RIP Michael Jackson

It was raining and we were scurrying for cover in VGP Golden Beach. It was 1989. I refused to budge. They were playing Thriller. That was the first time I heard MJ. I was transfixed. "What music is this?" I asked someone and they laughed at me. "That's Michael Jackson, stupid!" Now, I was a small town boy and we didn't get any 'western music' records. When I walked into the music store on Church street in Chittoor, the next week, and asked for Thriller the store guy clucked his tongue and said 'No. I have to order it from Madras. Double charge. Will take 10 days. Shall I?"

I hadn't heard his music before. I heard of this guy MJ all right but for a 16 year old back in 1989, 200 bucks were a lot of money. To this day I don't know why I said "Yes!" to that store guy. I am glad I did.

I played Thriller endlessly on our Dyanora-National '2-in-1' Cassette player. Before long I had Bad too in the collection. My neighbours, who thought I was this nice kid that knew his manners, were in for a shock. They enquired about those strange, loud noises that exploded from my room. It was me practicing the MJ hiccup. Or the squeal. My mom proudly proclaimed to her friends "Vaadu Ingleesh paatalu paaduthunnadandi!" (He is singing English songs). The next thing I did shocked the shit out of everyone. I put some FEM facial bleach on my side locks and hey presto! I had light brown side locks. I cut my hair and ensured that one strand of it fell on my forehead. The strand became brown but refused to curl up despite hours of trying it.

I know that all kids go through this. But to do something like that in Chittoor back then was true rebellion. There was no real TV. There were no top 20 countdowns on the radio. There was no Internet. Heck, if you had a phone, you were considered a rich man!

I am sure most of the people thought I was a clown. They were right. I wanted suspenders, I think because I saw an MJ's picture in which he wore suspenders. Now, forget suspenders, Chittoor was getting used to trousers only then. I was way ahead of time. So I decided to make my own suspenders. I bought two thick strips of elastic and had my tailor stitch it to my new chocolate brown baggy trousers. Believe me when I say this: I wore those custom made suspenders and tried hitting on girls. In retrospect, it explains why I never got any.

I felt sad when I watched Chiranjeevi (I am a big fan!) dance for 'Kashmora kaugilisthey...' in Dhonga. It was a poor imitation of the legendary Thriller. When I whispered to my friend sitting next to me in the movie hall "That's a copy of..." He interjected "Impossible. Chiru doesn't tolerate copying." I mumbled "Right!" and realised that I was seeing, listening to, and understanding things that the average lower middle class Chittoor kid would never imagine existed. That's when I decided "I need to get out of this town." And I did. No no, not that I don't love that town... just that I knew that I had to get out and see other places. Bigger places.

MJ has provided 'inspiration' to quite a few movie music composers in India. I know composers that made a career out of Dangerous alone. One of the reviews of Dangerous said "...bound to provide content for the Indian movie music for years to come." And, you know that is the truth. Before long MJ was a house hold name. I can't think of any 'western' musician that achieved the same distinction. Of course, when Prabhudeva was given the dubious title 'MJ of India' I laughed.

I think MJ is the only western musician my grand ma tolerated. I think she actually liked his music though she doesn't understand a word of what he sings. I am quite sure my granny is sad today. So am I. I know I'll forget this day and move on to grapple with vicissitudes of life. But I want to pause and pay a little to tribute to dear MJ. Thank you for the music MJ. Rest in peace.

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Yahoo Domains: Insufferable and Dirty

I booked a domain name last year using Yahoo Domains. This year they increased their renewal prices without a notification to my principal mail id (which is Gmail).
They bill my credit card without asking me if I want to renew a domain for 34.95 USD Yes. 34.95 for a domain name.


Fine, probably I didn't read some fine print. I am a moron but shouldn't there be a way I can get in touch with them? I mean I fucking paid money and bought something from them... No. There is a convoluted wizard where you choose your problem and click continue... see http://smallbusiness.yahoo.com/contactus/. After I clicked Continue, a cute little note said:


So I tried setting up a "call back" with Yahoo. You make an online request and they'll call you. But no. Because my yahoo account did not have my phone number, they wanted me to updated my account with my phone and then request a Call Back. I tried that too but it said "Sorry the system accepts only 10-digit numbers..." And by that time I was like "Can't you count bitch!"

Anyway. I want you to do me a favor. I want Yahoo to answer me just one question.
"How the fuck can you hike your prices and bill my card with the new price without asking me if I am okay with it?" And, the only way I see it happening is by you and me making a lot of noise. So please post a link to this post on Twitter, Facebook, Orkut, Myspace and what not. Will you do that for me? Please?

