Track: Want Me; Artists: Suman and Kicha; Released: 02/2001

Download the song 'Want me'. (RIght-click>Save Target as to save it to your disk)
2001 February. Her birthday was about a week away. I decided to gift her a song again (like I did in 2000). So Kicha -the guitar great- and I sat down. We wanted to do a catchy rock number this time. So, I wrote the lyrics based on a signature that was running in my head. So, Kicha and I sat on the terrace of his apartment complex one fine, balmy evening; with some Old Monk rum and lots of smokes. Kicha came up with at least ten structures for the song, but we weren't too happy and I said 'I want something like Bryan Adams 'Run to you' ... That kinda feel.' After some time Kicha came up with the structure; the rhythm was Run to you's but played reverse.
We chose a Friday and we went to work at Ashok Cherian's Sound Suite. The problem was I can only sing, and I can't take high pitches; I mean I am not a singer in the first place and by then I knew that Chithu would tolerate my eccentricities and actually listen to the music. So my objective was not to sound like a rock star but just go ahead and have fun doing what we did.
And Kicha insisted on getting a Keyboard. So, I borrowed it from Shankar -my neighbor and keyboard guru. I went to work while Kicha sat in SoundSuite arranging and feeding the Keyboard tracks (drums, piano and strings). He also had worked out the lead by then (two lead riffs).
S0, all I had to do was get my butt from work to SoundSuite and sing. When I reached SoundSuite, the track was almost ready but for my voice. I started warming up with some beer and started singing 'monitors'. I was goofing up badly on timing and pitch. I was so fed up and I had finished almost three beers (one beer = 650ml. Mary and Linnea.) I was high and I smoked up too. I was in the 'zone' by then. I was beyond caring about my voice and all. I still couldn't hit the higher pitches and Kicha had had enough. He said he'd do the refrain; and me? Only the verse.
We did the song and as it turned out it came out better than what we had expected and she was thrilled with her gift. (baby if you are reading this: I just may do another number for us ;) pro'lly a wedding song?)
Download the song 'Want me'. (Right-click>Save Target as to save it to your disk)
The song is free for personal use. If you're playing it in your party, give credit and some beer too please. If you hated the song, well, sorry buddy but free lunches never taste good. ;-)
As for the artistes: the band is still around (Like the Eagles said in their Hell Freezes Over concert: 'For the record, we never broke up. We just took a long vacation.'
Kicha and I are planning to do a Wedding Version of ">'Stay' - the first song that I made for her.
Kicha works in Hyderabad now. He is a proud father of two kids. He has a beer belly and the Hippos in the zoo think he is one of them. Ok, no, that was a joke. He is not married but is having a lot of fun in Hyderabad. Otha dey Perumaal pesudaa (Personal message in Tamil -my Mother tongue to Kicha).
Thank you lord. I have such wonderful friends who put up with all the shit that I dish out.
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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The Pros and Cons of using Public Internet Cafe (via Ejaz)

Back in 1998-99 I was hooked to Cybercafes in Chennai (South-India) big time. I didn't have my own PC then. I can write a book on some of the things I had witnessed in Cybercafes but for now, check this out:
this guy working at the Cybercafe chatted with a guy under the guise of a college girl. The guy -from Anna nagar, a place that was 15km from the Cybercafe- insisted on seeing a picture. So, our Cybercafe guy searched the net and found a Pakistani actor's picture and sent it to the guy from Anna nagar. Our man falls in love with the college girl.
The Cybercafe guy in the due course started playing pranks like asking the lover boy to go to a place outside the city and wait ('I'll meet you at 5 but wait until 6' etc). Somehow lover boy found out where his love was chatting from. He landed up one afternoon and starts asking the Cybercafe girl 'did you see this fair, tall girl? She drives a BMW?' and I fell off my chair laughing. But looking back I think it was perverse on the Cybercafe guy's part. That aside, If you use Cybercafes read this post by Ejaz
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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My Fridge Story

