vocabulary of our story

i don't wanna talk to you
i don't wanna poke you
i don't wanna invade your spaces
all i wanna do is tag you, baby
in the most unexpected places

Family blues

'meber the day you born
it seems so long
'member your smile
it's been a while

when you walked away
i didn't know what to say
you said i made you throw up
only 'member my eyes welled up

my daddy was distant
my mother dead
i grew up in an instant
forever short of bread

then i met your mama
the woman of my dreams
together we had ya
a pretty bad idea it now seems

baby don't blame us
it's all down to genes
you couldn't run away
from what we've once been

chorus:
so this my friends
is what i told my baby
the day before she left
to do some errands

now that i think about it
it sounds so messed up
it makes perfect sense
that she never returned up

Dreamt to be broken

This little story I'm singin' about
I’m telling you, it's true
If you're a dreamer
This is what I got to say to you

I say dreams, yeah dreams
They’re dreamt to be broken
Your most cherished desires
Are the ones forsaken
If you like what you see
It’s best forgotten
‘cause dreams, yeah dreams
they’re dreamt to be broken

Was in this place n my mind
Was having the time of my life
That’s when my mama walked in
And turned on the lights

I say dreams, yeah dreams
They’re dreamt to be broken
Your most cherished desires
Are the ones forsaken
If you like what you see
It’s best forgotten
‘cause dreams, yeah dreams
are dreamt to be broken

I tell you me and my mind
On this we never can agree
Beats me why she's so blind
To something that’s so clear to me

If you have dreams, yeah dreams
They’re dreamt to be broken
Your most cherished desires
Are the ones forsaken
If you like what you see
It’s best forgotten
‘cause dreams, yeah dreams
they’re dreamt to be broken

Thought I had this woman
Till I saw her with another man
Thought she was a one of a kind
Till she did what only a woman can

If you have dreams, yeah dreams
They’re dreamt to be broken
Your most cherished desires
Are the ones forsaken
If you like what you see
It’s best forgotten
‘cause dreams, yeah dreams
they’re dreamt to be broken

I say take this from an old guy
Take it at face value
Don’t fall for your dreams
You'll only end feeling blue

Dreams, yeah dreams
Are dreamt to be broken
Your most cherished desires
Are the ones forsaken
If you like what you see
It’s best forgotten
‘cause dreams, yeah dreams
Are dreamt to be broken

I heard a noise

I heard a noise
Noise, what kind of noise?
Oh yeah, I say I heard a noise
I said noise, what kind of noise
I heard a noise
A noise like shattering glass
Oh, that kinda noise
That’s just my broken heart

I heard ‘nother noise
Noise, now what kind?
Oh yeah, I heard ‘nother noise
Again? Say what kinda noise
A soft, muffled noise
Kinda buried, timid, almost quiet
Oh, that kinda noise
That’s just my inner voice

Listen to that, another noise
Yeah, I heard it too
You heard a noise?
Oh yeah, I heard a noise
You don’t say, what kinda noise
A plaintive cry that rent the air
Guttural, desperate and angry
Oh, that kinda noise
That’s just my soul laying itself bare

Shh … did you hear that noise?
Shh … is that the noise?
Man, you don’t hear no noise?
Shh … there’s too much noise
No, not that kind of noise
A noise so loud it screams
A noise so proud it preens
Oh, that kinda noise
that’s just my ego being spit-fried

I heard noises
Yeah, we heard noises
Noises inside and outside our head
Noises we’ll carry till we’re dead
Noises we want to silence
Noises that echo an inner violence
Yeah, we heard noises
Noises of rejection and bravery
Of a life in emotional slavery
Yeah, that kinda noise
Yeah, that kinda noise
Yeah, that kinda noise
That kinda noise every bluesman enjoys…
End with guitar solo … take it away!

Git your hands outta my pocket

Git your hands outta my pocket
got no money in it for you
baby since we been together
it’s plain to everyone but me
so clear the world can see
we just make each other blue

Git your hands outta my pocket
there ain’t a damn thing in it for you
for a long long long long time now
your very presence, girl
it makes my toes curl
sad to say but that’s the truth

Git your hands outta my pocket
left with nothing in it for you
telling myself why oh why
did you believe what she said
after she let that man into your bed
how oh how could I been such a fool

Git your hands outta my pocket
only disappointment in it for you
i’ve got my glass of moonshine
baby, i’m not your kind
don’t want you to be mine
spare me your point of view

Git your hands outta my pocket
got no money in it for you
Git your hands outta my pocket
there ain’t a damn thing in it for you
Git your hands outta my pocket
left with nothing in it for you
Git your hands outta my pocket
only disappointment in it for you
where’s the meat market, boys
gotta start something new

When you smile

baby, if you didn’t love me
why did you have to smile so
‘cause baby when I see you smile
i can’t think of nothing no more
so baby if you didn’t love me
why did you have to smile so

it’s been a long time baby
a very long time we’ve been together
it’s been a long time baby
very long since we’ve been together
but every time you smile, just so
i believe you won’t take no other lover

now you wanna leave
what do you expect me to say
farewell, on your way! no way …
still, if that’s what you want
how ‘bout a smile before you go
i don’t wanna feel no pain no more

in my time of dying
when i think of times gone by
i look back at you and me, baby
and the tears we bled together
then I ask myself
if she didn’t love me
why did she have to smile so

My latest venture

To set up a blues band. Here's the last track I wrote. It's called 'Token up by the blues' and it's open to interpretation. Welcome.

