red and white

there is nothing like a well made theratipaagu... made on a wood fueled stove. imagine the heat, on top of the madras heat. and you boil freshly... is extracted the right word? the cow never gave us the permission, did it? so fresh milk it is.. boiled over hours.. being slowly stirred all the time.. lest it should leave a taste of fire in it.. and after 5 litres of milk, it comes down to a small ball of pure white moon like thing..on a green plantain leaf.. shining in ghee and melted sugar.. no its not that sweet.. just the pure taste of milk, given the correct amount of escalated sweetness..and 4 hours of work from a diabetic 60 year old paati.. and you will finish it in exactly 40 seconds.. when its hot.. and easy to just swallow..

there is nothing like a well made kajar halwa..carrot shredded to the right thickness, so that you know its own big heap.. but its thin nonetheless..and then cooked in freshly minted milk.. now wait.. can milk be minty? i mean like always . imagine cows eating only mint leaves.. podra bussiness planna.. rightu.. the fresh milk and carrot cooking in it.. and at the exact time you drain the excess milk. all the time watching it, braving this cruel 2 degree gurgaon cold..the carrots are cooked so that they look like rice.. but they are softer.. and sweeter.. extreme sweetness.. but a neutralizing agent of mawa, which has now lost its raw annoying smell..and all these held together by the just the right amount of desi ghee.. and of course nuts.. and thats another 4 hours..and hot, easy to swallow food..

maybe its not all that different?



this time when i was returning from chennai by train, we had a 27 year old bengali ponnu who was doing some research and a sardar with us.. now this girl got on the train and slept.. slept all the 40 hours through to delhi.. but our sardar made sure she had to wake up atleast once.. first he snores like a.. like a..helicopter taking off.. audible above the beat of the train.. on the track.. with the leaking windows acting as wind instruments..and this fellow snores.. i feel so sorry for his wife.. btw can you search matrimony websites, filtering out people who snore? i wish we could filter room mates based on that.. anyways bad bad snoring.. and then at 4am he played some punjabi devotional songs.. from his walkman.. in full sound.. fucking woke everyone up.. then the bengali girl woke and first scolded him in bengali.. and then hindi.. and the sardar switched it off.. next day when i woke up i coudlnt find my slipper.. slipper lost in the sleeper.. tcha kavidhai.. kavidhai..

i still cant understand how cloud atlas dint even get near the Chinese factory where the Oscars things are made. it is way too awesome, just because of doing so well with such a complex concept. and less miserable was well, less miserable. on first watch. but i loved it the second time i watched it. and that pichakari lady who gets shot, she is tharmar jingli. but sadly in other photos outside the movie shes attu. that reminds me of every other girl i see on facebook.  anyways both movies had awesome music, but of course no where near what Yann Tiersen did. how can anyone be that much genius like he is, total thalai-var only..

how hard is it, if you just keep travelling.. like with no home.. just a bag.. basics.. you cant be robbed.. or so i presume so... now thats dangerous because the idea is to set out to know what desperate is.. travel along.. wash cups at corner tea shack.. make ten rubees and take the bus to the next location.. and shoot.. shoot a lot of people.. you might need a 300 wala lens.. and thats it.. no plans.. just set out.. fix the period you are going to come back for the first time.. lets says pongal'14.. start where you last left off.. it was in erudapetta.. kerala-tn border.. that blissful place.. where road side waterfalls and pope-sanctioned saint churches were common.. where the house was big and had 2 streams of clear water converging in the back yard. a garden which yielded rubber primarily and hence life.. then there was the pineapple, jackfruit, cocoa, coffee and cardamom plants... and honey combs.. and coconuts, loads of it.. the pineapple's ancestors were buried in the earth beneath... pineapple wine for christmas.. the rest of it all comes together beautifully, to make up 2 breakfasts. one when you wake up, the other after you finish your 3 hour swim and come back all hungry..and the feeling of being silently carried away by the gentle stream.. noiselessly.. it was like rajalakshmi said- pin drop silence, finger on the lip.. that much silence.. that much awesome..

and its free!!! i loved that trip... the last trip before i was called back to hell by my respected current employers.. actually its not their fault, just that corporation culture and me dont get along well.. infact we might need to be pulled apart at times.. but then like any hungry husband who goes back to his laptop for more porn, i need to get back and get my salary..but like sendhil thalai told me in my dreams, infarmasion is velthu.. you should know where to beg, other wise you are a normal beggar.. i mean how awesome it will be if you are THE best at something? like being the best beggar in india.. ok thats tough competition , lets say madras..right thats also too much, considering harris jeyaraj lives there.. what about say, mylapore.. no that is the harvad of respectable pichakara thanam.. but i might have to reconsider, when my mind goes to t nagar, west mambalam .. the t stands for thanni.. the h2o thanni.. thats the only thing which gets offered in that area.. but you have to understand, water is the most precious commodity there.. i still remember that moment when i first used a west mambalam kakoosee..in  my pati's house in west mambalam.. it was in a street called baroda street.. i never understood what baroda has to do with west mambazham..and the road was narrow.. and considering the people there, it should be called buruda street.. anyways i was 7 or 8 years old.. i went through my ritual and when i opened the tap..aaragha.. the tap infact farted.. now this was the first time i have seen this miracle, i was then in pondi.. and in pondi every one had so much water that they used to use yelaneer to make lemon juice..i was astonished when they told me that the moving railways toilet and the stationery west mamablam where one at the same.. later after seeing those numerous housing units, where all you had was a hall. common room and a small kitchen.. and a common bothroom.. i guess west mambalam is infact the indian railways.. imagine if west mambalam people can book for water bottles through irctc only.. or infact book viswaroopam tickets through that only.. no moon ki ban.. ban the un..



Start wearing purple wearing purple
Start wearing purple, for me now
All your sanity and wits, they will all vanish
I promise, it's just a matter of time


And so to know thyself is only possible through the eyes of the other. The nature of our immortal lives is in the consequences of our words and deeds, that go on and are pushing themselves throughout all time.


Dubbu stepu

there is this beauty with ratatouille, that anyway one can cook. even a mouse. and now with a mouse, we can make music. apparently. anyone can make music, thats what dub step seems to be telling me. But, what we have chosen to do with, is entirely another thing. We have started to use the sound of all things around us. No, not the audible everyday sounds. but the inaudible sound, of all this data being exchanged, almost magically. wireless..and its actually using the waves around us! and thus we have chosen to interpret this sound. the sound of engineering. inaudible, it has been given form. a feel. the sheer beauty of industrial sound. and the beauty, anyone can do it. yes most of them are shitty, but you can still compose. most of you can not compose a carnatic song. but we can dub..its been made so easy, its astonishing.. revolutions are instigated by corner table conversations.. and now its made from behind desktop.. the true industrial revolution, blending with everyday lives..and the sound of it being music to our ears.. the beauty of it is not in the quality, but the quantity..