Sunday, May 29, 2005
life... sleep... and death.
can i live as peacefully as i sleep?
can i sleep as peacfully as people die?
written a long, long, long time ago - maybe about 5 to 6 years...
Monday, May 23, 2005
Life is beautiful.
My Credits: Meera’s lists
The distant church chimes, the day’s first tune that you hum, the locked hair in between a hook, the pink tint on the clouds after a sunset, the sweet body ache after a tiring workout, trembling of the hand, the subtle hints in a budding relationship, the creak from a sheave, usefulness of an aglet, lint on washed clothes, the non-committal conversation with a long forgotten friend, the innumerous shades of green in plants and trees, the neatly trimmed coconut leaves,
a supple one year old kid, the moments after a sobbing child sleeps on your shoulder, the comfort in hugging a kid, an awe-inspiring nimble five year old child, the naïve questions of an eight year old, the shyness in an adolescent,
the soothing berceuse in an Ilayaraja’s song, the privacy provided by the headphones, the distinct clarity in the guitar tunes, the mellifluent music from a saxophone, the continuity in flute melodies, the divinity attached to a veenai, the tremor produced by the thumping of drums, the impulsive hum of the next song in your favorite play list,
the million questions after an eerie dream, aroma from the first jasmine flower in the garden, the fine early morning dew on a parked vehicle, the reverberations from a speeding bus felt by the foot, water sprinkled on hot tiles,
the crispness of starched cotton, water droplets on an unused dress, the coziness in a thoroughly used cotton saree, the hand that tries to grip the elusive satin, the firm grip of your terrified friend, the solace of a good friend, unkempt hair after a hair wash, the reminiscences arising after finding a long-forgotten written memoirs of a train trip, the dry dead leaf placed in a book that brings to life the memories related to it,
the hum that arises after hitting a half-filled metal container, the lull after placing your hand on the vessel, agility of water, firmness of ice, the thinness of watermelon juice, the thickness of mango milkshake, the quick moving beach sands under your feet, the hardness of the rocks on a hill,
the neatly arranged toes of the foot, a pen that makes your handwriting legible, the graphite that wanes, the decisiveness arising out of just a few eye glances, the rocking of a train, the straining conversations exchanged on a speeding two wheeler, validating a stranger’s lip movement to the song played in the bus, the rubble from a freshly laid tar road that hits your mudguard,
the discreetness in a mason while mixing cement, sand and water, splitting of bricks with his instrument, the pleasure in curing a constructed wall, the scent and the sound arising while curing, the neatly arranged scaffolds of a building, the evenness indicated by the bubble in a spirit-level, the arranging of the bricks while they are unloaded from the truck, the entire act of transferring the bricks stone by stone,
the serenity of early mornings, the hurried breakfast, the briskness in the later hours of a morning, the essential lunch after starvation, the lazy afternoons, the vibrant evenings, the detached dinner, the peaceful sleep.
The distant church chimes, the day’s first tune that you hum, the locked hair in between a hook, the pink tint on the clouds after a sunset, the sweet body ache after a tiring workout, trembling of the hand, the subtle hints in a budding relationship, the creak from a sheave, usefulness of an aglet, lint on washed clothes, the non-committal conversation with a long forgotten friend, the innumerous shades of green in plants and trees, the neatly trimmed coconut leaves,
a supple one year old kid, the moments after a sobbing child sleeps on your shoulder, the comfort in hugging a kid, an awe-inspiring nimble five year old child, the naïve questions of an eight year old, the shyness in an adolescent,
the soothing berceuse in an Ilayaraja’s song, the privacy provided by the headphones, the distinct clarity in the guitar tunes, the mellifluent music from a saxophone, the continuity in flute melodies, the divinity attached to a veenai, the tremor produced by the thumping of drums, the impulsive hum of the next song in your favorite play list,
the million questions after an eerie dream, aroma from the first jasmine flower in the garden, the fine early morning dew on a parked vehicle, the reverberations from a speeding bus felt by the foot, water sprinkled on hot tiles,
the crispness of starched cotton, water droplets on an unused dress, the coziness in a thoroughly used cotton saree, the hand that tries to grip the elusive satin, the firm grip of your terrified friend, the solace of a good friend, unkempt hair after a hair wash, the reminiscences arising after finding a long-forgotten written memoirs of a train trip, the dry dead leaf placed in a book that brings to life the memories related to it,
the hum that arises after hitting a half-filled metal container, the lull after placing your hand on the vessel, agility of water, firmness of ice, the thinness of watermelon juice, the thickness of mango milkshake, the quick moving beach sands under your feet, the hardness of the rocks on a hill,
the neatly arranged toes of the foot, a pen that makes your handwriting legible, the graphite that wanes, the decisiveness arising out of just a few eye glances, the rocking of a train, the straining conversations exchanged on a speeding two wheeler, validating a stranger’s lip movement to the song played in the bus, the rubble from a freshly laid tar road that hits your mudguard,
the discreetness in a mason while mixing cement, sand and water, splitting of bricks with his instrument, the pleasure in curing a constructed wall, the scent and the sound arising while curing, the neatly arranged scaffolds of a building, the evenness indicated by the bubble in a spirit-level, the arranging of the bricks while they are unloaded from the truck, the entire act of transferring the bricks stone by stone,
the serenity of early mornings, the hurried breakfast, the briskness in the later hours of a morning, the essential lunch after starvation, the lazy afternoons, the vibrant evenings, the detached dinner, the peaceful sleep.
Monday, May 16, 2005
How does it feel...
when,
you see the crisp leaves of a checkbook that bears your name,
you just created an excellent piece of writing,
you see a pretty lady
and...
she takes a really long time to walk past you,
you lose your ear to a humorous jingle amidst cacophony,
you see a date associated with you
that stands as a proof of an enduring relationship,
you are acknowledged for an extremely brilliant joke,
you understand the intricate meaning behind a word
that you mindlessly use everyday,
you see something very simple in design
that captivates you and fills your senses,
you set tears in your friends’ eyes with your joke,
you used your discretion to avoid yourself getting into a disaster
that was threateningly appealing,
you kick a small object that you threw in the air,
in your first attempt,
you realized that you served yourself the right quantum of side dish,
you find an answer to the ‘why-me?’ in your life and
prevent it from happening to others,
you spot something that others are desperately trying to find,
after 15 years of schooling,
you tend to choose lighter shades for your work, on a Monday,
you see a distress-call mail from your friend 13 hours too late,
you look forward for the peaceful sleep, sans the nightmare
that has been stinging you for days?
Saturday, May 07, 2005
memories...
my headgear lies somewhere on top of a stand, unused and covered up with layers of dust - the smaller specks neatly and comfortably juxtaposed, among the bigger blotches...
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Making love out of nothing at all, Air Supply.
I am waiting for you, in the backyards of my house. I want it to happen again; the same way as it happened a few nights ago. Ours was not something that was planned. The tryst was destined and was forecasted by the heavens. But like all forecasts and predictions, I was as cynical as I would always be. I paced up and down for a few minutes and looked at the heavens. I had a premonition that you would be coming.
The last time it happened, it was wonderful and sublime. It was a feeling I never had experienced before. Though you didn’t give me a chance to see you last time, you did give me signs of your coming, before you came. I did pick up the signals of your arrival, like how a patient wife spots her beloved’s footsteps, amidst other tramps.
My heart was pounding and my adrenals pumping.
You neither let me speak a word last time, for you were aware that I knew you too well; true, we didn’t have to. Of all the eligible ones thriving on this earth, you chose me. You gave me the simple, priceless pleasure of being the first to experience you. Thanks for the honors. I felt liberated – liberated from the shackles of my own personal restrictions and inhibitions. That day, I did find the reason for my habitual, sleepless explorations into the wee hours. It now seems to me that the nocturnal intrusions of emptiness were designed, just for you.
I feel sad that I experienced this kind of revelation only after nearly two decades of my existence. I don’t feel ashamed on my meek surrender; I only feel happy that the wait made me realize your ruthless power to engulf my senses. I still admire and wonder the way you nonchalantly doped me but still managed to empower me.
You gave wings to my restless, struggling mind. After you had devoured me, I was floating in the air, weightless, leaving behind all the impending worries - the heavy-weight worries and the light-weight silly thoughts of mine. The worries – big, small and silly worries, that fill my senses like those big, small stones and the silt that fill a jar to completion.
Yes. I did feel you. Do you remember? A few people even gave us our due privacy, evacuating their bivouac on the terrace. They just couldn’t continue their slumber after you had come. I only felt gratified when I caught a glimpse of their envying faces after they saw your impositions on me.
Now, here I am waiting for your palpations, in the godforsaken hours of the 24-hour cycle - waiting for you to feel me, waiting to submit myself and to feel the liberation, waiting to float again. Won’t you do it again please, I beseech you, and won’t you reign me, O! Rain?
;-) Ppl!! I knew you were gonna fall for this! This is a perfect example of an anti-climax, isn’t it? Though, I still have my doubts if this is a likeable piece... anyway, hope you nsoi-ed it!!!
I would like to say a few words about the title of this post. This is an excellent song I recently happened to listen to and I just fell for ths song. A few of my blog-friends would know the extent to which I adore this song. A simply amazing song, this one, especially the place where it goes...
"But I don't know how to leave you, and I'll never let you fall;
and I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all
(Making love) out of nothing at all,...."
This song was released as a new entry in their 1983, Greatest Hits collection. Air supply, the Australian soft rock group was originated by Russell Hitchcock and Graham Russell. They became very popular in the late 70s and early 80s.
This is an amazing song and do listen to it, if you can.
And, yeah! thanks for listening for so long!!!
The last time it happened, it was wonderful and sublime. It was a feeling I never had experienced before. Though you didn’t give me a chance to see you last time, you did give me signs of your coming, before you came. I did pick up the signals of your arrival, like how a patient wife spots her beloved’s footsteps, amidst other tramps.
My heart was pounding and my adrenals pumping.