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Music Yogi: "It is okay if you don't buy our CDs"

A colleague of mine recommended a CD of Karnatriix. I fell in love with their music. And Karnatriix sells their CDs on Music Yogi. I wrote about their "IE only website earlier... If you thought that was bad, check this out.
I called Music Yogi. They provided a number on their website. Some guy picks the phone

Me: Is this Music Yogi?

Guy1: Who is this?

Me: I got your number from the website?!?

Then the guy yells out to some other guy.

Guy2: Hello?

Me: Is this Music Yogi?

Guy2: Yes?

Me: I have some feedback on your websi...

Guy2: Yeah, we are having problems... which CD do you want?

Me: Album called Namaste by Karnatriix?

Guy2: You can send a DD if you want...

Me: Dude! I thought this was 2009??

Guy2: Dude! That's what I told you! The site is not working. I am giving you options.

Me:Listen, I don't think you should get cocky. I mean you're trying to sell something to me and your system is broken! I don't think I have time to go cut a DD... so I...

Guy2: I will give you options, if you don't buy, that's cool too.
Me: !!!! okay! What other options do I have?

Guy2: I'll give you a user id. Use that to log in. Punch in your card details. And we'll send the CD. Or you could transfer the money to an account number and let us know...

Me: Erm, No, I'll pass.

Click!

Whoa! And I thought they were serious about their business. Imagine. He is asking me to use some login credentials that is not mine. And, he has the audacity to ask me to feed my card details. Good luck Music Yogi! And like I said, this is 2009 and it is a sin to be clueless on how to run a simple e-commerce site to sell CDs.

And when you publish a phone number on your fucking website, you don't greet callers with "Who is this?" I am sure you are a cool cat. Been there done that and all that crap, but as a customer I expect a little bit of courtesy.

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Testing ping.fm ignore.

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99 Movie Review

A low-profile movie (by Bollywood standards) that has no real star power releases. It doesn't get too much media attention (by Bollywood standards again). But slowly but surely it creates a buzz. A friend mentions it on the phone. Colleagues talk about it. No, they are not gushing about it or anything. It is a calm acknowledgment of a good movie. It has grossed 7.24 Crores under two weeks. To me that's an indication that people enjoyed the movie. It is solid testimony to the fact that if you stuck to fundamentals and create a rewarding, engaging experience for the viewer, you will succeed. Star or no star. Media hype or no hype.

99 is a laugh-out-loud funny movie that tells the story of two young men that want to make it big (hit a century, if you will). Centered around the match-fixing, betting controversy, this tightly scripted tale is a laugh riot. Mahesh Manjrekar who plays the bookie called AGM will be long remembered for his role. Except for Soha Ali Khan who plays Pooja, each character in the movie pulls it weight and helps in making 99 a cohesive, endearing, and thrilling movie experience. Cyrus Broacha is a revelation on the big screen!

Directors DK and Raj painstakingly recreate the mad mad years gone by... when the mobile phone was still a fad. When polyphonic ringtones were not mainstream yet. The attention to detail was fantastic.

The humor is not the typical filmy slapstick but is more like funny situations and one-liners that we come across in our day-to-day life. You will relate to it. Also the irreverent, Guy Ritchie-meets-Tarantino style kind of worked out.

However, the first half slightly drags but in retrospect I understood that it is that way because the directors were setting it all up for a racy, thrilling second half. Save the best for the last I guess.

Watch out for DK and Raj. Their best is yet to come. I am guessing their second or third Bollywood venture will make history. Good luck boys!

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My Friend Sancho - Review

Amit Varma's debut novel My Friend Sancho is a welcome change. I say this not because of its literary merit. It is a welcome change because a) It is pop-fiction b) It does not try tricks like that IIT-MBA fellow whatever his name is (blending bollywood and cricket, well fuck you!) and most importantly c) It is almost-honest writing. No holier-than-thou shit.

It is a funny book. For people with average sense of humor that is. That's like 99.999999% of people. So I enjoyed it. For example, that MF line. And the oft-repeated imaginary dialogue. Note to Amit: Stop saying 'So there.' so often. So there.

Amit Varma uses his book to promote his blog. That's quite smart. I am sure Amit, on his birthday every year, sends a 'Congrats' card to his parents.