I got myself a 235ltr Electrolux-Kelvinator Fridge last night! Here's a related story.
When I was a kid I was bowled over by Fridges; I come from South-India which suffers from an intense tropical climate. I know only hot, hotter and hottest. So, I was a natural sucker for anything that had anything to do with cold: snow, Air-conditioners, Fridges, winters, fog... You name it.
Until I was ten I had never seen a Fridge from close quarters. I know this concept is indigestible for readers from USA or Europe. But, yes, that's how it was. In 1983 my aunt invited my brother and me over to Hyderabad for the summer holiday. Of all the things that their opulent home had to offer (opulence is relative my friend), I was smitten by the -you guessed it right- the fridge. I used to make ice and wonder at the magic that was: pour water, come back after half hour, and take your ice-cubes and slip a few in your shirt. Perverse as it may sound, I loved to dump a few ice-cubes in my shirt and roll on the floor. But the Fridge became a dream when I screwed up big time with my Grand pa's teeth. I took a Mango fruit and kept it in the freezer for like an hour. I took it out after an hour only to find it frozen rock-hard. So, I left it in the vegetables tray and went off to take a shower. I came back from my shower and opened the Fridge only to find my frozen Mango missing. I made an abrupt U-turn, fuming under the assumption that my brother had stolen the Mango, and I screeched on my brakes near the dining table: my grand pa had the fruit in his both hands and he was about to sink his dilapidated teeth into the rock-hard, frozen Mango. I was stunned by god's weird sense of humor and before I could shrug off my astonishment and save the fruit, I mean, my grand pa... It was too late. His teeth fought valiantly with the frozen Mango and the evil Mango sent some shooting pain up his teeth. He started screaming. 'Which fucking devil's son would freeze a fucking Mango! fucking nuts!' and his stare rested on me. His eyes from their deep-socket dwelling burnt a hole through me. Of course now he knew which **edited for profanity** would freeze a Mango. My aunt, when she heard the story, strictly told that the Fridge was off-limits for me from then on. So, thus ended my first encounter with a Fridge. When I left Hyderabad, I longed to meet the Fridge and hang-out with it for a few moments... But fate would have none of it. Neither my aunt. It was a tearful parting. I mean I would have loved to experiment more on the Fridge. Lock up one of the cats in it, or maybe, open up the Compressor to see how it worked... But luckily or unluckily (depends on who is saying it) that was not to be.
I swore to myself that I would buy a better Fridge than that. My folks did buy one later on. But then I was now bent on buying my own.
The dream partially came true a few months back when I was in Indore. Sudheep my good friend wanted to sell his old Fridge to buy a new one. He quoted 3000 Rupees and I nodded 'yes' until my neck broke. And so it arrived one fine Sunday night. It looked like it belonged to Aurangazeb or probably King Henry. It badly needed a fresh coat of paint. I told myself, 'what do you expect for 3000?' The answer came after I plugged it to the electrical socket; a **edited for profanity** Silencer was all it needed. It wheezed like a naked, asthmatic, old man atop K2. It was spooky too. It would wheeze on and suddenly stop, and the whole Fridge would rattle, as if the old man was shrugging off the snow. 'Digy Digy Digy Dittt!' it would stop. And I would stop whatever i was doing and watch it and heave a sigh of relief. And at the most unexpected moment, it would start its wheezing again; it was like getting a slap from my smart dad: he'd raise his right palm and while I was staring at the right palm and ducking in horror, he'd slap me with the left; more than the pain, it was the humiliation of being cheated that hurt me the most. Anyway, I was looking for my good friend Sudheep, and strangely, he was on vacation. If I had had met him, I'd have celebrated my 30th birthday in jail. But yea, anyway. Grrrr! I never used the Fridge, I mean its noises were kind of not worth say, chilling a beer or ice-cream? The noise would turn a saint to a psychotic killer. Sudheep where the hell are you man?
I left Indore last October and gave the Fridge to my friend Nags - for free. And I moved to Pune. I moved on and now I have a brand new Fridge. But Nag's has lost the capacity of maintaining a coherent conversation. He now makes strange noises, like a 100 year old Fridge wheezing.

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Voilence on Women

"A Saudi television presenter who was beaten unconscious by her husband has allowed pictures of her severely battered face to be published in an attempt to highlight the abuse of women in the kingdom.

Rania al-Baz, who works for Saudi Arabia's state television's Channel One, is having a series of operations for 13 fractures to her face. She said she wanted to break the taboo on domestic violence.

"I want to use what happened to me to draw attention to the plight of women in Saudi Arabia," she added. " (Via Ejaz)
The originalSource.

My take
Ejaz, it is not just just Muslim countries, it happens all over the world; but yea it is especially ugly in India and Pakistan. Women in cities may not go through so much, but the plight of rural women never comes to light, for they'd never dare to reveal the atrocities dished out to them in the name of family pride. I used to think that illiteracy is what makes a husband into an animal that abuses and hurts his wife; I am wrong. Domestic voilence is prevalent in developed countries like USA, UK, Canada and more.

I did a quick search on voilence on women and I found this:
In parts of Papua New Guinea, 67 per cent of women are victims of marital violence.

In Bangladesh, half of the 170 reported cases of women murdered between 1983 and 1985 took place within the confines of the family.

