Could we have a little chat about my rebirth please...

If there is such a thing as rebirth, and if I am ever destined to be born yet again and again, I earnestly wish to be born in Tamil Nadu, and Tamil Nadu alone. This I tell YOU now, just in case I forget to in my old age, senility possibly having taken control of my mind then.

Sway with Michael Buble...

A Lullaby for The Child of My Heart...

FileFactory.com

R.I.P. Nagesh...

I just heard the news in passing at the sundry shop I went to a while ago. The three indian ladies there were animatedly discussing it. I felt uneasy as I drove back, the same kind of unease I feel whenever I hear people of immense talent and greatness pass on. I can't say I am Nagesh's die-hard fan, but I have always adored his comedy. Afterall, this was a man whom I grew up identifying Thamizh cinema comedy with.

New comedians may and come and go, but Nagesh will remain a legend unforgotten for decades to come. I still remember how I kept replaying the movie Athey Kangal when I first came across it more than 15 years ago, just to watch his portrayal of the character Rosie again and again. The man must have had comedy infused within his being when he was born - for how else can one explain his perfect intonation for comedy, and how lithe his body always appeared as he jived his way into the hearts of thamizhians worldwide.

Alas, yet another thamizh cinema great has moved on, having perfectly played the role he was assigned to in this birth.

The scenes below were taken from Kathalikka Neramillai, in which Nagesh played the role of Chellappa, the aspiring director and son of estate owner Visvanathan played by T.S. Balaiya, a remarkable comedian himself.

Sweet...

A beautiful song in a movie from the nineties that has stood the test of time despite a lousy storyline and an equally lousy cast, thanks to Ilayaraja's classic composition and Yesudass's divine voice...

One Against The Other...

Icy winds blow my way,
ruffled, I turn away,
my feet planted firmly on the spot.

It's Been Difficult Without You...

Tears streamed down my cheeks,
as I touched your face a while ago.

A picture though you have now become.
Absent though you are in body and flesh.
I keep wishing I could have you back in whole.

A selfish wish that is, I know.
But it's been difficult without you amma.
I am lost like a child without your physical presence in my life.

I wish you would show me a sign,
that you are still here with me, within me.
I need you now more than ever.
Much more than when you were physically here.

Come guide me, won't you,
come guide your lastborn,
as she struggles...
to stay worthy of the role you left her with.

A Super Cool Version of Hush Little Baby...

Morbid Humour At Its Best...

Ramblings of a Sleep-doused Woman on an Equally Sleepy Afternoon...

I started this blog a little more than a year ago with the intention of making it my 'practice-ground'.

As I reflect today on all that I had written (and unwritten) in it, I realise how effective a "teacher" this blog has been to me in the past one year. It was this blog that made me realise that I too could write some poetry, lousy though they may be in comparison to others'. But write I did - one poem after another - as easily as I breathed. I suppose that was a different phase than what I am going through now.

These days poetry comes to me only occassionally. It asks triggers of me that I cannot offer at its whims and fancies. It longs for an artistic muse who no longer exists in my life. And so nowadays, I find myself compensating (poems) with prose in retaliation. Though somewhat more tedious, prose appears to be less demanding on me. It (prose) forms itself as I type away, independently stringing the words I have in my head into comprehensible sentences, and then into coherent paragraphs. And yes, less clingy they are too.

Perhaps, poetry came into my life so that I could get it out of my system once and for all. Now, there won't be any regret. would there? Poetry in. Poetry out. Score settled. The page is empty once again to start anew. Yet another year. Yet another 'chapter' to be written.

Only this time around, the 'chapter' has to lead to another...and another, and another...

Heck, must everything I write make sense ? I think not, and this post is a classic example.

Bharathi's Romanticism in Hariharan's Voice...

Suttum vizhich chudar thaan kannamma sooriya chandhiraro.
Vattakkariya vizhi kannamma vaanak karumai kollo.
Pattukkaru neela pudavai, padiththa nal vairam.
Natta nadu nisiyil, theriyum, nakshathirangaladi.

Solai malar oliyo, unadhu sundharappunnagai thaan.
Neelak kadal alaye, unadhu nenjin alaigaladi.
Kolakkuyil osai unadhu, kuralin inimaiadi.
Vaalaik kumariyadi kannama, maruvakkaadhal konden.

Saaththiram pesugirai kannamma, saaththiram edhukkadi.
Aaththiram kondavarke kannamma, saaththiram undodi.
Mooththavar sammadhiyil vadhuvai, muraigai pinbu seivom.
Kaaththiruppenodi, idhu paar, kannaththu muththam ondru

Malaysian Artistes Unite in Pretentiousness...

The song's good and catchy. Would have been a commendable effort had it not been for the artistes' pretentious, overly-done body language and facial expression. In their attempt to be casual and cool, our Malaysian artistes end up acting as silly and aimless as anyone possibly could. But then again, what else is new with Malaysian creativity, and mentality...

Wind Beneath My Wings by Bette Midler...

A Thought Provoking Read...

(The article below appeared in a local daily today).

A MAN sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a three-year-old boy. His mother tagged him along, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time.

This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only six people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk at their normal pace. He collected US$32 (RM112). When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth US$3.5mil (RM12.25mil).

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theatre in Boston and the seats average US$100 (RM350).

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organised by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people.

The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognise the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?

வார்த்தைகள்...

Arrogance Loses Out to Grace...

I can't help but think that Padmini's effortless grace makes Vyjayanthimala's moves appear a tad too crass in this dance video. While it's true that the latter's role in the movie Vanjikohtai Vaaliban called for royal arrogance, she could have done more justice to the dance than allow that arrogance to permeate her physical moves. Even an evil woman must have some grace surely...especially when she is dancing...