You neither let me speak a word last time, for you were aware that I knew you too well; true, we didn’t have to. Of all the eligible ones thriving on this earth, you chose me. You gave me the simple, priceless pleasure of being the first to experience you. Thanks for the honors. I felt liberated – liberated from the shackles of my own personal restrictions and inhibitions. That day, I did find the reason for my habitual, sleepless explorations into the wee hours. It now seems to me that the nocturnal intrusions of emptiness were designed, just for you.
I feel sad that I experienced this kind of revelation only after nearly two decades of my existence. I don’t feel ashamed on my meek surrender; I only feel happy that the wait made me realize your ruthless power to engulf my senses. I still admire and wonder the way you nonchalantly doped me but still managed to empower me.
You gave wings to my restless, struggling mind. After you had devoured me, I was floating in the air, weightless, leaving behind all the impending worries - the heavy-weight worries and the light-weight silly thoughts of mine. The worries – big, small and silly worries, that fill my senses like those big, small stones and the silt that fill a jar to completion.
Yes. I did feel you. Do you remember? A few people even gave us our due privacy, evacuating their bivouac on the terrace. They just couldn’t continue their slumber after you had come. I only felt gratified when I caught a glimpse of their envying faces after they saw your impositions on me.
Now, here I am waiting for your palpations, in the godforsaken hours of the 24-hour cycle - waiting for you to feel me, waiting to submit myself and to feel the liberation, waiting to float again. Won’t you do it again please, I beseech you, and won’t you reign me, O! Rain?
;-) Ppl!! I knew you were gonna fall for this! This is a perfect example of an anti-climax, isn’t it? Though, I still have my doubts if this is a likeable piece... anyway, hope you nsoi-ed it!!!
I would like to say a few words about the title of this post. This is an excellent song I recently happened to listen to and I just fell for ths song. A few of my blog-friends would know the extent to which I adore this song. A simply amazing song, this one, especially the place where it goes...
"But I don't know how to leave you, and I'll never let you fall;
and I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all
(Making love) out of nothing at all,...."
This song was released as a new entry in their 1983, Greatest Hits collection. Air supply, the Australian soft rock group was originated by Russell Hitchcock and Graham Russell. They became very popular in the late 70s and early 80s.
This is an amazing song and do listen to it, if you can.
And, yeah! thanks for listening for so long!!!
Friday, April 22, 2005
Rambling
Ppl!!! You must listen to this… the moment this happened I thought I should be blogging about this. Here I go.
Life was getting pretty heck-ed up and inertia was setting into me. Things were moving at a pretty fast pace but nothing moved me – I was like the coin in the inertia example in the physics text books. Machine-washed clothes piling up on my bed waiting to be moved into the wardrobe; maybe they would need another washing, if I let them lay there for long enough. All the bills that the shopkeeper gleefully gave me, in exchange for my money, his profit and the commodities, were inside the myriad small covers – the ICICI and ABN Amro bank covers. This along with the ATM slips were eagerly waiting for an entry in my expense tracker, like a child waiting for its share of second helping of the ice cream.
All the Frontline issues that were untouched were also piling up. If it had ears it would have felt so grateful to my mom – for having bought it and mentioning, “Why don’t you read Frontline instead of sitting like this”. My thumb having settled cozily in the narrow groove between the up and down buttons of the remote would not let me budge. The neatly arranged books were all covered with dirt, like those snow clad mountains.
I love cleaning and setting things right, except for I need goads at the right spot to set me into motion. I started with those lovely dirt clad shelf of mine. The last time I arranged this shelf was in early 2004, I guess. I kept piling sheets of papers and notepads on to it. And now, it has grown into being an untamed, recycled forest. One after another I picked them, dusted and kept them on a table that was a few feet away. Segregations and categories kept increasing - like how I add another column in a table in MS Word, after I decide that adding it would enhance the meaning of the table.
So, I have these categories: sheets that have an unused side, sheets that needed shredding – expired bank statements, missives that were never exchanged. Birthday cards, thanks cards, all-the-best cards all on to one side. Sheets that need careful examination – God only will know when I will take these up!!!
I was shuttling between my shelf and the table. I know. By now, if not for the mosaic on the floor, the path that I traced back and forth would have a rut. The rut the bullock cart left on soft earth – the arcane path that I always want to trace.
I spotted a small notepad that endured the weight of the stack all these days. It brought back memories of the train that I took to my hometown from Pune. I flipped through the pages one after another, with my hand tracing the semi-circular path - right to left. I see an address there – the address of a friend that I made in the train. I see her name written in both Hindi and English – it showed that she hadn’t rehearsed the English version well. She was a tenth drop-out and all she new was Hindi and a lot of Marathi. In spite of my unused Hindi, we did exchange a few words and had a good time.
And then, I see this...
“Well! Valentines Day? Phew!!! That’s the ways life is. Even the bags have a place to rest! What an irony? We were supposed to travel in the third class AC compartment. Even a second class should have been a luxury. We landed in the compartment of proles. I think ‘proles’ is an over-statement. Anyway let’s talk about the observations or interesting facts that hooked on to my mind. In fact it is like the-Madhavan-style in Anbe Sivam. But my fall was from a smaller height when compared to his.”
My hand draws another of those semi-circular figures in the air, eagerly waiting to read more from the next few pages. I had a feeling that I might relive a few of those memories again. My mind imagined all those it can, within the few seconds my hand drew the curve. I flipped. And what do I see now? - A circle with four diameters, with a square on one of those thin pies.
What the hell does this mean? It meant nothing. It meant that I apparently got interested in other interesting things that happened in the train that I forgot to write about it. It just meant that I needed a good break from the cleaning sessions. It just meant that I had to play a prank on my brother and have a light hearted laugh, when I saw him go, ‘enna di ithu? michham enga?’ - 'What is this? Where is the rest?’, after he drew a similar geometrical figure in the air. It just meant that I had to re-live a few of those moments of a day in February, 2003. It just meant that I had to leave a rambling incomplete, so that I could blog about it. And it probably meant that my train-friend could have had a few coughs when I thought about her.
And now! I just wonder, ‘how many virtual semi-circles will a library have...?’
Life was getting pretty heck-ed up and inertia was setting into me. Things were moving at a pretty fast pace but nothing moved me – I was like the coin in the inertia example in the physics text books. Machine-washed clothes piling up on my bed waiting to be moved into the wardrobe; maybe they would need another washing, if I let them lay there for long enough. All the bills that the shopkeeper gleefully gave me, in exchange for my money, his profit and the commodities, were inside the myriad small covers – the ICICI and ABN Amro bank covers. This along with the ATM slips were eagerly waiting for an entry in my expense tracker, like a child waiting for its share of second helping of the ice cream.
All the Frontline issues that were untouched were also piling up. If it had ears it would have felt so grateful to my mom – for having bought it and mentioning, “Why don’t you read Frontline instead of sitting like this”. My thumb having settled cozily in the narrow groove between the up and down buttons of the remote would not let me budge. The neatly arranged books were all covered with dirt, like those snow clad mountains.
I love cleaning and setting things right, except for I need goads at the right spot to set me into motion. I started with those lovely dirt clad shelf of mine. The last time I arranged this shelf was in early 2004, I guess. I kept piling sheets of papers and notepads on to it. And now, it has grown into being an untamed, recycled forest. One after another I picked them, dusted and kept them on a table that was a few feet away. Segregations and categories kept increasing - like how I add another column in a table in MS Word, after I decide that adding it would enhance the meaning of the table.
So, I have these categories: sheets that have an unused side, sheets that needed shredding – expired bank statements, missives that were never exchanged. Birthday cards, thanks cards, all-the-best cards all on to one side. Sheets that need careful examination – God only will know when I will take these up!!!
I was shuttling between my shelf and the table. I know. By now, if not for the mosaic on the floor, the path that I traced back and forth would have a rut. The rut the bullock cart left on soft earth – the arcane path that I always want to trace.
I spotted a small notepad that endured the weight of the stack all these days. It brought back memories of the train that I took to my hometown from Pune. I flipped through the pages one after another, with my hand tracing the semi-circular path - right to left. I see an address there – the address of a friend that I made in the train. I see her name written in both Hindi and English – it showed that she hadn’t rehearsed the English version well. She was a tenth drop-out and all she new was Hindi and a lot of Marathi. In spite of my unused Hindi, we did exchange a few words and had a good time.
And then, I see this...
“Well! Valentines Day? Phew!!! That’s the ways life is. Even the bags have a place to rest! What an irony? We were supposed to travel in the third class AC compartment. Even a second class should have been a luxury. We landed in the compartment of proles. I think ‘proles’ is an over-statement. Anyway let’s talk about the observations or interesting facts that hooked on to my mind. In fact it is like the-Madhavan-style in Anbe Sivam. But my fall was from a smaller height when compared to his.”
My hand draws another of those semi-circular figures in the air, eagerly waiting to read more from the next few pages. I had a feeling that I might relive a few of those memories again. My mind imagined all those it can, within the few seconds my hand drew the curve. I flipped. And what do I see now? - A circle with four diameters, with a square on one of those thin pies.
What the hell does this mean? It meant nothing. It meant that I apparently got interested in other interesting things that happened in the train that I forgot to write about it. It just meant that I needed a good break from the cleaning sessions. It just meant that I had to play a prank on my brother and have a light hearted laugh, when I saw him go, ‘enna di ithu? michham enga?’ - 'What is this? Where is the rest?’, after he drew a similar geometrical figure in the air. It just meant that I had to re-live a few of those moments of a day in February, 2003. It just meant that I had to leave a rambling incomplete, so that I could blog about it. And it probably meant that my train-friend could have had a few coughs when I thought about her.
And now! I just wonder, ‘how many virtual semi-circles will a library have...?’
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Days of ignorance / innocence
Quite unbelievable; but we, I mean our family, didn’t own a TV until I was 10 years old. Thank God for that. I am sure it was a blessing in disguise. Prior to that, I didn’t have much access to TV either. My mommy would probably let us, I mean me and my brother, watch ‘OLiyum Oliyum’ (tamil) – ‘Light and Sound’. I pity the English language for not having been able to express lucidly, the fact that it’s the light and sound that constitutes a song (read movie).
With regard to pronouncing those words: oLiyum oliyum - you should pronounce the 'L' in the first ‘oLiyum’ with the tongue curled inwards and the ventral part of the tongue touching the upper gums. The 'l' in the latter 'oliyum', with the tip of the tongue touching your upper gums.