In the United States, a woman is beaten every 18 minutes; between 3 million and 4 million are battered each year, but only 1 in 100 cases of domestic violence is ever reported.

In Columbia, about 20 per cent of the patients in a Bogota hospital were victims of marital violence.

In India, five women are burned in dowry-related disputes each day, according to the official figures, although the number estimated by activist groups is much higher.

In the United Kingdom, one in three families is a victim of assault and one in five a victim of serious assault, according to a recent report by the Home Office.

In Austria, in 59 per cent of 1,500 divorce cases, domestic violence was cited as a cause in the marital breakdown.
(Source: WomenAid)

I also found this...
Every 26 minutes, a woman is molested;
Every 34 minutes, a rape takes place;
Every 42 minutes, sexual harassment incident occurs;
Every 43 minutes, a woman is kidnapped; and
Every 93 minutes, a woman is burnt to death over dowry.
(The above stats are for India and the source is Legal Pundits.

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A picture of me

My colleagues think I am obsessed with my own self. I don't know how far it is true, ladies and gentlemen, let me present you a picture of me taken by Shamdat - my friend (where the hell are you Shamdat?), and assistant camerman to Ravi K Chandran (cinematographer of Dil Chahta Hai).
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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Elections India: Look ma! Suniel Shetty!!

I was sitting in Chandrama having a drink and waiting for my dinner. Parihar Chowk in Aundh, Pune was chaos. A Congress election campaign was on; they occupied the intersection causing major inconvenience to people getting back home. And they forget that they are on the mic. They kept yelling insults at the opposition BJP. Not many people were present at the meeting though. I was irritated that my peace was being violated by these people.
The speaker announced that actor Suniel Shetty would appear in a few minutes. '10 lakhs. He took 10 lakhs to do that,' my room mate said.If that's true, I am taking up acting lessons - actually, I don't have to; who needs acting talent to get into Bollywood?
And suddenly all hell broke loose. The whole intersection was flooded by people. Suniel Shetty vroomed in to the meeting, got on stage, mouthed something, and he was gone. A few minutes later the place was deserted.
I hope people don't vote because Suniel Shetty was there. I pray people use their brains. God help my country.
A note to all politicians: Please don't scream into the mic. The mic's job is to convert your normal decibel level into a scream. And, being louder doesn't mean you are making a point. Please don't scream.
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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Laxmipathy Balaji and the Lahore girls.

I like this guy Balaji not just for his talents as a swing bowler; he has a sense of humor and does not take himself too seriously unlike others in the team (like Ganguly, and the new captain of the women's team, Tendulkar).
An excerpt from Ejaj's post:

Where on earth would Balaji be happier than surrounded by excited Lahori girls? He later confirmed that, "I don't know why and how but I have never been welcomed like this ever. May be it's because of my color (giggles)"

Read Ejaj's (my friend, fellow blogger from Karachi) take on Balaji's visit to Lahore University of Management Sciences.
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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Some Pictures from Denver

• Flat Irons Mall


• The Mountains


• The Mountains again


• The Mountains yet again


• The Pearl St Mall


• My Hotel - Fairfield Inn

Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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Ab Thak Chappan (56 and counting - meaning for the benefit of my fans from abroad :-D ): Movie Review

I am fast losing respect for Ram Gopal Verma. Movies from his stable now are stale, unimaginative and at times stupid. Let me come to the review of Ab Thak; as you all know it is based on (or at least 'inspired by') Daya Nayak: a Mumbai cop that hit headlines by shooting gangsters by the dozen. The director focused too much on style and lost out on content. And in the process he must have gotten confused and he goofed up on screenplay and characterization.
The hero of the movie Sadhu (played by Nana Patekar) mouths profanity on the phone in front of his wife and school-going son. Now, the wife (played by Revathy) just ignores it. Any mom would have asked her husband to shut up and not use foul language in the house. You know, when you notice such things your respect for the movie and its makers melts like the snow in the sun.
The murder of a corporator remains unexplained, or I was too dumb to grasp the concept; either ways it was negative points for the movie.
Coming back to characters, Sadhu -who comes across as a forthright, ruthless, but honest cop- suddenly exhibits shades of villainy. Or so it seems. I mean hey, he was a nice guy about 45 minutes back, and now you want to convince me that he is also corrupt and would not mind exploiting the system. Sorry, but that was kind of amateurish.
the story of the movie is that it has no story; I don't mind that actually, as long as you keep me glued to my seat. John Woo does that to me. But here, in Ab Thak Chappan, these guys just wanted to show-off I guess. They claim to have done some research but I don't think they hardly ever used their research. When a movie starts, it should make a promise to the audience: 'I am gonna scare you.' 'I am gonna make you cry.' 'I am gonna make you fall in love.' or 'I am gonna make you laugh'; most movies make promises, but very few keep them. Ab Thak did not keep its promise. So, if you were thinking of watching it, don't. Let Ram Gopal Verma come back to earth. Let him realize that his so called 'method' is not actually a method, but a delusion. Let him write impositions ('I won't bore viewers' a million times) and blog it some where. And then, maybe, I'll ask you to go to movies from the so called 'Verma' stable. When will we ever learn how to write screenplays! Gone are the days of Sholay! Hmm!
Hey, did you ask 'what the hell's the movie about' ? Okay, I give it to you. Tough cop is screwed by system. He tries to screw back.
Come on Verma! That's all you need to make movies. Take Rangeela: Ordinary girl becomes super star! That's how you make a start. Get back to basics Verma; man I used to love your movies!
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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Psycho Mom: Denver Blues Part-2

