Disclaimer:

This blog contains stuff that is totally out of my crackpot head and is not aimed at hurting anyone's feelings. For other physical side-effects like nausea, it is either your 'fate' or what you 'ate' that is to be blamed. Thank you.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Masala Impossible


I know Im terribly late (by atleast 5 months) on this post, for I had been held up with my 6th semester and had completely forgot about this. I became a fan of Tom Cruise after watching the Mission Impossible series. The thrill that his recent movie “Mission Impossible 4: Ghost Protocol” provided spurred me to think of a masala story for Mr. Cruise, Kollywood ishtyle. By the way, indha kadhaiyil varum anaithu kadhaapaathirangalum karpanaiye.

Introduction scene:

The marriage festival of a poor farmer’s daughter in a village near Madurai. All is well until the farmer father is beaten up and pushed outside his own house by the villain Rasu’s (Ralph Fiennes) sidekicks. Apparently he owes a lot of money in kandhuvaddi and has crossed the due date. He is tied to the Tata Sumo and dragged through the town in order to show the people what happens to those who don’t pay back the money on time. The scene ends with the bridegroom shouting over her dead father’s body “Aiyo, indha aniyaayatha kaekka inga yaarume illaya?

Chennai. A college’s farewell day celebration. A student was complaining on how he hadn’t studied for an exam in the last semester. Suddenly, out of nowhere, our hero Dhamu (Tom Cruise) jumps out and starts singing a motivational introduction song on how to learn with passion, choosing the right career path, and not to go behind success but make it follow you (while he himself had mugged up the entire syllabus sitting in the toilet on the night before exams).

Towards the end of the song, Dhamu receives a voice SMS from an unknown number asking him to read the message in private. The voice SMS gives all the necessary details (which is muffled over a serious BGM with the camera revolving around the face of Tom Cruise)

Voice on the SMS: “Mr. Dhamu, your mission, should you choose to accept it, involves finding one Mr.Rasu in Madurai and destroying his empire. Should you be caught or killed, the Secretary of IMF (Injampalayam Murattu Force) will disavow any knowledge of your actions.”

Dhamu: “Kanna, kaatha kaiyila pudikka mudiyaadhu. Naan puyal da!”

The movie is full of such witty, punchy, completely out of the context repaartees.


Other ‘necessary’ scenes:

The hero returns to his hometown in Madurai which for obvious reasons also houses the Villain’s lair. In the railway station, he accidently bumps, falls on the heroine and does angapradakshanam with her all over the platform (captured in slow motion, with a BGM of ‘love at first sight’ lyrics). Then there is this friend’s marriage function where they meet and roll again. And there is the accident, of the hero’s Yamaha and the heroine’s Scooty in which they roll again and it inevitably ends in the kiss. Even before applying tincture to their wounds, they fly to foreign locations and sing a duet praising the power of love (wearing tight jeans in the Sahara and sleeveless shirts in Antartica). Eventually, the hero finds out that she is his mama-ponnu Alli (Halle Berry).

Now Alli’s father also is indebted to Rasu. He makes a deal that if he cannot repay his debt, he would give Alli’s hand in marriage to Rasu. Dhamu understands that half the village is in debt to Rasu and all their legal papers are in Rasu’s custody.

With careful planning, Dhamu and his friends find the old trunk petti (maximum security storage area) in Rasu’s home paran (attic) where the legal papers are kept. Dhamu removes the odu (thatch), hangs upside down from the ceiling, retrieves the documents and distributes it to the villagers. Dhamu is made the village panchayat thalaivar.


Climax:

Rasu invites Dhamu to a 5 star buffet of meen kuzhambu on the 123rd floor of the Burj Khalifa to commemorate Dhamu’s victory in the panchayat election. It is here that Rasu reveals his ulterior motive. Having trapped all the villagers in the Sun network’s office in Mumbai, he had planned to kill them by launching a nuclear missile on them from the remote (with big green and red buttons for starting and stopping the timer) in his hands. He also reveals his cunning by having Alli and her father imprisoned on the 110th floor. Dhamu, half dying, has to now decide between his future family and common people (The original MI theme with slowly rising kuthu beats indicating the steady rise of anger in Dhamu which apparently seems to nullify the effect of the poison).

In a flash of a second, he throws the meen kuzhambu on Rasu’s face, dodges a 1000 bullets from his faithful sidekicks in Matrix style, removes his silver araignankodi, ties it to the window sill and rappels down to the 110th floor of the Burj Khalifa and rescues Alli and her father in Batman style. He again rappels up to the 123rd floor. Meanwhile, an enraged Rasu cleans his face off meen kuzhambu and reaches for the remote only to be kicked by Dhamu. In the ensuing fight, both of them fall off the window and land on the ground safely using their pattapatti underwear as parachutes. Dhamu reflects a bullet in mid-air and it hits the big red button on the remote. They continue their fight on the ground and villain Rasu is now losing. When Dhamu gets ready to strike the final blow, he finds Rasu’s widowed mom at his feet begging for mercy on her son’s life. Dhamu lets him free not before shouting the dialogue

“Inga thaanda iruppaen.. Indha mannula thaanda iruppaen.. Mudinja vandhu modhi paaruda..”

Dhamu and Alli walk along the shore of a beach. Subam.