Coming to the point, the fact being that I was not very interested in watching TV, I hardly bothered to peep into my neighbors’ small screen. Oops!!! I think I am compensating for all those that I missed during my early days – the moment I come back from office, I am all hooked up to the TV.
We got our first TV... don’t ask!! We, I mean my parents, bought a brand called ‘Pyramid’. I mean, the irony being within about 2-3 years of its existence it became extinct!!!! I shouldn’t be saying this because the very first mobile that I got – Siemens A50 – that’s about 1.5 years ago, is now a non-existent model.
So, we got our first TV – a black and white TV with no remote control and with those sturdy knobs. There were these smooth operating knobs to increase the volume, decrease or increase the brightness and contrast. Then the knobs which were hard to turn till a threshold and beyond the threshold it would rest, with a ‘click’, to its next position. The latter was to change channels, apparently.
I am all done with explaining our first TV; so let me come to the crux. So, I the Ms. Innocent, was eagerly waiting for the TV to work. Did it work? Of course, it did. Otherwise my dad would have ripped off the heart from the electrician’s rib cage!! Now, what do I see on the TV? – A commercial of the ‘pyramid’ TV. Your highness now comes up with a brilliant question – ‘Hey!!! How can our TV show an advertisement of our own TV?’
Ok!! Ok!!! I didn’t know the laws of electromagnetism then, please pardon me. I can even hear somebody comment, ‘nee chinna vaiyusilae erunthae eppadi thaana?’ which means, ‘you have been exhibiting such radiance right from that small age, is it?’
Guys, enough is enough!! Now that you have had a good laugh, I consider it responsible of me to explain myself at this juncture. Maybe I thought that if the viewers already had that brand, then why is he wasting the precious time space on air? Well... I know I was too small to think about advertising strategies then, anyway...
And then, there was one another excellent thought of mine which, people in my family had had a good laugh over it. Ok. Let me explain the background first. My mommy works for a central government organization. Saturdays are usually an off for them.
Once upon a time, when I was about 6 – 7 years of age, she said she had to go to work that Saturday also. I asked her ‘why’, for which she said, ‘Our chairman is coming today. So we all will have to be there in the office.’ I was all confused and nonchalantly asked, ‘why do you guys have to be there? It will be a trouble if you guys are there. How will he clean the chairs then?
Well well!! the folks at home, especially my brother and my mom had a good laugh and asked me ‘What?’ I answered, ‘isn’t a chairman of a company, a person who takes care of the chairs, clean them and maintain them?’
I know, i can hear people guffawing now!!! Anyway, It is justification time!!! I would have probably derived the explanation from the fact that a post man delivers the letters or a milkman who supplies milk or a cowboy who tames and rears cows. Isn’t it a logical conclusion? I know you guys would say, ‘fat chance!!!’ anyway...
Quite funny these anecdotes are, I know. But then I couldn’t help sharing my ignorance or innocence, which ever it is - you guys decide. As always altruistically yours wanted you guys to have a nice time at my virtual home – at my expense!! Hope you guys enjoyed it; as much as I did, writing it. Like how every time, when I am in public, I compensate a loud laughter with a tight, pursed-lip grin when I visualize kushboo asking janakaraj for an address with the street name nae-sa-ma-ni-ponni-ya in the movie annamalai. I can hear more laughther this time!! Way to go, people!!
With regard to pronouncing those words: oLiyum oliyum - you should pronounce the 'L' in the first ‘oLiyum’ with the tongue curled inwards and the ventral part of the tongue touching the upper gums. The 'l' in the latter 'oliyum', with the tip of the tongue touching your upper gums.
Coming to the point, the fact being that I was not very interested in watching TV, I hardly bothered to peep into my neighbors’ small screen. Oops!!! I think I am compensating for all those that I missed during my early days – the moment I come back from office, I am all hooked up to the TV.
We got our first TV... don’t ask!! We, I mean my parents, bought a brand called ‘Pyramid’. I mean, the irony being within about 2-3 years of its existence it became extinct!!!! I shouldn’t be saying this because the very first mobile that I got – Siemens A50 – that’s about 1.5 years ago, is now a non-existent model.
So, we got our first TV – a black and white TV with no remote control and with those sturdy knobs. There were these smooth operating knobs to increase the volume, decrease or increase the brightness and contrast. Then the knobs which were hard to turn till a threshold and beyond the threshold it would rest, with a ‘click’, to its next position. The latter was to change channels, apparently.
I am all done with explaining our first TV; so let me come to the crux. So, I the Ms. Innocent, was eagerly waiting for the TV to work. Did it work? Of course, it did. Otherwise my dad would have ripped off the heart from the electrician’s rib cage!! Now, what do I see on the TV? – A commercial of the ‘pyramid’ TV. Your highness now comes up with a brilliant question – ‘Hey!!! How can our TV show an advertisement of our own TV?’
Ok!! Ok!!! I didn’t know the laws of electromagnetism then, please pardon me. I can even hear somebody comment, ‘nee chinna vaiyusilae erunthae eppadi thaana?’ which means, ‘you have been exhibiting such radiance right from that small age, is it?’
Guys, enough is enough!! Now that you have had a good laugh, I consider it responsible of me to explain myself at this juncture. Maybe I thought that if the viewers already had that brand, then why is he wasting the precious time space on air? Well... I know I was too small to think about advertising strategies then, anyway...
And then, there was one another excellent thought of mine which, people in my family had had a good laugh over it. Ok. Let me explain the background first. My mommy works for a central government organization. Saturdays are usually an off for them.
Once upon a time, when I was about 6 – 7 years of age, she said she had to go to work that Saturday also. I asked her ‘why’, for which she said, ‘Our chairman is coming today. So we all will have to be there in the office.’ I was all confused and nonchalantly asked, ‘why do you guys have to be there? It will be a trouble if you guys are there. How will he clean the chairs then?
Well well!! the folks at home, especially my brother and my mom had a good laugh and asked me ‘What?’ I answered, ‘isn’t a chairman of a company, a person who takes care of the chairs, clean them and maintain them?’
I know, i can hear people guffawing now!!! Anyway, It is justification time!!! I would have probably derived the explanation from the fact that a post man delivers the letters or a milkman who supplies milk or a cowboy who tames and rears cows. Isn’t it a logical conclusion? I know you guys would say, ‘fat chance!!!’ anyway...
Quite funny these anecdotes are, I know. But then I couldn’t help sharing my ignorance or innocence, which ever it is - you guys decide. As always altruistically yours wanted you guys to have a nice time at my virtual home – at my expense!! Hope you guys enjoyed it; as much as I did, writing it. Like how every time, when I am in public, I compensate a loud laughter with a tight, pursed-lip grin when I visualize kushboo asking janakaraj for an address with the street name nae-sa-ma-ni-ponni-ya in the movie annamalai. I can hear more laughther this time!! Way to go, people!!
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Transmigration
After pacing up and down for a few seconds she sat on the parapet of her terrace. There are a bunch of school boys who were improving their reflexes, reacting to the ball thrown on an unevenly surfaced wall. A few others on the same balcony were, apparently, discussing cricket. There is a guy on a distant terrace showing signs of interest towards this lady sitting on a parapet wall.
The sun was just about beginning its slumber. She stared at the falling sun. It looked as if the tower behind which the sun was hiding was its final resting place. Her soggy red eyes made her blink in a consistent but slower frequency than the inconsistent normalcy. The sun’s brightness seemed to fade with every blink.
She looks at the boys who were ceremoniously engrossed in improvising their fielding skills as if it was the last minute of their exam preparation time. But all she saw was a hazy black patch. She would have wondered myriad times about the ephemeral existence of the black patch every time she looks at anything, immediately after she reaches the core of the sun, battling her way with the sun rays to reach it.
Her stomach was grumbling. But she despises eating food with a lump in her throat.
She thoughtlessly gazes back to her earlier area of focus. By then there is just the tower – the tall, svelte tower; like those long skirted American blond beauties whom she started admiring a few weeks ago. The sky was painted with a faint tinge of pink on a light blue canvas with the intermittently scattered, persistent, ever existent white patches.
She reverts to those boys. Now, she could see their faces clearly. They had retired from their play and were chatting. She thought they should have quit due to the fading natural light. She turns her head further away from the west and traces back to the terrace where she saw the guy, whom she thought was conscious of her existence. He had gone by now.
The music from the walkman had stopped long ago. But she realized it much later – after she reasoned out as to why the boys had quit their practice.
All along her life she worshipped music and had immense faith in it. So much so, even when she had a headache and her friend asks her to anoint, she would amusingly say, ‘I shall listen to the walkman.’
She took the walkman from her trouser pocket, gazed at it for a while, with the same affection a mother would, when she sees her child after two long days. The walkman was revivified. By now, she seemed composed and was in a much better frame of mind. Her eyes had the enough thinness of the watery film to look at things in the right perspective.
She now turned her head towards the western skies and it was crimson red.
The sun was just about beginning its slumber. She stared at the falling sun. It looked as if the tower behind which the sun was hiding was its final resting place. Her soggy red eyes made her blink in a consistent but slower frequency than the inconsistent normalcy. The sun’s brightness seemed to fade with every blink.
She looks at the boys who were ceremoniously engrossed in improvising their fielding skills as if it was the last minute of their exam preparation time. But all she saw was a hazy black patch. She would have wondered myriad times about the ephemeral existence of the black patch every time she looks at anything, immediately after she reaches the core of the sun, battling her way with the sun rays to reach it.
Her stomach was grumbling. But she despises eating food with a lump in her throat.
She thoughtlessly gazes back to her earlier area of focus. By then there is just the tower – the tall, svelte tower; like those long skirted American blond beauties whom she started admiring a few weeks ago. The sky was painted with a faint tinge of pink on a light blue canvas with the intermittently scattered, persistent, ever existent white patches.
She reverts to those boys. Now, she could see their faces clearly. They had retired from their play and were chatting. She thought they should have quit due to the fading natural light. She turns her head further away from the west and traces back to the terrace where she saw the guy, whom she thought was conscious of her existence. He had gone by now.