(Please read the Part-1 Denver Fever if you haven't already)
We went to the Denver Zoo some where in the afternoon. A Polar bear cub stole my heart there: it would pick up its toy - a huge plastic can - and throw it in the pond. And would dive after it, wiggling its enormous posterior (I am trying to be politically correct, else, I would have written 'huge butt'. Whatever.) And spraying a zillion drops of water into the air. It'd catch the plastic can, bring it back to the shore and repeat the whole thing all over again.

It was sad too in a way; I mean the bear cub belonged to the icy wilderness of the North Pole. The next most stunning animal -at east to me - was the Siberian Tiger. Though smaller than the Royal Bengal Tiger from India, it looked 'royal' enough to me.

We drifted along and suddenly we -Linnea, Mary, Abhijeet, and I- found ourselves in a deserted part of the zoo. Darkness was fast eating up the Sun, and we were staring at the magnificent Bald Eagle. And a woman appears seemingly out of no where. She had with her a boy who looked tired and yet at the peak of his mischief. She looked exhausted. Her eyes had an eerie shine; like that of a Bald Eagle that just found a sleeping Rabbit. The son was probably around five and reminded me of Dennis the menace.

'I lost one of my batteries in the Camera, could you please take a picture of us?' she said. God knows how one can lose only a single battery-cell. Linnea took the picture and even offered to mail a copy of the picture to her and was all set to note down the woman's address, when the woman started giving her life story. Divorced. Single mom. All right. And she said, 'I never realized I was pregnant until my seventh month.' and laughed. And the kid started babbling something, for a moment I thought I was hearing things, but the second time I was sure: the kid was going F***, F***, F*** and S***, S***, S***, S***.

That was an overdose of craziness even by my standards. I mean hey what kind of a woman would never realize that she was pregnant until the seventh freaking month! Probably an Alien mom. And it was obvious where the kid was doing his PhD in profanity. He made me feel like a three year old. Man, that kid has got some vocabulary.

The psycho mom said, "I run a Manicure center you all can drop in and I will give you a discount' or something like that and started off on how ethical she was and how she never would cheat her clients. Her son shifted gears and moved into cruise mode; he started calling me names. The psycho mom feigns exasperation and warns the kid. "I don't know where he learnt all that...but I love him." She said and the kid looked at me and said something that I can't print here.

By that time the Red bulb started flashing in my head. Weird thoughts started floating in my head; her laugh started sounding scarier. It had that high-octave edge to it. Or maybe I was imagining things. But we knew we had to get out. To be contd... Also read my earlier post Denver Fever
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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The Washington Post: Alternate meanings

The Washington Post publishes a contest for readers in which they are asked to supply alternate meanings for various words.  The following were some of the winning entries:

1. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.


2. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.


3. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.


4. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.


5. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightie.


6. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.


7. Gargoyle (n.), an olive flavoured mouthwash.


8. Bustard (n.), a rude bus driver.


9. Coffee (n.), a person who is coughed upon


10. Flatulence (n.), an emergency vehicle that picks you up if you've been run over by a steamroller.


11. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.


12. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.


13. Semantics (n.), pranks conducted by young men studying for the priesthood.


14. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified demeanor assumed by a proctologist immediately before he examines you.


15. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddish expressions.


16. Circumvent (n.), the opening in the front of boxer shorts.


17. Frisbatarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck
    there

The Washington Posts Style Invitational also asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing one letter, and supply a new definition:

1. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the reader who doesn't get it.


2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.


3. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of
   obtaining sex.


4. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously.


5. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.


6. Karmageddon: End of the world due to a build up of bad-vibes.


7. Glibido: All talk and no action.


8. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.


9. Intaxication: Euphoria at receiving a tax refund, which lasts until you realise it was your money to start with.


10. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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