But does Sancho provide a great experience? Well not quite. I know Amit is capable of much, much more. The book hurries you. I was expecting an Andhra meal and I got a vada pav. For instance, Muneeza's character was till growing on me when the book ended. Is she a modern, muslim girl? A middle class chic restrained until now but waiting to fly free? Doesn't she want a boyfriend? Did she ever date? Did any guy hit on her any time? If yes how did she react? The trouble with the character is that the minute you realize she is a victim-muslim, you think "Zaheera!" I am sorry but I couldn't help it. And Amit's effort to position Muneeza as a 'modern' girl does not quite succeed. But, I won't blame Amit for it. Like I said I am the average reader with average intelligence and imagination. Or maybe Amit was so caught up with Abir Ganguly that he missed some fine tuning on Muneeza. Amit may claim that he is not Abir but hey! :)

I don't know if I am writing this because I have followed Amit's blog and met him a couple of times... I tried to be as honest as I can be. Um, so there!

This is the kind of a book that you'd finish in one sitting. Probably during your commute. And you'll probably startle your fellow passengers with your laughter. So go ahead and give it a spin.

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Observations of an Amateur Bird Photographer

I had posted this on India Nature Watch long time back...

It is the journey. Not the destination.

I used to go to Hebbal lake to photograph birds. What's the big deal? Only, I was armed with my mighty Nikkor 18-70 MM and I used to wonder 'Why in the god's name do the Pelicans appear so distant.' Yeah. Laugh away. That's when one of the gentlemen who was armed with something that closely resembled a Bazooka told me 'Er, you need a bigger lens?' And I bought myself a Nikon 70-300 G for a little over five thousand bucks. Improvement? Yes. Satisfied. Hell no. Well, my point here is, whether I was trying to photograph birds with my kit lens or my poor man's telephoto lens, the journey has always been the same. I discovered my inherent ability to get closer to birds. My wife laughs every time she catches me crawling on all fours to shoot birds at ground level. Once in Savandurga I spent more than half hour getting close to a Magpie Robin. I had to crawl through thorny bushes; in fact I managed to cut my calf muscle. And, just a microsecond before I squeezed the shutter, the Robin took off. And in Lalbagh once, a Purple Swamp hen came and stood right in front of me and I had to freeze for well over five minutes. And, resist the temptation to scratch my neck. The journey, my friends, was and still is the same: exciting, fun, and inspiring. So on days when you go back home without a single decent shot, well, don't be too hard on yourself. It is the journey that counts. Not the destination or that award winning pic.


Let them come to you

I know that all the bird watchers I admire, including Sudhir Shivram, Vijay Cavale have this to say about getting close to a bird: let them come to you. Simple? No! It is easier said than done. Last week in Nandi Hills, my excitement got the better of my judgement and I went chasing a bunch of Orietnal White Eyes. I was exasperated when I realized that there was no way I was going to capture them in a frame. So, I wanted to rest. I found myself a quiet place, surrounded by bush and untouched for the day by humans. I dozed off on a rock. When I woke up after about 15 minutes, I realised that I was surrounded by at least 20 birds! Red Whiskered Bulbuls, Rufous Bellied Babblers, a solitary Jungle fowl, and of course the White eyes. I made it a point to not make any abrupt movements. In fact I did not even feel like taking pictures. I spent the next twenty minutes watching them go about their business. The babblers were building a nest and were busy collecting nesting material. The Bulbuls were just hanging out in pairs mostly. And I also spotted a Scimitar (my first sighting). The White Cheeked Barbets were singing away a heart-wrenching love song... Moral of the story: take a break and don't run after them. Walk down and relax.

The equipment does/does not matter

Sigh! Just when I was convinced that my 70-300 'G' was why I was shooting crappy pictures, I found someone posting great pictures shot with that same lens! Though it is natural to run to Jayesh and buy that 300 mm F 2.8, in my opinion, every aspiring photographer should start with a point and shoot 35mm film camera. And they should upgrade only when they are sure that their fundamentals are strong as required. I know people that own SLRs (for years!) and can't tell aperture from apricot. I'd say start with the basic camera. Learn making pictures with it and then, you can conquer the world with your 300... no 600 mm F 4. It is a hard fact to digest I know. I used my Sony 4.5 mega pixel point-and-shoot for a long time and actually got some good pics with it. In fact I became interested in photography only after I got me self a point-and-shoot. The equipment matters, but only when you are clear about what you want from life. You don't need a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. And, a toothpick is not a replacement for your dentist. Now that I am done with my metaphors and similes... find purpose, equipment will follow.