The music from the walkman had stopped long ago. But she realized it much later – after she reasoned out as to why the boys had quit their practice.
All along her life she worshipped music and had immense faith in it. So much so, even when she had a headache and her friend asks her to anoint, she would amusingly say, ‘I shall listen to the walkman.’
She took the walkman from her trouser pocket, gazed at it for a while, with the same affection a mother would, when she sees her child after two long days. The walkman was revivified. By now, she seemed composed and was in a much better frame of mind. Her eyes had the enough thinness of the watery film to look at things in the right perspective.
She now turned her head towards the western skies and it was crimson red.
Dated: April 02, 2005
Friday, April 01, 2005
Impromptu, Random Thoughts!
The aspiring cyclist who keeps trying to pick up a race with every speeding vehicle, that fast approaches him from the rear and eventually zooms past him in a jiffy,
The commoner who desperately tries to pick up a cue, from the girl who travels in the slow moving bus,
The killer-stare from the meekest of all the pedestrians, who has been offended by the sudden and unexpected barge of a vehicle venturing in the wrong side of the road,
The happy and well dressed mannequins of a posh boutique,
The smartly trimmed coconut leaves and the stickler-pleasing army haircut of the common trees growing in the familiar but arcane distant houses anchored in the street farther from yours,
A car’s rear wind shield, which bears the similar sounding names that are apparently related to the owner of the car,
The confident bitter-better half who signals to the world that the shoulder or the lap of the rider is safer than the strong, designed-with-care steel loop fastened to the two-wheeler by a sturdy and time-tested nut and blot,
The deliberately deglamorised and minimized version of a witty road safety billboard that might have an opposite effect, if read on the move,
The stealth smile and the memoirs that a particular song manages to evoke every time I listen to it,
The beautiful eyes of the dark colored cleaner of the bus that I travel,
The pink lips of my new found friend,
The sands of the beach, enclosed between my cell phone and the cover, that I, the Ms. Immaculate, purposely forget to clean,
Well…, below are the various titles that I came up with, for this post…
Common and not so common facts
Common and not so common facts – common ones listed first
Untitled!
Untitled thoughts!
Impersonal and Personal thoughts…
Random thoughts!
Uncensored Random Thoughts!
Ad-lib, Uncensored Random Thoughts!
The commoner who desperately tries to pick up a cue, from the girl who travels in the slow moving bus,
The killer-stare from the meekest of all the pedestrians, who has been offended by the sudden and unexpected barge of a vehicle venturing in the wrong side of the road,
The happy and well dressed mannequins of a posh boutique,
The smartly trimmed coconut leaves and the stickler-pleasing army haircut of the common trees growing in the familiar but arcane distant houses anchored in the street farther from yours,
A car’s rear wind shield, which bears the similar sounding names that are apparently related to the owner of the car,
The confident bitter-better half who signals to the world that the shoulder or the lap of the rider is safer than the strong, designed-with-care steel loop fastened to the two-wheeler by a sturdy and time-tested nut and blot,
The deliberately deglamorised and minimized version of a witty road safety billboard that might have an opposite effect, if read on the move,
The stealth smile and the memoirs that a particular song manages to evoke every time I listen to it,
The beautiful eyes of the dark colored cleaner of the bus that I travel,
The pink lips of my new found friend,
The sands of the beach, enclosed between my cell phone and the cover, that I, the Ms. Immaculate, purposely forget to clean,
Well…, below are the various titles that I came up with, for this post…
Common and not so common facts
Common and not so common facts – common ones listed first
Untitled!
Untitled thoughts!
Impersonal and Personal thoughts…
Random thoughts!
Uncensored Random Thoughts!
Ad-lib, Uncensored Random Thoughts!
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Something!!
I am not sure what has gotten into me! Well, you must be wondering what I am talking about. I don’t understand this something that is happening to me. The other day I was listening to ‘Ennai pooppol koithuvittal...’ from ‘Minnalae’ and though I have listened to it before, this something happened to me and I deleted all other songs on my play list and kept listening to this song alone for about four hours. Remember the song is just 1 min and 56 seconds!!.
The same happened to ‘Don’t speak’ by ‘No doubt’. Then I did it to ‘thathi thathi thavudhae nenjam...’ from ‘Kaadhal kondaen’. And now it is ‘Lovefool’ by ‘The cardigans’.
You can check out the lyrics of the song here.
first band on the moon/lovefool
lovefool
Well, coming to think about it. It is a very ordinary song and there is nothing great about it. I am not sure on how well this song fared on the charts. But, there is something about this song that made me listen to it again and again. Actually, after some thought I came to a conclusion that this has tones similar to that of ‘Don’t Speak’. I mean the type of music, the fact that a lady has sung this song, the overtones relate to that of ‘Don’t speak’. Is it that the last one that makes me listen to it again and again? I don’t know.
Yeah it is quite obvious that it has something to do with the mood that I am in. But then why did this thing of listening to a song again and again happen and why only to a few particular songs alone? Whatever it is, am enjoying it with a tinge of sadness.
Ohh oh!!! Now do I sound very sad? Well, no. I am not. But then, I won’t call I am happy either.
Talking about the ‘Lovefool’ I like the way the vocalist Nina Persson has sung the song; the casual delivery of the emotions, the way she emphasizes the word ‘Pretend’ in ‘pretend that you love me...’ is just too good. Even the place where she sings/says, ‘Love me, love me...’ is good.
You can check out the information on these guys over here.
cardigans-bio
Oh! yeah, they even maintain something like a blog: cardigans. Really nice!!
The same happened to ‘Don’t speak’ by ‘No doubt’. Then I did it to ‘thathi thathi thavudhae nenjam...’ from ‘Kaadhal kondaen’. And now it is ‘Lovefool’ by ‘The cardigans’.
You can check out the lyrics of the song here.
first band on the moon/lovefool
lovefool
Well, coming to think about it. It is a very ordinary song and there is nothing great about it. I am not sure on how well this song fared on the charts. But, there is something about this song that made me listen to it again and again. Actually, after some thought I came to a conclusion that this has tones similar to that of ‘Don’t Speak’. I mean the type of music, the fact that a lady has sung this song, the overtones relate to that of ‘Don’t speak’. Is it that the last one that makes me listen to it again and again? I don’t know.
Yeah it is quite obvious that it has something to do with the mood that I am in. But then why did this thing of listening to a song again and again happen and why only to a few particular songs alone? Whatever it is, am enjoying it with a tinge of sadness.
Ohh oh!!! Now do I sound very sad? Well, no. I am not. But then, I won’t call I am happy either.
Talking about the ‘Lovefool’ I like the way the vocalist Nina Persson has sung the song; the casual delivery of the emotions, the way she emphasizes the word ‘Pretend’ in ‘pretend that you love me...’ is just too good. Even the place where she sings/says, ‘Love me, love me...’ is good.
You can check out the information on these guys over here.
cardigans-bio
Oh! yeah, they even maintain something like a blog: cardigans. Really nice!!
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Theories and Proofs
Having understood the theory behind the energy consumptions, I switched off all the electrical devices at my home, then switched on each of the same, one by one, to check at what rate the energy meter runs.
Having understood the theory behind surface tension, I related it to events that happened in the next few seconds the soap-foam fell on a wet floor.
Having learnt the ‘light travels faster than sound’ theory, I tried to tie a relation between every lightening stroke to the delayed sounds of every thunder.
After having learnt a few root words, I successfully crack the meaning of a word.
Speaking of cracking the meaning of words using etymology, I would like to share this…
Etymology could be really interesting. A few examples actually made me fall in love with etymology. One such is what I have tried to explain here.
Origin of the word ‘Deliver’
For example deliver is actually de + liver. De can be used either as a prefix that acts as an opposite or as an intensifier. Liver has its origin from liber (yeah! the same as that of liberate). So, de is an intensifier here and liver (from liber) means to grant freedom to. Hence the word deliver per se means to release.
That is why in cricket every ball bowled in an over is called delivery.
Giving below are a few of my theories and proofs.
Chicks (I mean chickens) have the worst road sense.
I have been having slowing down my bike drastically and sometimes even stopping it, every time chicks (I still mean chickens ;-)) try to get to the other side of the road.
*tongue in cheek remark* ‘The above words could be interpreted in a different way by a few others. I would like to mention that I had altruistic intentions when I originally thought of it. But then, I couldn’t stop a double entendre in the making.’
Most of the human beings have good music sense.
I have been hearing Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’ in almost all the trucks inching in the reverse gear.
This doesn’t fit under the title of the post, but this was the first sentence that I wrote when I was thinking about my next post. So, I thought I should it give the ‘prime salutes’ (mudhal mariyadhai)
Have a sense of satisfaction after I successfully synchronize the song that plays from a public broadcast with that of the one in the play list stored on my computer.
Having understood the theory behind surface tension, I related it to events that happened in the next few seconds the soap-foam fell on a wet floor.
Having learnt the ‘light travels faster than sound’ theory, I tried to tie a relation between every lightening stroke to the delayed sounds of every thunder.
After having learnt a few root words, I successfully crack the meaning of a word.
Speaking of cracking the meaning of words using etymology, I would like to share this…
Etymology could be really interesting. A few examples actually made me fall in love with etymology. One such is what I have tried to explain here.
Origin of the word ‘Deliver’
For example deliver is actually de + liver. De can be used either as a prefix that acts as an opposite or as an intensifier. Liver has its origin from liber (yeah! the same as that of liberate). So, de is an intensifier here and liver (from liber) means to grant freedom to. Hence the word deliver per se means to release.
That is why in cricket every ball bowled in an over is called delivery.
Giving below are a few of my theories and proofs.
Chicks (I mean chickens) have the worst road sense.
I have been having slowing down my bike drastically and sometimes even stopping it, every time chicks (I still mean chickens ;-)) try to get to the other side of the road.
*tongue in cheek remark* ‘The above words could be interpreted in a different way by a few others. I would like to mention that I had altruistic intentions when I originally thought of it. But then, I couldn’t stop a double entendre in the making.’
Most of the human beings have good music sense.
I have been hearing Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’ in almost all the trucks inching in the reverse gear.