Token up by the blues
sitting by myself
in this 100 year old house
boy, and is it an old old house
sitting by myself
in this 100 year old old house
i feel even older
i got no job
got no woman
got an empty whisky bottle
and a bad habit to feed
that’s when the baba said
here boy, try you some weed

well, there I was sitting by myself
in a 100 year old old house
feeling even older
got no friends
got no family
got a empty stomach
and nothing to eat
then the sage assured me
ignore the smell, the high is so-o-o sweet

there I was sitting by myself
starved of company
food, whisky and nookie
ready to hit rock bottom
sinking under the weight
of a life looking
oh so so so empty
that’s when it hit me
the future looked so peachy

i turned to the sage, the baba
the magician with the potion
took his blessings
and set off to conquer the world
a few hours later
a head-full of dreams down the line
prodded by reality
i woke up. i needed to toke up

now here I am
sitting by myself
in this 100 year old house
looking every bit older
still no job
still no woman
still an empty whisky bottle
a bad case of the munchies
and two bad habits to feed
boy, I wish I’d never tried meself that weed

Lootie

What do you call a synonym that also sounds like the word it shares a meaning with, 'Same-onym'? Rght, let's call it a 'same-onym' for the time being. Interesting aside apart, I was watching the 'Loot-lo' promotion running for some brand being advertised on television. (Contractual obligations, forbid me from mentioning the name of the said brand.) Back to 'Loot-lo', do you see what I see? Already? Maybe not. t's coming.

What struck me about 'Loot-lo' is that 'loot' is a Hindi word that's also an English word and both these words sound the same but belong to two different languages. It's not like 'lo' in Hindi and 'lo' in English. It's a bilingual punstruction in which the punning word means the same thing in both languages. Unlike puns in other cases, where the word being used as a pun means two different things, 'Loot-lo' is less a conventional word pun than a - to the best of my limited knowledge - a unique language pun-meets-same-onym.

In other words, 'Loot' is an English 'same-onym' for the Hindi word 'loot'. No, stay with me. Don't zone out. Focus. I'm not saying 'the Hindi word for 'loot'' - which incidentally happens to be 'loot' - I'm saying 'loot' written in Hindi means and sounds the same as 'loot'.

You will find hundreds of homonyms like 'calm' - in English, 'calm' is peace and 'calm' in Hindi means 'work' - but few 'loot'-like 'same-onyms', apart from 'loot'. How many can you waste your precious time unearthing?

ps: 'Lootie' is what I call my girlfriend. It's a tamil word that means 'Naughty'. It's also a tri-lingual punstruction of the conventional kind. (Don't ask.)

You can dance if you wanna!!

Net-net, here's the idea: I've written a TV game show in which the contestants are expected to shake, shimmy, rattle and roll to a compendium of music samples from various genres. The idea is to see who's the best at 'Dance Improv'. Imagine. So many songs, so many lists, so many samples, so many permutations, so many combinations, so many entries, so many episodes, so much money. For a share of the spoils, contact me.

Sample episode: 'You can dance if you wanna!!'
Duration: 30 minutes.
Cut and Tackles: 30
Genres: Gospel, Country, Hip-hop, Bollywood, Carnatic and Tango!
Negative marking: 0.1 per 'Cut'
Perfect score: 10
DJ and compiler: Myself

The ipod effect

It's been a while since I've blogged here. Fact is, I've been a bit conflicted about blogging in general, and writing in particular. I'm going through one of those phases that many a writer trying to find his voice goes through: the one that makes you wonder time and time and time again whether the immense effort is all worth it. On some days, it seems one of the most rubbish things to do in life. Writing in the hope that someday it will all bear fruit. Clutching at straws might be a more rewarding pastime. I suppose, the fact that I'm still hammering away at a keyboard for an audience of not more than one can only mean one thing: I'm still an optimist. Why else would I want to share with the world a stupid little theory that I have about the kind of gifts one should give out to winners of the various contests the men in marketing are constantly organising to sell more of their products.

In my view, the best giveaways are things that emit the 'ipod effect'. The 'ipod effect' is that aura of intangible value some products carry with them for reasons that go beyond mere functionality. So while a product that exhibits the 'ipod effect' might cost something, the people who are given this product think it's worth more. The ipod is a great example of one such 'ipod effect' product. Which is why it makes for one of the most popular gifts marketers like to use for their promotions. Over 50% of the promotions in the last one year have given away ipods as prizes to the winners. And for good reason.

Most of the time, with certain emotional exceptions, people feel a gift is worth less to them than if they were to go out and buy it themselves. Something in the 'gifting activity' reduces the 'monetary attachment' that people have towards it. Some products escape this 'negative gifting effect'. The iPod, for instance. Can you think of other products that enjoy the 'ipod effect'?