Is ATP a hoax and other updates

Brilliante Award

First, thanks to Ladybird for giving me the brilliante blog award. She gives it to me hoping that it would prompt me to blog frequently. Thanks Ladybird for that diplomatic nudge.

Breaking News

And after some extensive investigation, lead by my colleagues, we come to the conclusion that Asal Tamizh Penn (ATP) is a hoax and much of the blog is fiction. At least she is not a journo with TH claims the majority of the population surveyed. Though I just cannot believe it, all evidence points au contraire.

I have to tell it for this writer - "hoax" or otherwise - she/he/whoever wrote extremely well, and could weave stories out of the most mundane activities like eating curd rice, drawing room discussions and picking up an aunt from the railway station.

Yet, I never liked ATP for her stereotyped of north Indians, her obsession with gothrams amidst other things. But, who am I to judge her blog, its hers, or his, or whose ever.

But still it was a bit scary to read her blog, because I cannot in a very naive way imagine journos as anything but open minded and objective. (Yes, I can hear you laughing.)

Though some office pals are enraged and are calling for blog ethics, I on the other hand believe in Sakshi Juneja's succinct byline - to each, his or her own.

Blog fodder

Gloria Steinem and Zuheir Hammad in conversation, a link via Mekie. She sure reads a lot every day.

And this amazing illustrations on the CERN experiment. I know everyone knows about PhD comics but I cant help but marvel at their brilliance. After all, what many write in 4000 words, these guys sum up in five comic strips! Pure genius.

Some day, ah...someday, the news industry will catch up.

the rain in spain and other phonemes

I take it you already know
of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
on hiccough, thorough, laugh and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
to learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard, a dreadful word,
that looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead -- it's said like bed not bead --
and for goodness' sake don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt)

A moth is not the moth in mother,
nor both in bother, broth in brother.
And here is not a match for there,
nor dear and fear for bear and pear.
And then there's dose and rose and lose --
just look them up -- and goose and choose,

and cork and work and card and ward,
and font and front and word and sword,
and do and go and thwart and cart --
come, come I've hardly made a start.
A dreadful language? Man alive.
I'd mastered it when I was five.

(author?)

~~
via a forward, does anyone know its origins?

Laloo knows best

Ha, the Indian politician knows best. Now, you know why he/she does not speak real issues but about him/herself and all about his/her glory.

But seriously, a great piece on American psychology and why Obama can still lose.
(courtesy: the office email grapevine)

And in the same political vein,
this time Indian;
another great take,
though stale.

happy day

Yesterday - sunday - felt so long and so good. Wonder why? Maybe it was the long, lazy morning chat with grandparents after ages or aunt's fresh pineapple juice or mum's aloo channa or simply because I filed away papers carefully, de-cluttered my shelves and concurrently my head.

To top the day, I watched Godzilla with siblings (was too scared to watch it at theatres when it first released) and the second part of Happy Days (courtesy: JJ). A dish about Happy Days: It was not good, it was not logical or perfectly made, even though it comes from the director of Anand and Godavari. Yet, the film is worth all the cliches: heart-warming, fresh, feel-good and beautiful. Though a bit of the college stereotype, it took both sis and me with a wave of college-days nostalgia and sis suddenly felt old. Not me!

I loved the Tyson and Shravanti angle of the story and am still humming its "Arey rey, Arey rey". Just been reading up on its making and the film has an impressive resume: fresh actors from internet auditions, five filmfares and Mickey J Meyer's music. It is highly recommended, even for NGs (non-golts). Happy Days was dubbed in Malayalam as well. I am determined to watch the film again, this time from start.

State of fear

Weird things happen in Chennai (I dont know about other metros).

Why did that guy leave me his number at Pizza hut, while the others in his gang stared me like that?

Now, who sent this guy to hit hard on my hand and bum when the harmless me was walking on the road and he on his bike?

I remember my roommate visibly scared running towards the house we stayed at around 11 in the night saying that a guy on his bicyle tried to sexually harass her. And the very next week she was followed by a group of four people in a car till our house....

Some days later when we thought the place we stayed was not safe and decided to move to another other place, we happened to come late to the house once after a late night food festival assignment, and one guy followed us begging to spend some time with him.....we felt the insecurity, which was far terrible than the thought that we are helpless.