This doesn’t fit under the title of the post, but this was the first sentence that I wrote when I was thinking about my next post. So, I thought I should it give the ‘prime salutes’ (mudhal mariyadhai)
Have a sense of satisfaction after I successfully synchronize the song that plays from a public broadcast with that of the one in the play list stored on my computer.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Results of a few interesting things... that I thot abt
There is an English word whose meaning is: the meaning of the word is known but the word is not known.
well...I do not remember the word!!
__________
There are certain things in life that you can neither categorise as permission nor information. It is something like the side indicators used by drivers to take a right or a left turn.
______________
I saw the hoarding of a Fitness studio and how ironical can one get... The letters were all out of shape!!
___________________
I would work in the same place as some XYZ does and would have seen him/her a lot many number of times. But it would obviously look funny to smile at XYZ. But on any given day I see XYZ somewhere outside the campus. We recognize each other and smile. The next day I see XYZ in the campus and we smile. But I am sure, if yesterday’s incident had never happened we would still be strangers.
well...I do not remember the word!!
__________
There are certain things in life that you can neither categorise as permission nor information. It is something like the side indicators used by drivers to take a right or a left turn.
______________
I saw the hoarding of a Fitness studio and how ironical can one get... The letters were all out of shape!!
___________________
I would work in the same place as some XYZ does and would have seen him/her a lot many number of times. But it would obviously look funny to smile at XYZ. But on any given day I see XYZ somewhere outside the campus. We recognize each other and smile. The next day I see XYZ in the campus and we smile. But I am sure, if yesterday’s incident had never happened we would still be strangers.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
A few of my favourites - Not in any order
She is always a woman to me, Billy Joel
Rasputin, Boney M
Have you ever loved a woman, Bryan Adams
Janies Got A Gun, Aerosmith
Hotel California, Eagles
Ironic, Alanis Morissette
Born in the USA, Bruce Springsteen
Smoke On The Water, Deep Purple
Don't Speak, No Doubt
Lemon Tree, Fools Garden
I’d love you to want me, Lobo
Lady in Red, Chris De Burgh
Nothings gonna change my love for you, George Benson
Sweet Child Of Mine, Guns n roses
I cant help falling in love, UB40
Kiss from a rose, Seal
I swear, All 4 one
Janies Got A Gun, Aerosmith
Uptown Girl, Billy Joel
Starry Starry Night, Don Mclean
Leaving on a Jet Plane, John Denver
Que Sera Sera, Doris Day
The Sound of Silence, Simon and Garfunkel
I Just Called To Say I Love U, Stevie Wonder
Rasputin, Boney M
Have you ever loved a woman, Bryan Adams
Janies Got A Gun, Aerosmith
Hotel California, Eagles
Ironic, Alanis Morissette
Born in the USA, Bruce Springsteen
Smoke On The Water, Deep Purple
Don't Speak, No Doubt
Lemon Tree, Fools Garden
I’d love you to want me, Lobo
Lady in Red, Chris De Burgh
Nothings gonna change my love for you, George Benson
Sweet Child Of Mine, Guns n roses
I cant help falling in love, UB40
Kiss from a rose, Seal
I swear, All 4 one
Janies Got A Gun, Aerosmith
Uptown Girl, Billy Joel
Starry Starry Night, Don Mclean
Leaving on a Jet Plane, John Denver
Que Sera Sera, Doris Day
The Sound of Silence, Simon and Garfunkel
I Just Called To Say I Love U, Stevie Wonder
Friday, February 25, 2005
Radio romance
I was on a public transport
with its radio playing a duo
The bus’ accelerator though,
let me hear only the hero’s solo
Blaring from the road-side radio,
his foray, made him sound like a true hero
The bus’ change in gears,
let me hear his highness’ meek tears
Oh! There is resistance and distance,
Even in radio romance...
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Dont Speak, No Doubt.
This is a very very good song and i just love it. Its only recently (OK. the recently is today) that I had a chance to look at the lyrics. I thought it had very beautiful lyrics. But then when I actually attempted to sing along, I found it very hard. Boy!!! such a difficult piece of writing to make music to.
But then, all said and done the credit should go to the lyricist, musician and singer, the only female in the band (don’t ask me who else, other than lyricist, musician and singer is needed to create a song – thot I will be a bit generous when it comes to compliments :-)). Gwen Renee Stefani, the vocalist has done a good job of it (I was impressed with the video, the first time I saw it, bcos of the pottu aka bindi that she had on her forehead). If you guys haven’t listened to the song, please do listen to it. It’s a wonderful song!!!!
You and me
We used to be together
Everyday together always
I really feel
That I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe
This could be the end
It looks as though you're letting go
And if it's real
Well I don't want to know
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Our memories
Well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether
Mighty frightening
As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands
I sit and cry
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are...
You and me
I can see us dying...are we?
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't tell me cause it hurts!
I know what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't speak,
don't speak,
don't speak,
oh I know what you're thinking
And I don't need your reasons
I know you're good,
I know you're good,
I know you're real good
Oh, la la la la la la La la la la la la
Don't, Don't, uh-huh Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush darlin' Hush, hush
don't tell me tell me cause it hurts
Hush, hush darlin' Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush don't tell me tell me cause it hurts.
:-)
But then, all said and done the credit should go to the lyricist, musician and singer, the only female in the band (don’t ask me who else, other than lyricist, musician and singer is needed to create a song – thot I will be a bit generous when it comes to compliments :-)). Gwen Renee Stefani, the vocalist has done a good job of it (I was impressed with the video, the first time I saw it, bcos of the pottu aka bindi that she had on her forehead). If you guys haven’t listened to the song, please do listen to it. It’s a wonderful song!!!!
Dont Speak
You and me
We used to be together
Everyday together always
I really feel
That I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe
This could be the end
It looks as though you're letting go
And if it's real
Well I don't want to know
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Our memories
Well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether
Mighty frightening
As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands
I sit and cry
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are...
You and me
I can see us dying...are we?
Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me cause it hurts
Don't tell me cause it hurts!
I know what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't speak,
don't speak,
don't speak,
oh I know what you're thinking
And I don't need your reasons
I know you're good,
I know you're good,
I know you're real good
Oh, la la la la la la La la la la la la
Don't, Don't, uh-huh Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush darlin' Hush, hush
don't tell me tell me cause it hurts
Hush, hush darlin' Hush, hush darlin'
Hush, hush don't tell me tell me cause it hurts.
:-)
Saturday, February 19, 2005
SWEET, small MIRACLES
Yeah!!! I am kinda overwhelmed. Just think about the following happening. You are in one of those really really happy moments of your day and are in your elements. Ok. I will tell you what I generally do when I am in that state.
I hum every song (my voice is really pathetic for a song but I still feel proud of my voice) that plays on the radio while I am traveling and if possible try to whistle all through the songs.
Get along with every song that you hear. I mean when I say get along I mean: feel sad for a really sad song and get peppy when a hit dance number plays. Basically empathize.
Pick up some really nice numbers that I might be able to whistle and sing as well. Whistle in low base all through my walk.
Mock all the people around me. ;-) (You should ask my brother about the mockery that I make of others when I hitch I ride with him.)
Race along the empty roads on the bike and sing/whistle one of those select few songs as aloud as possible. Well!! Again, Mahesh should be familiar with that.
I suppose you can assume that I did all of the above today while I was returning home. Now, what happened to make me overwhelm so much, that I have come to the extent of blogging about the same. OK. Now listen. I was in a really excited state, simply for the fact that I have not been in the happy-for-no-particular-reason types for a very very long time.
The song that I was singing/whistling was ‘Mellisayae…’ from the film ‘Romeo’. Though I don’t like the way it has been visualized (well I jus discovered, to my shock, that Microsoft Word says there is no such word called picturised), it is indeed a beautiful duet by Swarnalatha and Srinivas. The other one was ‘Azhagiya Theeye…’ from ‘Minnalae’. My mind should have chosen this song for the fact that it has a music-bit that one can easily whistle. I was alternating between these song all through my journey.
I reach my home in the same good spirits. The first job that I do when I come home will be to turn on the radio. I do this before I sleep and before I wake up. In fact, even when my mom wakes me up, the first thing that I ask her to do is to turn on the radio and then proceed with anything that she asks me to.
I switched on the radio as usual. To my surprise. I listen to the song ‘Mellisayae…’ playing somewhere in the midway. I was On-Top-of-the-World literally. I mean how can this possibly happen unless you are really really lucky!!!! This is not a so often repeated song in Radio Mirchi (yes, they generally repeat songs a lot). There is no chance that I could have picked it on the way because there are not many of these tea stalls that blares loud songs from the radio stations. I thought I should be really lucky.
I know this is not such a big thing but still, I am all surprised and so thankful for the same to have happened. Cool!!!!
I hum every song (my voice is really pathetic for a song but I still feel proud of my voice) that plays on the radio while I am traveling and if possible try to whistle all through the songs.
Get along with every song that you hear. I mean when I say get along I mean: feel sad for a really sad song and get peppy when a hit dance number plays. Basically empathize.
Pick up some really nice numbers that I might be able to whistle and sing as well. Whistle in low base all through my walk.
Mock all the people around me. ;-) (You should ask my brother about the mockery that I make of others when I hitch I ride with him.)
Race along the empty roads on the bike and sing/whistle one of those select few songs as aloud as possible. Well!! Again, Mahesh should be familiar with that.
I suppose you can assume that I did all of the above today while I was returning home. Now, what happened to make me overwhelm so much, that I have come to the extent of blogging about the same. OK. Now listen. I was in a really excited state, simply for the fact that I have not been in the happy-for-no-particular-reason types for a very very long time.
The song that I was singing/whistling was ‘Mellisayae…’ from the film ‘Romeo’. Though I don’t like the way it has been visualized (well I jus discovered, to my shock, that Microsoft Word says there is no such word called picturised), it is indeed a beautiful duet by Swarnalatha and Srinivas. The other one was ‘Azhagiya Theeye…’ from ‘Minnalae’. My mind should have chosen this song for the fact that it has a music-bit that one can easily whistle. I was alternating between these song all through my journey.
