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If you haven’t yet, you need to read this wonderful series by ACK Comics on the Mahabharata and other allied epics. There, that’s my good deed for the day. I will now go and morally corrupt the world.
Posted on July 7th, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Funny | 3 Comments »
The world and its father has already written about Raavan and Ravanan. I’ve seen the former, and as far as I am concerned, that was rather enough for me.
For starters, never mind the parallels with the Ramayana. What Indian cinema storyline doesn’t involve some shadowy version of one of the epics? And the elements that are supposed to reflect the epic, are bloody obvious in the story. Right down to Surpanakha’s nose pinching. I just found myself wishing that this film was called Beera, or Jungle, or even something pointless like Jalwa. Because the need to keep beat to the epic actually held the film back. The dialogues became more laboured, attempting to drop hints. At every point, Mani wanted you to spot these ‘touches’, and say ‘See, see, it’s like the Ramayana’.
(Honestly, will Luv and Kush make an appearance in a sequel?)
Aishwariya is gorgeous. To anyone who groans about her ageing. Err.. Everyone does. Where on earth does it say that the heroine has to be fresh-faced and 19 years old? But she is so ethereal looking all the time, that you never see her dark side. You see her brave side, her confused side. But there is no darkness to her at all. Of all the characters dissected in the Ramayana – where different perspectives talk of Rama being not all that virtuous and Raavan’s virtues, here was a brilliant opportunity to understand Sita.
But at no point was Sita (or Ragini) ever actually torn. She doesn’t take sides. She’s so insignificant, she’s not even a pawn. She doesn’t really have a moral compass. She isn’t really tempted. Even her compassion is rehearsed.
On that note – if ever there was an interpretation of Sita that was brilliant and challenging, it’s Nina Paley’s Sitayana.
I have always loved Mani Ratnam’s films. I didn’t hate this one. I didn’t love it either. I was just bored. With every twist in Hanuman’s sagging tail becoming bloody obvious. The film didn’t move me, which is generally what I associate with Mani’s films. To be moved. To have something tug at your feelings.
Visual feast is maybe, but the film left my heart hungry. And what good is that?
Posted on June 23rd, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Music, Film and Art | 7 Comments »
Wanting to write something is somewhat like nausea. You feel slightly disoriented till it’s out. And since there is no such urge, I don’t write often enough.
But life has actually been rather vibrant in some ways. A visit to the lovely sandy beaches in the South West early this month was the perfect way to start summer.
When I first got to England, the pebbly beaches in the South East felt a lot closer (and cheaper to get to) and that’s where I headed. But pebbles don’t make a beach. Not in my book. And that’s why walking in sand with little wavelets jumping between your toes is such pleasure. If a visit to a beach doesn’t involve an element of sinking into the sand, it’s incomplete.
But it’s no reason not to enjoy a pebbly beach should you be on one. Am still learning that. (Yes, this is all very figurative.)
I’ll go look for the writerly nausea now. About time.
Posted on May 19th, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Self | 5 Comments »
I’ve made my peace with my shoplifting (when I was eight) with the random thought “Everybody shoplifts at least once in their life”.
I stole an eraser. And no I don’t feel particularly awful about it. Felt guilty for a day or two, but the eraser was flower/ bubblegum scented. I wouldn’t do it again. I don’t know why I did it then. I was with my mother and she knew that I had enough erasers to be able to give some to my grandchildren should they need it.
Plus, it was so easy. Pudgy hand of a child gliding over the counter, and picking up a blob of pink. Yes, yes I know that if every child in the 1km radius of the shop had done the same thing, the shop would close and the shopkeeper would be in trouble.
At that age though, it was a curious mix of guilt, elation and bewilderment. How do I use the eraser without letting my mother notice it? That ended my brief encounter with shoplifting. Happy to say I haven’t swiped anything else after that, and don’t ever plan on doing it.
Ever shoplifted? Items? Technique?
PS – Notice how I don’t use the word ‘steal’, when in fact it was just that.
Posted on April 27th, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Self | 17 Comments »
I went for this concert yesterday – London Philharmonic Orchestra performing some of A R Rahman’s “best-known” works.
Writing about the concert last evening is hard. I knew that this was not going to be a traditional filmy fare. But my expectations had gone up because I had been to a wonderful concert at the same venue in October last year that featured the City of Birmingham Orchestra and Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. I can’t find any official videos anywhere – but a member of the audience filmed some.
The crowd connected instantly. Yes, there were moments when you felt that the very constructed approach the orchestra took actually stopped Rahat from improvising, but overall, it was a joyous concert. The second half really picked up.
Contrast this to the AR Rahman concert where most of the material was meant for a very different audience. The concert was sold to the desis by plastering AR Rahman’s name and stating that the orchestra would play some of his best-known numbers. Except most of the material felt alien and new. There was some from that Chinese film, the broadway show and a few other numbers. The familiar stuff was just a themes – Roja, Bombay, Swades and Taal. And the audience visibly perked up during those numbers.
It’s not to say that there isn’t any room for anything different, or that an Indian audience is incapable of digesting an orchestral performance. Far from it. But people bought tickets expecting more familiar tunes.
The unfamiliar tunes didn’t sound particularly fantastic either. Slightly pale in comparison to the rich harmonies of the usual Rahman fare. The choir did alright, but there was some woman who sang (and sounded like she was wailing) in a few pieces. Contrast this to some brilliant stuff Ilayaraja has done – like How to Name It, which uses an orchestra as well, but retains Ilayaraja’s signature style. Doesn’t alienate, and potentially draws an audience unused to orchestral music into its fold.
The London Philharmonic Orchestra does brilliant interpretations. For instance, this one is of http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gffPKepztS8 Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd. But the interpretation yesterday felt watery. Two and a half hours into the concert I left. A big part of me felt like this was for the phantom elite firang to make Rahman more acceptable to the ‘Western World’ – or whatever that means.
More than just disappointed, I was bored. Which is just sad.
Posted on April 8th, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Music, Film and Art | 4 Comments »
What a wonderful way to kill time. Found this lovely blog called Advertising for Love via Marginal Revolution.
Incredible stuff. Yes, why indeed do people send out missives to others when the chance of being read is so low?
Posted on March 19th, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Random Links | 4 Comments »
I have a mixed relationship with cooking. On some days, I feel like embarking on something adventurous, and on other days, I can’t be bothered with it and I’d rather eat raw carrots. I think some of my cooking sensibility comes from just having observed the women in my family. What goes together, what doesn’t and the like.
I had a sudden desire to eat thenkuzhal today. I’ve seen my mother make it a million times. Back in the day when eating something fried wasn’t quite the sin it has become now. Think my mother made a full spectrum of things and was quite sane in her advice – eat everything in moderation. As a 19 year old, I ignored it, and binged on fried fiends, but I find my own cooking quite reflective of her style. Minimum oil, most things slightly steamed, no overkill with every damn spice in the shelf, never really over-cooked and everyday meals that don’t involve back-breaking effort (mostly).
So anyhow, back to the sins of thenkuzhal. While poking my nose about online I discovered this wonderful maama-maami combo who make these wonderful videos from their kitchen in Srirangam. There’s something about their unassuming style of conversation (all in Tamil), their utensils, the arranged chaos that screams home to me.
For instance take a look at this – one of the videos for making Morkozhambu.
The videos aren’t edited or jazzy. You never quite see their faces, just maami’s busy (and magically effortless) hands, and her responses to maama’s various doubts and questions. Thanks maama-maami – you made someone very happy today.
Posted on March 17th, 2010 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Food and Gastronomy, India | 11 Comments »
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