Hating Chennai was not the solution, we knew....but what was the solution, we didnt know. But initially I felt unsafe only in the place I stayed. But the present area, the places I go for reporting and even the most familiar place to me in Chennai - my cousins place where I stayed for more than three years - everywhere seems unsafe for me now just for being a woman.

Its shameful for all of us if a girl has to walks on the road holding her hands against her breast to protect herself from the sex-starved bastards...

- renitha is a journalist based in chennai. She plans to work as an activist in gender and children-related issues - CSA and empowerment.

Update: I have seen that Tulir does some amazing work on CSA-related issues and there is the blank noise project, one of the few places where you get to hear the dissonances. Tulir has a great quote from Einstein: "The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil but because of the people who don't do anything about it."

Tata NoNo....

Update:

Seven blogs a day are talking about the environmental impact of the Dhamra project. And more than 70,000 Tata customers have written to Ratan Tata, asking him to relocate the project....we need to save the ridleys and a sensitive ecosystem.

The project's banking agent is also reconsidering the project because of the environmental impacts. Wow! We can do something here. If you want to leave a message, write to Greenpeace and Light a candle .

Burp!

Oh yes, I am going to go out for dinner. Actually, someone is organising a treat and I am to join on the condition that I suggest the perrrrrrfect place for an eclectic mix of veggies, chickentarians and a german with a sensitive tongue.

Being an eating-out primitive, I outsourced knowledge from an office pal. And this one is a real treasure, she can hold fort over an entire lunch session going on about the nuances of hilsa cooking! Now, of what use is it to precis-write excellent gourmet insights into an LMS (thats what my messages are popularly known as)?? Ergo, I offer my accquired expertise:

Bella Ciao - authentic Italian, cheesy and terrace seating. A winner from what I hear despite the price (400 a meal) and its location (choked Nungambakkam high road). Benjorang on TTK road sounds to be similar.

For Japanese and Vietnamese food, I am told there are places like Akasaka, Lotus and Dahlia. And there is the wide spectrum of chinese places: dragon motiffed, dark ones where we can hardly read the menu and are forced to order gobi manchurian from memory - to authentic chinese places where the meat is hardly cooked. These guys forget that our taste buds were conquered long ago by our north-east brothers who finely balance namma patti's garam masala with dollops of ajinomoto.

Places like Wangs Kitchen, Golden Dragon and Chinatown are somewhere in between. There is also Sigri above Mainland China, which I am told is good.

Once upon a time, I worked on some ads for Copper Chimney, and I cant forget that as a client, they were made in bad taste. Eden on the other hand gives some nostalgic memories as an intern and yes, their menu card is a writer's delight.

If you feel like ghooey sabjis and gheey rotis, there is Peshwari (Cathedral road), Tandoor, Kabul and Basera (nearTiruvanmiyur). In Basera, you can eat on tree tops! Now, that is something I must lobby for, even if it means having to arrange for transport.

For mallu food, there is Tharavad and Kumarakom, but then what will veggies like me eat at these places?? Nibble on the banana leaf?? Sorry people, no Karimeen curry for you'll. The same goes for Bong food, not so popular in the city. Must be the mustard. My sis once had to painfully control her puke after a fishy dish until her host finally left the table. Sorry bong pals, no offence here, I love your sandesh and rosogollas. My bong friends btw generally swear by Bayleaf in Gopalapuram, when they feel like a quick, homey, mustard fix.

I am really tempted to try Aiwo adjoining Barista (Nungambakkam High Road), for its buffet on a conveyor and tempting names of dishes. Krish Ashok has a nice blog about it. The best part is that your buffet comes in a conveyor belt and at just 200 for a person. Clear winner!
New Yorker again on the advice of blog guru Krish Ashok sounds quite tempting, maybe I will get the chickentarians to treasure hunt for a leg piece in the salad bowl.

Personally, I love masala dosa at Saravana Bhavan and authentic Udipi sambar. But I guess, one must occasionally go to places where we are forced to curse under our acidic breath for an hour as the chefs decide where to shop. I must remember my pattani sundal and tehelka for company.