I reach my home in the same good spirits. The first job that I do when I come home will be to turn on the radio. I do this before I sleep and before I wake up. In fact, even when my mom wakes me up, the first thing that I ask her to do is to turn on the radio and then proceed with anything that she asks me to.
I switched on the radio as usual. To my surprise. I listen to the song ‘Mellisayae…’ playing somewhere in the midway. I was On-Top-of-the-World literally. I mean how can this possibly happen unless you are really really lucky!!!! This is not a so often repeated song in Radio Mirchi (yes, they generally repeat songs a lot). There is no chance that I could have picked it on the way because there are not many of these tea stalls that blares loud songs from the radio stations. I thought I should be really lucky.
I know this is not such a big thing but still, I am all surprised and so thankful for the same to have happened. Cool!!!!
Friday, February 18, 2005
Morning (C)Rush
I saw a red shoe-flower on the tar road,
the Latin name of a flower that still stays in my mind.
So bloomed and full of life
And so striking the contrast was
that such a beautiful sight it was.
If the road was a living thing
it would feel as we would,
when we hold a newborn in our arms.
But within nanoseconds my thoughts withered
I knew it was in danger.
It didn’t know where to go.
In its undefined path, it was all astray.
I neither had the time nor thought
to save it.
This time, within even lesser than a nanosecond
A truck came rushing in.
It crushed the flower
Under its rugged black tyre.
Now all I see is a crumpled object
Like the one that has been thrown from a frustrated poet.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
This is some interesting reading that I found at this blog: fayrouz. I liked it a lot. So i thought I shall post it here. Well the blogger maintains this blog as a leisure blog. The description of the blog is this: 'A place to write fun stuff. A place to take a break from politics'. She writes very serious materials which on any given day i ll never will be able to handle. Yeah the serious material being politics. The links to her other blogs are can be found in her blog. For now, the one below is just too good!!!
• If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it will always be yours. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with. But, if it just sits in your living room, messes up your stuff, eats your food, uses your telephone, takes your money, and doesn't appear to realize that you had set it free. You either married it or gave birth to it.
• Reason to smile: Every 7 minutes of every day, someone in an aerobics class pulls a hamstring.
• My mind not only wanders, it sometimes leaves completely.
• The best way to forget all your troubles is to wear tight shoes.
• The nice part about living in a small town: When you don't know what you're doing, someone else always does.
• Just when I was getting used to yesterday, along came today.
• Sometimes I think I understand everything, then I regain consciousness.
• Amazing!! You hang something in your closet for a while and it shrinks two sizes!
• They keep telling us to get in touch with our bodies. Mine isn't all that communicative but I heard from it the other day after I said, "Body, how'd you like to go to the six o'clock class in vigorous toning?" Clear as a bell my body said, "Listen fatty....do it and die."
• I read this article that said the typical symptoms of stress are eating too much, impulse buying, and driving too fast. Are they kidding? That's my idea of a perfect day.
:-)
• If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it will always be yours. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with. But, if it just sits in your living room, messes up your stuff, eats your food, uses your telephone, takes your money, and doesn't appear to realize that you had set it free. You either married it or gave birth to it.
• Reason to smile: Every 7 minutes of every day, someone in an aerobics class pulls a hamstring.
• My mind not only wanders, it sometimes leaves completely.
• The best way to forget all your troubles is to wear tight shoes.
• The nice part about living in a small town: When you don't know what you're doing, someone else always does.
• Just when I was getting used to yesterday, along came today.
• Sometimes I think I understand everything, then I regain consciousness.
• Amazing!! You hang something in your closet for a while and it shrinks two sizes!
• They keep telling us to get in touch with our bodies. Mine isn't all that communicative but I heard from it the other day after I said, "Body, how'd you like to go to the six o'clock class in vigorous toning?" Clear as a bell my body said, "Listen fatty....do it and die."
• I read this article that said the typical symptoms of stress are eating too much, impulse buying, and driving too fast. Are they kidding? That's my idea of a perfect day.
:-)
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Last of the Kill Bill scripts series!! RIP ;-)
This is quite an amazing scene and my favourite in the whole of the movie. This is where Beatrix Kiddo meets her child after four years. In fact, she is unaware of the fact that her child is still alive. Uma Thurman's expressions are simply quite amazing. Too good. Just too good!!!
What the Bride sees in front of her is, Bill in a tuxedo, holding a small, orange squirt gun pointed at her. Standing next to him is five-year-old little B.B., dressed up in a very pretty party dress, arm outstretched holding a orange squirt gun, aimed at The Bride. The three look at each other for a moment, then Bill says;
BILL (loudly): Bang Bang!
Then he suddenly clutches his abdomen like he's just been shot.
BILL: Oh B.B., Mommy got us.
B.B. lowers her gun and plays out a big dying scene alongside her dad...Bill falls to the floor.
BILL: Oh, I'm dying...I'm dying...
B.B. parrots this.
B.B.: Oh, I'm dying...I'm dying...
Bill on the floor, says up to his little girl;
BILL: Fall down sweetheart, Mommy shot you.
The little girl falls down pretend dead. The Bride, still absentmindedly pointing her weapon at them, is truly thrown. Bill delivers his lines from the floor, spoken like a dying breath;
BILL: You did it Quick Draw Kiddo. You are-the fastest.
And with these last words, pretends to die.
But then while pretending to be dead, he speaks in a dramatic narrator's voice.
BILL: But...little did Quick Draw Kiddo know,...that five-year-old B.B. Gunn was only playing possum, due to the fact she was impervious to bullets.
B.B. raises her head off the floor and says;
B.B. (to Mommy): I'm impervious to bullets, Mommy.
BILL(to B.B.): Hey, get back down there, you're playing possum.
The little girl's head drops back down. Bill continues his dramatic narration;
BILL: So, as the smirking killer approached, what she thought, was a bullet-ridden corpse,...that's when the little B.B. Gunn fired.
B.B. springs up holding her tiny orange squirt gun and says;
B.B.: Bang bang!
The Bride continues watching in gobsmackery. Bill raises his head off the floor, and says to her in his normal voice;
BILL: Mommy, you're dead - so die.
The Bride shakes off her confusion, and acts out a big death scene for her little girl.
THE BRIDE: Oh, B.B., you got me. I should have known, you are the best.
She falls to the floor and pretends to die. The little girl in her party dress, runs over to the big girl in her wedding dress, and kneels over her mommy. Mommy opens her eyes.
B.B.: Don't die Mommy, I was just playing.
From the floor, looking up at her daughter, she speaks to her for the first time.
MOMMY: I know baby.
They embrace each other.
B.B.: I waited a long time for you to wake up, Mommy. Did you dream of me - I dreamed of you?
The female killer says to her daughter as mommieness begins to creep into her voice;
THE BRIDE: Every single night, baby.
She holds her daughter out at arm's length to get a better look at her.
THE BRIDE: Now let me look at you. My my my...What a pretty girl you are.
B.B.: You're pretty too, Mommy.
B.B. starts stroking her mother's long blonde hair.
THE BRIDE: Thank you.
All of a sudden, Bill has joined them on the floor.
BILL: When I showed you Mommy's picture, tell Mommy what you said.
The little girl gets shy.
BILL: C'mon shy girl, you know what you said, tell Mommy, it'll make her feel good.
As she strokes her long blonde hair, little B.B. says;
B.B.: I said - I said - You're the most beautiful woman I ever saw in the whole white world.
BILL: That's the truth. That's what she said.
INT. DINNER ROOM - NIGHT
The dining room of Bill's house. The family, mother father and daughter, sit at the dinner table eating.
BILL: B.B., don't you think Mommy has the prettiest hair in the whole wide world?
B.B.: Yes I do.
BILL: In fact it's better than pretty. What's better than pretty?
B.B.: Gorgeous.
BILL: Very good, gorgeous. Mommy is gorgeous.
The Bride shows no sign of thawing around Bill.
BILL: You know baby, Mommy's kinda mad at Daddy.
B.B.: Why? Where you a bad daddy?
BILL: I'm afraid I was. I was a real bad daddy. (to Mommy) Our little girl learned about life and death the other day. (to B.B.) You want to tell Mommy about what happened to Emilio?
B.B.: I killed him. I didn't mean to, but I stepped on him and he stopped moving.
BILL: Emilio was her goldfish. She came running into my room holding the fish in her hand, crying, "Daddy daddy, Emilio's dead." And I said, "Really, that's so sad. How did he die?" And what did you say?
B.B.: I stepped on him.
BILL: Actually young lady, the words you so strategically used were, "I accidentally stepped on him." Right?
B.B.: Yeah.
BILL: To which I queried, "And just how did your foot accidentally find its way into Emilio's fishbowl?" And she told me no no no, Emilio was on the carpet when she stepped on him. (beat) Hummmmmm, the plot thickens. And just how did Emilio get on the carpet? And Mommy, you would have been real proud of her, because she didn't lie. She said she took Emilio out of his bowl, and put him on the carpet. And what was Emilio doing on the carpet, baby?
B.B.: He was -- flapping.
BILL: And then you stomped on him?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: And when you lifted your foot up, what was Emilio doing then?
B.B.: Nothing.
BILL: He stopped flapping, didn't he?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: And you knew what that meant, didn't you?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: What did that mean?
B.B.: He was dead.
BILL: (to Mommy) She told me later, that the second she lifted up her foot and saw him not flapping, she knew he was dead. Is that not the perfect visual image of life and death? A fish flapping on the carpet, and a fish not flapping on the carpet. So powerful even a five-year old child with no concept of life and death knew what it meant. Not only did she know Emilio was dead, she knew she had killed him. So she comes running into my room, holding Emilio in both of her little hands - it was so cute - and she wanted me to make Emilio better. And I asked her, why did she step on Emilio? And she said, she didn't know. But I knew why. You didn't mean to hurt Emilio, you just wanted to see what would happen if you stepped on him, right?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: And what happens when you stomp on Emilio, is you kill him. And you discovered that, didn't you?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: So we drove down to the beach, had a little funeral, and gave Emilio a burial at sea. And right now I'm sure he's happy as can be, swimming around in fish heaven. But the point being, our child learned two very important lessons. One, about life and death. The other, somethings once you do, they can't be undone. I knew just how she felt (to B.B.) You loved Emilio, didn't you?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: Well sweety, I love Mommy, but I did to Mommy what you did to Emilio.