A film by Brady Raja.

   

Thursday, May 24, 2012

The curious case of a Paatti getting trolled.


On the outset, Long distance trains are kinda cool. I had thought so, probably because

1. Other than the start and end point, most of the stations in between are reached at an unearthly hour.
2. Which implies, people do not pay much attention to these trains and it is easier to reserve a ticket.

I had lost all my hope on booking a ticket on the major trains from Coimbatore to Chennai when I managed to reserve not a seat but a berth on the Raptisagar express, which starts from Trivandrum in the south and ends at Gorakhpur in the north. A god given gift, I had thought. I was wrong, as usual.

--------------------------------------X-------------------------------------

“Paathu poittu vaango, athae. Seshadriya ungala Chennai station la pick up panna solraen. Vish, paatti kitta saettai panninde irukkaadhe..”

I had been sleeping on the upper berth, dreaming that my empty compartment would be filled by girls (particularly in the age bracket 16 – 21), only to be rudely awakened by the gruff voice of an elderly woman.

“Kavala padaathe ma. I will take care. Rendu pullaya valathuttaen.. Ivana naan paathukkaraen. Nee marakkaama Chechu kku phone panni station kku vara sollidu..”

I knew I had made a mistake not performing my usual pre-journey ritual of mugging up the limited Jaadhagam of my co passengers from the reservation chart.

I was lying there facing the wall while my mind drew a mental image of the voice. Large pottu, hair silver-dyed by age, gold frame spectacles, a thick silk saree over a thick layer of fat – ‘Naduthara vayadhu brahmana penmani' – as Kamalhassan would put it in ‘Avvai Shanmugi’. I looked down to see a 90% match of the above stereotypes. Close enough.

On the other upper berth was a typical north Indian cheap labourer, easily spotted by their shabby clothes and paan filled mouth. He was mostly sleeping throughout the entire journey on a cloth wrapped package the size of a mini UFO saucer. Within the next one hour, the compartment filled up, with two more elderly paattis and two Keralite men taking up my seat. I wouldn’t mind them as long as my berth is not compromised too.

“Bathroom enna ippadi narradhu. Chae, Veli naadula ellaam evlo cleanliness maintain pannuva theriyuma..”  the naduthara vayadhu brahmana penmani (nvbp) proclaimed. Other than the two other paattis, nobody seemed to care. Mr.Hindikaarar on the other upper berth even (knowingly or unknowingly) yawned to the comment and turned to face the wall and continue his slumber. The three paattis struck a conversation which started with ‘politics in Indian railways and how it has affected the S8 compartment toilet’ and ended with the nvbp bragging about her sons working in the Saudi and their handsome salaries. Kekhraan Mekhraan thaane? Naanum kaelvi pattirukkaen.

The time was 5:00 in the evening when I ordered tea from the pantry vendors. I decided to check my texts before delving into the pleasures of IRCTC’s cardamom tea. One of the two keralites was playing with the 6 months old granddaughter of one of the paattis. He was throwing her up like a rocket and catching her while I was sitting with my legs wide apart and feet on the other upper berth near Mr.Hindikaarar. That little devil, during her entry into the earth’s atmosphere, knocked my hot cup of tea and it spilled all over those who were sitting beneath my berth. Nvbp looked up, saw my legs that were apart and the tea that was dripping, and remarked in a quirky tone “Apdi enna avasaramo..” with a cackle of laughter.  Yes, my piss smells like cardamom, thanks for noticing.

I decided to buy another tea and quench my rage with it. The tea vendor gave back my change for 10Rs and a blind woman who was begging shoved her empty hand near me. I was unable to deny her request as I was caught-red-handed having change. As the self-made philanthropist that I was, I decided to give her a 2 rupees coin but accidentally dropped it. She coolly bent and picked it up and vacated the place!

At about 6:30, Mrs Nvbp woke me up from my sleep.

Nvbp : “Thambi, can you come down and have a seat so that Vish can sleep for sometime.”

Me (not wanting to get trolled anymore) : “No, I want to sleep. This is my berth.”

One of the other paattis (an anglo indian) : “He is right. It is his berth. See the person on the opposite upper berth. I bet he doesn’t have a ticket. Guys like him never reserve berths. Wake him up and ask him to leave.”

Nvbp (after shooting me a look of pure loathing, tries to frantically wake up Mr.Hindikaarar) : “Yeppa. Hello thambi.. Endhiri pa.. See, this boy.. he wants to sleep.. you get down.. go somewhere else.. unreserved compartment..”

Mr.Hindikaarar (half awake) : “Chod dho mujhe.. Kuththe saale!”

Nvbp : “Ticket illannaalum Hindi onna therinjikittu vandhidaraanga.. Ivanungala ellaam police la pudichi kudukkanum. TTR vandha complaint panna poraen.”

TTR on that train was a myth and Vish never got to sleep.

--------------------------------------X-------------------------------------

The train was 2 stations away from Chennai when Mr.Hindikaarar woke up with a start. He looked at his watch, looked down to see Mrs.Nvbp packing her suitcase and asked her

“Chennai station innum varaliya? Scheduled arrival 11:05 nnu thaane en ticket la pottirukku..”

So saying, he turned to the wall and started sleeping again.