No entry

You cant drive-in into Woodlands anymore....I feel a dull pang for the leafy place that wooed our hearts and gastric juices. Actually, more than the food, it was the ambience that drew the salesman, college-kid, uncle and humble celebrity.
I can bet on their delicious upuma that atleast 1o businesses would have kick-started everyday at their place. The ambience was so addictive. Over those steaming hot coffees, so many plans from starting creches to HR consultancies have wafted over.
Woodlands was the heart of the city in many ways....so many kalyana alliances have been worked out there, a friend of mine chose woodlands for its onion oothappam and and friendly green, when she had to meet her prospective father-in-law. Her choice of place alone bowled over the finicky physics professor.
I have always wanted to do a photo-feature of the place - its non-interfering waiters who let us spend an hour over a podi masala dosa, the uncles and aunts who would click their tongues, relishing poori kilangu, at the stella gals and loyola boys meeting there after college, the sales guys striking a mini-lunch deal, the journos sulking over coffee and looking for stories, the occasional celeb face driving in with a chauffeur who would get the order, the school kids recharging with juices between school and swimming lessons and so many more..........
It was probably never the same as it was in the 70s and 80s - the ultimate place for a light evening meal - but it was still very special for all of us who grew up on bribes of channa bhatura and ice-cream at woodlands if we had to spend an afternoon reading at the american library bank opposite.

P.S: the state horticulture society has reclaimed the lung of a land, but given the state's record in turning heritage buildings into steel and glass high-rises, I have no hopes of seeing a lal bag a la bangalore.

Chewing Cud

Simply put the word "review" in your search engine along with your other topic terms to find articles of this type on the Internet or in an electronic database. The bibliography or reference section of sources that you have already read are also excellent entry points into your own research.
- Unarguably one of the best research tips that I have come across. But I took no risks, I first tried it on blogosphere with some amazing results. Ah, well.....research can wait.

Dr. Mosi's Kral is a must read link on the trail of viruses and on the art of how to hold up drinks. Quite like Krish Ashok and sometimes even better. No offence there to Jalsa and Jilpa, I simply revere it.
Anything sells on a day when you are stuck in office because of rain, but to be honest, this one does have its own little nuggets.
PhD comics - it says it all, for anyone who has photocopied the same book twice without realising, will know what it is to Pass with High Difficulty.
Lazy Geek meets samanth subramaniam circa his IIT times. Unfortunately Samanth's writing these days are too frontline-ish, I can no longer read them. Son of Bosey is still in my league.
There is something about lalita, quite like a poignant telugu poem.
Get your cartoon done or gift one, it doesnt matter, it all goes towards saving the near extinct, Panthera tigris.
Thought process is nothing much to think about but makes quite a read - particularly its Ugadi wishes and the Noodle revolution - makes a read.
Fellow Singleton, and I am quite impressed!
This is so madras, so iyer and so funny. As most of my childhood was with these geeks, I know the feeling. And in the same vein, NRI maami.
A tibetan for tibet's sake and satire.
Thulu has a script and loads of poetry in its blood....spilt here, but better out than in.
Saffron Tree makes you want to pick up a book and settle near a window.
And a green cousin of the slightly dysfunctional mutineers. And more green, this time, damn good with ground realities and satire.
Inspiring stories of rebellious people who change wrongs.
Am yet to volunteer with the blank noise project or tulir for that reason, hope this reminds me.
Local flavour and free verse that is nice here.
There is no point to this, its simple punditry, poetic and about chennai photowalks.
For once, I didnt feel like editing a blog. The Chennai Metblogs is all about the city I love.
Senior, neenga vaalga! I still remember with gratitude how he was generous about his comments on our first journal.
And these have helped me a bit or by two bytes.
A London post that I like, maybe because I am reading Bryson.
And something useful for once on blogosphere, must pass it on to my aunt.
And thus I spent a lean day at office, the rain outside added to the flavour.

A whole new meaning~!