B.B.: You stomped on Mommy?
BILL: Worse. (making his finger a gun) I shot Mommy. Not pretend shoot, like we were just doing. I shot her for real.
B.B.: Why?
BILL: I don't know.
B.B.: Did you want to see what would happen?
BILL: No, I knew what would happen to Mommy if I shot her. What I didn't know, is when I shot Mommy, what would happen to me.
B.B.: What happened?
BILL: I was very sad. And that was when I learned, somethings once you do, they can never be undone.
B.B.: What happened to Mommy?
BILL: Why don't you ask Mommy.
B.B.: Are you okay Mommy. Does it hurt?
BILL: No sweety, it doesn't hurt anymore.
B.B.: Did it make you sick?
MOMMY: It put me to sleep. That's why I haven't been with you B.B., I've been asleep.
B.B.: But you're awake now, right?
MOMMY: I'm wide awake, pretty girl.
What the Bride sees in front of her is, Bill in a tuxedo, holding a small, orange squirt gun pointed at her. Standing next to him is five-year-old little B.B., dressed up in a very pretty party dress, arm outstretched holding a orange squirt gun, aimed at The Bride. The three look at each other for a moment, then Bill says;
BILL (loudly): Bang Bang!
Then he suddenly clutches his abdomen like he's just been shot.
BILL: Oh B.B., Mommy got us.
B.B. lowers her gun and plays out a big dying scene alongside her dad...Bill falls to the floor.
BILL: Oh, I'm dying...I'm dying...
B.B. parrots this.
B.B.: Oh, I'm dying...I'm dying...
Bill on the floor, says up to his little girl;
BILL: Fall down sweetheart, Mommy shot you.
The little girl falls down pretend dead. The Bride, still absentmindedly pointing her weapon at them, is truly thrown. Bill delivers his lines from the floor, spoken like a dying breath;
BILL: You did it Quick Draw Kiddo. You are-the fastest.
And with these last words, pretends to die.
But then while pretending to be dead, he speaks in a dramatic narrator's voice.
BILL: But...little did Quick Draw Kiddo know,...that five-year-old B.B. Gunn was only playing possum, due to the fact she was impervious to bullets.
B.B. raises her head off the floor and says;
B.B. (to Mommy): I'm impervious to bullets, Mommy.
BILL(to B.B.): Hey, get back down there, you're playing possum.
The little girl's head drops back down. Bill continues his dramatic narration;
BILL: So, as the smirking killer approached, what she thought, was a bullet-ridden corpse,...that's when the little B.B. Gunn fired.
B.B. springs up holding her tiny orange squirt gun and says;
B.B.: Bang bang!
The Bride continues watching in gobsmackery. Bill raises his head off the floor, and says to her in his normal voice;
BILL: Mommy, you're dead - so die.
The Bride shakes off her confusion, and acts out a big death scene for her little girl.
THE BRIDE: Oh, B.B., you got me. I should have known, you are the best.
She falls to the floor and pretends to die. The little girl in her party dress, runs over to the big girl in her wedding dress, and kneels over her mommy. Mommy opens her eyes.
B.B.: Don't die Mommy, I was just playing.
From the floor, looking up at her daughter, she speaks to her for the first time.
MOMMY: I know baby.
They embrace each other.
B.B.: I waited a long time for you to wake up, Mommy. Did you dream of me - I dreamed of you?
The female killer says to her daughter as mommieness begins to creep into her voice;
THE BRIDE: Every single night, baby.
She holds her daughter out at arm's length to get a better look at her.
THE BRIDE: Now let me look at you. My my my...What a pretty girl you are.
B.B.: You're pretty too, Mommy.
B.B. starts stroking her mother's long blonde hair.
THE BRIDE: Thank you.
All of a sudden, Bill has joined them on the floor.
BILL: When I showed you Mommy's picture, tell Mommy what you said.
The little girl gets shy.
BILL: C'mon shy girl, you know what you said, tell Mommy, it'll make her feel good.
As she strokes her long blonde hair, little B.B. says;
B.B.: I said - I said - You're the most beautiful woman I ever saw in the whole white world.
BILL: That's the truth. That's what she said.
INT. DINNER ROOM - NIGHT
The dining room of Bill's house. The family, mother father and daughter, sit at the dinner table eating.
BILL: B.B., don't you think Mommy has the prettiest hair in the whole wide world?
B.B.: Yes I do.
BILL: In fact it's better than pretty. What's better than pretty?
B.B.: Gorgeous.
BILL: Very good, gorgeous. Mommy is gorgeous.
The Bride shows no sign of thawing around Bill.
BILL: You know baby, Mommy's kinda mad at Daddy.
B.B.: Why? Where you a bad daddy?
BILL: I'm afraid I was. I was a real bad daddy. (to Mommy) Our little girl learned about life and death the other day. (to B.B.) You want to tell Mommy about what happened to Emilio?
B.B.: I killed him. I didn't mean to, but I stepped on him and he stopped moving.
BILL: Emilio was her goldfish. She came running into my room holding the fish in her hand, crying, "Daddy daddy, Emilio's dead." And I said, "Really, that's so sad. How did he die?" And what did you say?
B.B.: I stepped on him.
BILL: Actually young lady, the words you so strategically used were, "I accidentally stepped on him." Right?
B.B.: Yeah.
BILL: To which I queried, "And just how did your foot accidentally find its way into Emilio's fishbowl?" And she told me no no no, Emilio was on the carpet when she stepped on him. (beat) Hummmmmm, the plot thickens. And just how did Emilio get on the carpet? And Mommy, you would have been real proud of her, because she didn't lie. She said she took Emilio out of his bowl, and put him on the carpet. And what was Emilio doing on the carpet, baby?
B.B.: He was -- flapping.
BILL: And then you stomped on him?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: And when you lifted your foot up, what was Emilio doing then?
B.B.: Nothing.
BILL: He stopped flapping, didn't he?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: And you knew what that meant, didn't you?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: What did that mean?
B.B.: He was dead.
BILL: (to Mommy) She told me later, that the second she lifted up her foot and saw him not flapping, she knew he was dead. Is that not the perfect visual image of life and death? A fish flapping on the carpet, and a fish not flapping on the carpet. So powerful even a five-year old child with no concept of life and death knew what it meant. Not only did she know Emilio was dead, she knew she had killed him. So she comes running into my room, holding Emilio in both of her little hands - it was so cute - and she wanted me to make Emilio better. And I asked her, why did she step on Emilio? And she said, she didn't know. But I knew why. You didn't mean to hurt Emilio, you just wanted to see what would happen if you stepped on him, right?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: And what happens when you stomp on Emilio, is you kill him. And you discovered that, didn't you?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: So we drove down to the beach, had a little funeral, and gave Emilio a burial at sea. And right now I'm sure he's happy as can be, swimming around in fish heaven. But the point being, our child learned two very important lessons. One, about life and death. The other, somethings once you do, they can't be undone. I knew just how she felt (to B.B.) You loved Emilio, didn't you?
B.B.: Uh-huh.
BILL: Well sweety, I love Mommy, but I did to Mommy what you did to Emilio.
B.B.: You stomped on Mommy?
BILL: Worse. (making his finger a gun) I shot Mommy. Not pretend shoot, like we were just doing. I shot her for real.
B.B.: Why?
BILL: I don't know.
B.B.: Did you want to see what would happen?
BILL: No, I knew what would happen to Mommy if I shot her. What I didn't know, is when I shot Mommy, what would happen to me.
B.B.: What happened?
BILL: I was very sad. And that was when I learned, somethings once you do, they can never be undone.
B.B.: What happened to Mommy?
BILL: Why don't you ask Mommy.
B.B.: Are you okay Mommy. Does it hurt?
BILL: No sweety, it doesn't hurt anymore.
B.B.: Did it make you sick?
MOMMY: It put me to sleep. That's why I haven't been with you B.B., I've been asleep.
B.B.: But you're awake now, right?
MOMMY: I'm wide awake, pretty girl.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Kill Bill Vol. 2
This is a continuation of the last post
These are the dialogues that conveys how cruel a person can be when it comes to betraying somebody. In fact, Budd (Bill's brother) leaves a bad taste in the audiences mind for burying Beatrix Kiddo alive. But what Elle Driver does makes one feel sympathetic towards him at the end of it. By now you should have guessed the extent to which Elle Driver would have brutalised Budd. I wont call it brutal. It is the betrayal that is quite threatening than anything else.
Budd turns on the NOISY blender, as Elle writes down the name Paula Schultz on a small notepad, placing it back inside her pocket. As the blender MASHES ICE, Elle looks around and sees the Bride's Hanzo sword in its sheath, leaning up against the T.V. In the front room. Budd shuts the blender off.
ELLE: Can I look at the sword?
BUDD: That's my money in that black case, isn't it?
ELLE: Sure is.
BUDD: Well then, it's your sword now.
The tall blonde girl steps into the living room, takes the Hanzo sword, and sits back down on the kitchen chair. She slowly removes the Japanese steel from its wood sheath.
ELLE: So this, is a Hattori Hanzo sword.
Budd answers as he fills up two former peanut butter jars with breakfast margaritas.
BUDD: That's a Hanzo sword alright.
ELLE: Bill tells me you once had one of your own.
Pause.
BUDD: Once.
ELLE: How does this one compare to that one?
BUDD: If you're gonna compare a Hanzo sword, you compare it to every sword ever made -- wasn't made by Hattori Hanzo. Here, wrap your lips around this.
He hands her her margarita, she takes a sip. He takes a gulp.
BUDD: So, which "R" you filled with?
ELLE: What?
BUDD: They say the number one killer of old people is retirement. People got'em a job to do, they tend to live a little longer so they can do it. I've always figured warriors and their enemies share the same relationship. So now you ain't gonna hafta face your enemy on the battlefield no more, which "R" are you filled with, Relief or Regret?
ELLE: A little bit of both.