A backyard in hand is worth two Ranganthittus in your dreams

When I got my SLR (complete with the powerful 18-70mm kit lens), I went straight to Ranganthittu to shoot pictures. I failed to notice that the exposure compensation was +7 or something like that!! I did not even know where my focus was! I was just clicking away from that boat. And I had a smirk whenever I saw those normal humans with their point-and-shoots... Anyway, I finished my adventure at Ranganthittu and was reaching Bangalore when my 70 year old dad called from Chennai.
'I went for a 'shoot'' I told him.
He grunted and asked 'shoot what?'
I said 'Birds dad. Painted storks, Pelica...'
and he cut me in half with 'Why? are there no birds in your neighborhood?'

Now a days I go sit in the private park that belongs to our apartment complex and spot the sunbirds, flowerpeckers, and Ashy Priniass every day. Every single day. Sometimes I manage a White Cheeked Barbet. A few weeks back it'd rained on a warm Sunday afternoon. After it stopped raining, I went down to the park on an instinct. I spotted six Asian Koels. I also spotted a Barn Owl in the nights. Since I am ending all my gyan with a punch line, let me do an encore here. Frame the Prinia. The flycatcher will follow. Or, better still, if you can't play in your backyard don't go to the stadium... :-)

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Aandal Part 2

Read the first part

It was a Sunday afternoon and Aandal was squatting outside our grand ma's. She was telling my granny about this mentally challenged kid in one of the homes on Alwarpet street. She was talking about how that kid was always screaming for food. "Maami andha payyan eppo paaru bun kaapi bun kaapi nu Katheenu irukkum" (that kid screams bun n coffee bun n coffee all the time). So Suren started imitating her and she lost her temper. "Ayyy chinnadhu, Koluppaa? Pichi puduven!" (something to the effect hey you small one watch it!).

Now in all the years and all the maids that passed through our home no one has ever dared to mock us. It was us! Suren and I! Whatever hesitation we had about ragging Aandal was blown away and we stretched and cracked our knuckles, sighed, and said 'here we go!'

The next day Suren proposed to Aandal. "Aandal I - I love you... will you scrub my back?" She laughed baring her remaining, tobacco stained teeth. She was illiterate but who doesn't understand 'I love you' ? She referred to 'Love' as 'Labzu' and she complained to my mom "Maami idha paaru maami Chinnadhu Labzu pannudhu!' (Maami, see your younger son is doing 'Labzu')

Aandal worked in many homes in Alwarpet street and she was on a tight schedule every day. So she could ill afford any delays. We knew it and exploited it. When she came in the mornings to do the dishes and mop the house, Suren took his own time in the shower. Aandal started with gentle knocks on the bathroom door but she realised she was dealing with assholes, so the gentle knocks became explosive thumps, which were always echoed by Suren's devilish laughter.

When we bumped into her on the street, we always blew kisses and she would spit on the ground and mutter some unprintable stuff. Within a few months Aandal was quite famous among the boys, the shopkeepers in the neighbourhood, and the jobless adults that hung about the street.

I vividly remember Aandal giving one of those guys her piece of mind.
As she was walking by to 'Bhai's' provision store, the gang of boys sitting outside the store went 'hoo hooo Aandal I love you!' Aandal stopped in her tracks, surveyed the gang and picked one guy and said 'Thevdyaa payya, Why don't you go do labzu to your mother? I will chop it off!' A roar of laughter erupted and Aandal's voice became shrill as she started abusing that guy, but now she included his aunts, grand mom, uncles, wife... she also asked him 'dey! do you know who fathered you? I bet your mom doesn't know too...go fuck a dog!'

She never used such choicest abuses on us. She loved us I think and she knew we were harmless. She became quite a friend to my grand ma, probably because they were of the same age. When Suren made fun of my granny he attracted Aandal's attention too.

The days chugged on and Aandal got used to the ass holes that we were. Actually when Suren or me went out of town and were missing, Aandal gave us a rousing welcome when we returned. 'Take off your Saagunu! And put if for wash... take bath and eat... you need rest!' (Saagunu meant socks in Aandalese).

She hated the girl friends that visited home. Especially those that wore shorts. "Ayyyaaa! Ennaadhu idhu! Payyanaa ponnaa!? Ippidi thodaya kaattudhu!" ("Is this a guy or girl? And why is she exposing her thighs like this?")

But she hated drunks. She got extra ballistic on any drunk that crossed her path, including Ginny, my uncle. [...to be contd]

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