I was at the Pudiyador, Vannandurai centre last sunday. Wow!!
The place looks fabulous. For someone who saw it on the first day it opened up - an unused corporation building freshly cleaned of years-old-grime, musty and plain - it looked remarkably well-loved, full of life and bursting with energy.
Charts on the wall monitor every child's individual performance in academics and extra-curricular activities. Library and store-room duties are assigned to kids who maintain them diligently. And the decibel levels were ear-splitting as volunteers from Ivolunteer were just wrapping up the sunday's events and games. Pudiyador, Vannandurai is at home and is second-home to most of the kids now.
I still remember how I freaked out when I had to manage a film screening for the kids on the day Pudiyador Vannandurai started. After that I have gone there only occasionally, though every time I meet someone who could help us, I promptly do a PR fix....theatre, puppeteers, teachers, funders, potential volunteers.
It is nothing compared to the ground work that Pudiyador volunteers (balaji and co) do at the various centres or what the core committee does when organising funds, exhibitions, and programmes. But I am really glad that however fleeting and insignificant, I do my bit. But it is humbling when I see how much mekie and and the rest of the gang (manix, divs, swaps) does, even from as far as Ann Arbor.
If you'll have any good books for children, in tamil and english - on science particularly - do send them to Pudiyador, Vannandurai, Adayar, Chennai - 40. Alternately, if you know me, you could drop it with me. And if you have a story to tell or time to help someone with their homework, do let us know.

Chicken soup for the single gal~!

Dick Cheney has a pacemaker, while Paul Theroux was talking to us after travelling across half the globe in trains and tuk-tuk's. Both were in grad school at the same time.

After making such a strong case, could anyone be unconvinced that the average travel writer has more health, morale and fun than most people?! Well, there is always the diplomat who is paid for visiting places and talking with people. But then, luck is fickle!

An evening with Theroux and two great book lovers, also colleagues, was quite like chicken soup for the single gal who is facing the maternal whiplash for having attended too many friends' weddings but refusing to have one of her own in the very-near future.

Theroux the gentleman helped by being completely charming.....he had looked up all the Medford-Madras connects and took us through many including our Ice House, which stored ice from places such as Theroux's hometown of Medford, since the 1830s. Globalisation a la two frozen atoms of hydrogen and one atom of oxygen!

How does it feel not to be recognised with awards?

Theroux the artful dodger: Oh, governments dont like their writers, they always like second-hand writers. And Nobel Prize is more like the Swedish lottery.

So Sir. Vidia Naipaul, your mentor, was one?

There are always exceptions and he is a great writer.

Theroux on writing tips to nubile writers:

Read a lot, leave home, travel, love people and find someone other than your parents who would encourage your writing. And most importantly, never refuse an opportunity to write anything. Book review? Yes. Op-ed? Yes. Blurb? Yes.

Any thumbrules?

Write what you believe and feel strongly about.

Is writing a tough job?

It is a picnic when compared to picking prickly pineapples.

What do you want to write about?

Someday about the British, the way they write about the rest of the world.

On the whole, Theroux was trying to cover up for his relationship-gone-sour with Naipaul and refusing to be rude to anyone. He after all was now a grown man and not the punk who helped a political opponet of Hastings Banda escape to Uganda.

But when the city's social do's coincide with your lean week shift, its delightful, particularly with brownies being served. The city's US consulate sure knows how to draw a crowd.

A former colleague now with them gave J (book lover 1) a painstaking introduction with Theroux. But J simply kept her lips glued. When asked later as to why, she of all, was so tongue tied, she simply said...."he doesnt suffer fools~!"

P.S: I caught an old pal, now with IE, who was getting back home after reporting....I mean what about filing copies and all that? Oh...I can do that from home, she says. The new world of cyber journalism beckons.

Summer of 2008~!

Its summer again.....the mango tree outside our office canteen is in full bloom and today I saw small little mangoes announcing their season.
I love summers, despite the sweltering heat and sweat. The warm colours of long evenings, the tender coconuts at bus stops, cucumber and watermelon salads sold on the suburban train, and people finally waking up to make sure that their taps dont leak. After all, fighting with neighbours over a few buckets of water is not far behind. I am particulary glad that we will see less of mosquitoes, they have been dotting the city's sky like dust for the past few months.
Summer once meant going to the beach with my grandfather, playing from dawn to dusk at my maternal grandmother's home and the delightful knowledge that no one could ask me to put down my story book for anything else. Later it was bright internships with friends, where work was for fun's sake.
I wonder how this summer will be, last year wasnt bad....I made new friends~!!

Tagore in A Moment's Indulgence:
"Today the summer has come at my window with its sighs and murmurs; and
the bees are plying their minstrels at the court of the flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure."

Music and monsoons!!

Sundays are my days......no matter how heavily rain god decides to come down, I insist on having my way. So despite a strongly-brewing cyclone, a fallen tree on Spurtank road and "are you mad...in this weather" dialogues from my folks, I went ahead for a story-telling programme at Alliance with Meg and not-so-lil bro.