BUDD: Bullshit. I'm sure you do feel a little bit of both. But I know damn well you feel one more than you feel the other. The question was which one?
Elle looks right at him with her eye, and says;
ELLE: Regret.
BUDD: Yeah you gotta hand it to the ol' girl. I never saw nobody buffalo Bill the way she buffaloed Bill. Bill useta think she was so damn smart. I tried to tell him... Bill, she's just smart for a blonde.
He looks over at Elle and grins. Elle looks at him.
ELLE: Want your money?
She gestures to the black suitcase by her feet. He smiles and lifts it up on the table, unzipping it open. Lying inside is a cool million, the thousand dollar bills are inside stacks of a hundred thousand each. At the sight of all this lettuce, Budd lets out a whistle.
BUDD: Great day in the morning.
He lifts a stack out of the bag, then another, then another...and when he lifts the third stack out, he looks down and sees a BLACK MAMBA SNAKE coiled underneath. The Black Mamba opens its WIDE JAWS...and LEAPS RIGHT AT BUDD...STRIKING Budd in the face repeatedly in blurred succession (three times in the face, and once in the forearm). Budd topples out of the kitchen chair onto the floor, bundles of money fall with him. Elle takes a sip of her Margarita. The Black Mamba leaves Budd and goes under the refridgerator. Elle looks down, Budd lies on his back on the kitchen floor at her feet. His face is already grotesquely swollen and white as a sheet. The serpent's extraordinarily potent venom makes a full-frontal assault on the cowboys's nervous system.
ELLE: Oh, I'm sorry Budd, that was rude of me wasn't it? Budd -- I'd like to introduce my friend, The Black Mamba. (gesturing towards the refridgerator) Black Mamba -- this is Budd. You know before I picked up that little fella, I looked him up on the internet. (she removes her notepad from her pocket) Fascinating creature the Black Mamba.
Listen to this, (reading from the notepad) "...In Africa, the saying goes, in the bush, an elephant can kill you. A leopard can kill you. And a Black Mamba can kill you. But only with the Mamba, and this has been true in Africa since the dawn of time, is death sure. Hence its handle; Death Incarnate." (looking up from the paper) Pretty cool, huh? (back to paper)"...Its neurotoxic venom is one of nature's most effective poisons, acting on the nervous system causing paralysis. The venom of a Black Mamba can kill a human in four hours, if say bitten on the ankle or the thumb. However, a bite to the face or torso can bring death from paralysis within twenty minutes.
(up from paper to Budd) Now you should listen to this cause this concerns you. (reading from the paper) The amount of venom that can be delivered from a single bit can be gargantuan. (looks up from paper) -- You know I've always liked that word Gargantuan, and I so rarely have an opportunity to use it in a sentence. (back to paper) "If not treated quickly with anti venom, 10 to 15 milligrams can be fatal to human beings. However, the Black Mamba can deliver as much as 100 to 400 milligrams of venom from a single bite."
Elle finishes reading and puts the paper away. She looks down at Budd at her feet, going through all the symptoms she just described.
ELLE: Now in these last agonizing minutes of life you have left, let me answer the question you asked earlier, more thoroughly. When it comes to that bitch, I gotta lotta "R's" in me. Revenge is one. Retribution is another. Rivalry is definitely one. But I got another "R" for that bitch you might be surprised to find out. Respect. But right at this moment, the biggest "R" I feel, is Regret. Regret that maybe the greatest warrior I have ever met, met her end at the hands of a bushwhackin, scrub, alacky piece of shit like you. The woman deserved better.
Budd, dying, watches from the floor as Elle takes out her cell phone and presses one button. The other party comes on the line, but we never hear their side.
ELLE: (into phone) Bill...Elle. I have some tragic news. (pause) Your brother's dead. (pause) I'm sorry baby. She put a Black Mamba in his camper. (pause) I got her, sweety. (pause) She's dead. (pause) Let me put it this way. If you ever start feeling sentimental, go to Austin, Texas. When you get here, walk into a florist and buy a bunch of flowers. Then you take those flowers to Huntington cemetery on Fuller and Guadalupe, look for the headstone marked "Paula Schultz", then lay them on the grave. Because you will be standing at the final resting place of BEATRIX KIDDO.
These are the dialogues that conveys how cruel a person can be when it comes to betraying somebody. In fact, Budd (Bill's brother) leaves a bad taste in the audiences mind for burying Beatrix Kiddo alive. But what Elle Driver does makes one feel sympathetic towards him at the end of it. By now you should have guessed the extent to which Elle Driver would have brutalised Budd. I wont call it brutal. It is the betrayal that is quite threatening than anything else.
Budd turns on the NOISY blender, as Elle writes down the name Paula Schultz on a small notepad, placing it back inside her pocket. As the blender MASHES ICE, Elle looks around and sees the Bride's Hanzo sword in its sheath, leaning up against the T.V. In the front room. Budd shuts the blender off.
ELLE: Can I look at the sword?
BUDD: That's my money in that black case, isn't it?
ELLE: Sure is.
BUDD: Well then, it's your sword now.
The tall blonde girl steps into the living room, takes the Hanzo sword, and sits back down on the kitchen chair. She slowly removes the Japanese steel from its wood sheath.
ELLE: So this, is a Hattori Hanzo sword.
Budd answers as he fills up two former peanut butter jars with breakfast margaritas.
BUDD: That's a Hanzo sword alright.
ELLE: Bill tells me you once had one of your own.
Pause.
BUDD: Once.
ELLE: How does this one compare to that one?
BUDD: If you're gonna compare a Hanzo sword, you compare it to every sword ever made -- wasn't made by Hattori Hanzo. Here, wrap your lips around this.
He hands her her margarita, she takes a sip. He takes a gulp.
BUDD: So, which "R" you filled with?
ELLE: What?
BUDD: They say the number one killer of old people is retirement. People got'em a job to do, they tend to live a little longer so they can do it. I've always figured warriors and their enemies share the same relationship. So now you ain't gonna hafta face your enemy on the battlefield no more, which "R" are you filled with, Relief or Regret?
ELLE: A little bit of both.
BUDD: Bullshit. I'm sure you do feel a little bit of both. But I know damn well you feel one more than you feel the other. The question was which one?
Elle looks right at him with her eye, and says;
ELLE: Regret.
BUDD: Yeah you gotta hand it to the ol' girl. I never saw nobody buffalo Bill the way she buffaloed Bill. Bill useta think she was so damn smart. I tried to tell him... Bill, she's just smart for a blonde.
He looks over at Elle and grins. Elle looks at him.
ELLE: Want your money?
She gestures to the black suitcase by her feet. He smiles and lifts it up on the table, unzipping it open. Lying inside is a cool million, the thousand dollar bills are inside stacks of a hundred thousand each. At the sight of all this lettuce, Budd lets out a whistle.
BUDD: Great day in the morning.
He lifts a stack out of the bag, then another, then another...and when he lifts the third stack out, he looks down and sees a BLACK MAMBA SNAKE coiled underneath. The Black Mamba opens its WIDE JAWS...and LEAPS RIGHT AT BUDD...STRIKING Budd in the face repeatedly in blurred succession (three times in the face, and once in the forearm). Budd topples out of the kitchen chair onto the floor, bundles of money fall with him. Elle takes a sip of her Margarita. The Black Mamba leaves Budd and goes under the refridgerator. Elle looks down, Budd lies on his back on the kitchen floor at her feet. His face is already grotesquely swollen and white as a sheet. The serpent's extraordinarily potent venom makes a full-frontal assault on the cowboys's nervous system.
ELLE: Oh, I'm sorry Budd, that was rude of me wasn't it? Budd -- I'd like to introduce my friend, The Black Mamba. (gesturing towards the refridgerator) Black Mamba -- this is Budd. You know before I picked up that little fella, I looked him up on the internet. (she removes her notepad from her pocket) Fascinating creature the Black Mamba.
Listen to this, (reading from the notepad) "...In Africa, the saying goes, in the bush, an elephant can kill you. A leopard can kill you. And a Black Mamba can kill you. But only with the Mamba, and this has been true in Africa since the dawn of time, is death sure. Hence its handle; Death Incarnate." (looking up from the paper) Pretty cool, huh? (back to paper)"...Its neurotoxic venom is one of nature's most effective poisons, acting on the nervous system causing paralysis. The venom of a Black Mamba can kill a human in four hours, if say bitten on the ankle or the thumb. However, a bite to the face or torso can bring death from paralysis within twenty minutes.
(up from paper to Budd) Now you should listen to this cause this concerns you. (reading from the paper) The amount of venom that can be delivered from a single bit can be gargantuan. (looks up from paper) -- You know I've always liked that word Gargantuan, and I so rarely have an opportunity to use it in a sentence. (back to paper) "If not treated quickly with anti venom, 10 to 15 milligrams can be fatal to human beings. However, the Black Mamba can deliver as much as 100 to 400 milligrams of venom from a single bite."
Elle finishes reading and puts the paper away. She looks down at Budd at her feet, going through all the symptoms she just described.
ELLE: Now in these last agonizing minutes of life you have left, let me answer the question you asked earlier, more thoroughly. When it comes to that bitch, I gotta lotta "R's" in me. Revenge is one. Retribution is another. Rivalry is definitely one. But I got another "R" for that bitch you might be surprised to find out. Respect. But right at this moment, the biggest "R" I feel, is Regret. Regret that maybe the greatest warrior I have ever met, met her end at the hands of a bushwhackin, scrub, alacky piece of shit like you. The woman deserved better.
Budd, dying, watches from the floor as Elle takes out her cell phone and presses one button. The other party comes on the line, but we never hear their side.
ELLE: (into phone) Bill...Elle. I have some tragic news. (pause) Your brother's dead. (pause) I'm sorry baby. She put a Black Mamba in his camper. (pause) I got her, sweety. (pause) She's dead. (pause) Let me put it this way. If you ever start feeling sentimental, go to Austin, Texas. When you get here, walk into a florist and buy a bunch of flowers. Then you take those flowers to Huntington cemetery on Fuller and Guadalupe, look for the headstone marked "Paula Schultz", then lay them on the grave. Because you will be standing at the final resting place of BEATRIX KIDDO.
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