Meg is a sport but lil bro is a "I dont mince my words" critic, particularly if it is one of my schemes. So he smirked at me for most of the show.

I withered under his gaze and rightly deserved it....the 'prince-and-the pearls' story felt like watching rain ruin chennai's miserable roads; the 'saas-bahu' piece felt like damp clothes all over the house; and the 'guru-shishya' one, bleak as a power cut.

But Vedanth Bharadwaj's music that was offered as a commercial break proved to be the "wells and reservoirs are full after rains" kinda news story amidst the milieu.

Familiar notes from Indian poets delivered in his great voice wiped the smirk off my bro's face. And a tamil song "ennamma thozhi" about loss and love finally managed to uplift us from brooding about the maddening flood outside.

It was worth braving rain god's wrath and all those uncovered potholes - by now turned into unholy springs of rain water and sewage. But just like the advertisements, however better scripted than the sunday-evening film on tv, Vedanth's session was short.

The stories were definitely warm and grandma's stuff for lil kids, but not in the league of bro and his generation's idea of 200 per cent entertainment.

While story-trails and Vijay who want to revive the tradition of story-telling put in some great effort..... it did not match up to the standards of other home-bred story-telling geniuses such as Jeeva Raghunath.

Story trails' sensitive and timely standing ovation to the audience for making it to the show was the silver lining. Water logging at Alliance went up by atleast half a metre by the time the programme was over and we had to call meg's bro to bail us out with a car! But hey....it was worth it.

~~~~
Vedanth, who succintly compared a musician's trade to the weather outside, has put together a CD - 'Mati Kahe'.

Its a good buy and a compilation of numbers by the Bhakti saints - Mira and Surdas - remember those horrendous music and bhajan sessions back at school. Vedanth actually uplifts them and makes it sound great.

Also we found that "ennamma thozhi" (http://www.youtube.com/user/rajesh29dec) was originally sung by Bindumalini, our Loyola-NID pal. Bindu claims that a five-year-old who came to her for music lessons taught her this number!

The day just got better and better! When we reached home, I passed dear brother a glass of warm milk with some 'grow-up' looks!!
romie ;)

Update: 'Ennamma Thozhi" will feature in a new Tamil flick Kaatru Pani. Some lines have been added though and as B says, maybe the song with its four-line verse was just perfectly incomplete. But then, its cinem-ah.


Picture: Jeeva Raghunath performing at a theatre workshop at AFC. Credit: Moi~!

Sunset on a lean week

With mekie calling this a phoenix blog and polite friends sending in smileys.....I am tempted to write about yesterday evening, simply being itself.

The best part of working for a fortnightly are mondays and tuesdays on a lean week......the stories are still still trickling in, book reviews and artsy stuff.

So as one leaves for home by 4.30-5, there is a lightness in the step and the world outside is yellow and mellow. Otherwise one doesnt get to see the evening sun at all, nor the bustle of the evening market.

In an auto down Chintadripet's crowded main street.....scents and smells of an usual evening are immensely pleasurable. Reminiscient of university days down the same route laden with books.

As traffic stands still, my grandmum's childhood memories of the side streets, kite-flying, the old cook, and playing alongside my grandfather take life in the five-feet high smoke.

Back in the present:
a police wallah makes a u-turn on the congested road, bus drivers make way for an old cyclist on a narrow gali. agarbathis for ganesha fail before the fish market; colourful temple stores and flower sellers make brisk business. tumeric and queuing sick patients, flower garlands and tea-boys, 40-kgs of rice balanced on a skinny TVS 50.


Walking down, I make shadow figures, file in step with school kids and look behind hoping my brother would join for an early evening of fighting and pulling each other's leg.

Milk with grandparents; they catch up with the newspaper as I look down on the street. Rudely inquisitive neighbour readies to make a kolam. White poetry on unyeilding black.

I swivel and bask in sunlight streaming down french windows that illuminate my grandpa's junk. It doesnt seem so bad after all. My aunt's smile at an early entry and warm noodles. I curl around a magazine on the terrace, watching the sun set, promises to read forgotten.

Glimpsed once in a fortnight, these evenings are special. I never knew they existed when I got back from college teaching most afternoons.

grinning lazily,
romila ;)

look within: ganesh and auto wallahs vy with each other for space. taken by me