Year 1998 - I was 5 years old and I lived in a town called Polur. I had been denied admission into UKG at a school in Nasik, (don't laugh, it happened :-P ) on grounds that I was younger than the age limit for admissions. My family decided that I should stay with my grandparents and continue my education( kindergarden, haha!!). It was then that I began to adore my grandpa. He was a great and vibrant personality. There was this swift efficiency about him, that I liked the most. A partner at tv(he'd watch cartoons with me at 60, mind you! :-D), chess and carrom. He'd daily drop me at school and pick me up back from it. I had great love, respect and admiration for my grandpa as most of the townsfolk had. My grandpa was a well-known man in his time, at one point of time being the District Educational Officer(DEO) and practically knew most of the townsfolk.
Year 2000 - Two years passed, and my parents moved to Tambaram and I came back to living with them. After that, my grandparents would visit me frequently, my grandpa more often than both my grandparents because my grandpa did a lot of travelling.
In the following years, I'd always enjoy the days when grandpa visited me. We'd talk for a lot of time. He was a strict disciplinarian though he never bet or scolded me. That stare was enough to make me understand what he meant.
He had this peculiar habit of not telling of his visits for most of the times, intending to surprise me. I seldom was; because the white Ambassador car would stand with pride, pride commensurate of its owner, my grandpa.
Year 2011 March- As I was returning from college, I saw a white Ambassador that stood silently at the entrance of my apartment, the same exact place. My heart leaped with joy. "Grandpa is here!! :-)". But alas!
Year 2008 August- Grandpa slipped and fell down and hurt his head. He came down with a stroke with a hand and leg paralysed. It was unbelievable and shocking to see a man of such pride and confidence lay bed-ridden. He endured 8 long months, through my 11th std. He breathed his last during the last week of April 2009.
That one second of joy made me realize just how much I miss him. I miss you thatha.. Love you loads! :'(
Dedicated to my grandfather - H. Mahadeva Iyer. Proud to be your grandson.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
You may order what you please!
Another of Agatha Christie's books, another blog post. :P This time around, the book was "The ABC Murders". And, here is an excerpt from the book.
' "If you could order a crime as one orders a dinner, what would you choose?"
I(Captain Hastings) fell in with his(Hercule Poirot) humour.
'Let me see now. Let's review the menu. Robbery? Forgery? No, I think not. Rather too vegetarian. It must be murder - red-blooded murder - with trimmings, of course.'
'Naturally, The hors d'oeuvres.'
'Who shall the victim be - man or woman? Man, I think. Some big-wig. American millionaire. Prime Minister. Newspaper proprietor. Scene of the crime - well, what's wrong with the good old library? Nothing like it for the atmosphere. As for the weapon - well, it might be a curiously twisted dagger - or some blunt instrument - a carved stone idol -'
Poirot sighed.
'Or, of course,'I sighed, 'there's poison - but that's so technical. Or a revolver shot echoing in the night. There must be a beautiful girl or two-'
'With auburn hair,' murmured my friend.
'Your same old joke.One of the beautiful girls, of course, must unjustly be suspected - and there's some misunderstanding between her and the young man. And then of course, there must be other suspects - an older woman - dark, dangerous type - and some friend or rival of the dead man's - and a quiet secretary - dark horse - and a hearty man with a bluff manner - and a couple of discharged servants or gamekeepers or somethings - and a damn fool of a detective rather like Japp - and well - that's about all.'
Poirot looked at me sadly.
'You have made there a very pretty resume of nearly all the detective stories that have ever been written.'
.
.
.
.
.
'................... You have quite the melodramatic soul, Hastings. You would like, not one murder, but a series of murders.'
Now, what's with the excerpt? The fact is that it brought about me a very similar description, of something that I know, we all know. Let me illustrate.
'Let me see now. Let's review the menu. A celebrity talk show? A reality show? No, I think not. Rather too short. It must be melodrama - tear brimming melodrama - with trimmings, of course.'
'Who shall the main character be? Man or woman? Woman, I think. A happy family, nothing out of the ordinary, preferably, lower middle class. There must be this sick grandma or unemployed father at home. A neighbour that is there always to comfort and to criticize. Ah, a drunkard or a shady businessman - And, there's this friend of the main character's - from college or from work, preferably from work. A kind that would take jealousy for an attribute quite well to be mentioned in a CV. And, then there's this thing what everyone calls the "SUDDEN TWIST OF FATE", a member of the family takes ill, or the lead is about to be married off. Problems, more problems. Comes in autos, buses, trains and taxis.!"
I say "Et voila, you have a perfect soap-opera! A blend of the infinitely draggy, problem-centred, depressive, addictive already existing ones!" Collect all the tears from tv and you would find a Chennai with no water trouble for the next decade!! :P
Yet, there are people who are so void of a pass-time that they will see even the most damned of these soap-operas. God save the lot!
As for the book, I enjoyed it - as I did the other of her works. So, if you were to order a television programme as one orders dinner, what would you order?
\* unleash your thoughts */
' "If you could order a crime as one orders a dinner, what would you choose?"
I(Captain Hastings) fell in with his(Hercule Poirot) humour.
'Let me see now. Let's review the menu. Robbery? Forgery? No, I think not. Rather too vegetarian. It must be murder - red-blooded murder - with trimmings, of course.'
'Naturally, The hors d'oeuvres.'
'Who shall the victim be - man or woman? Man, I think. Some big-wig. American millionaire. Prime Minister. Newspaper proprietor. Scene of the crime - well, what's wrong with the good old library? Nothing like it for the atmosphere. As for the weapon - well, it might be a curiously twisted dagger - or some blunt instrument - a carved stone idol -'
Poirot sighed.
'Or, of course,'I sighed, 'there's poison - but that's so technical. Or a revolver shot echoing in the night. There must be a beautiful girl or two-'
'With auburn hair,' murmured my friend.
'Your same old joke.One of the beautiful girls, of course, must unjustly be suspected - and there's some misunderstanding between her and the young man. And then of course, there must be other suspects - an older woman - dark, dangerous type - and some friend or rival of the dead man's - and a quiet secretary - dark horse - and a hearty man with a bluff manner - and a couple of discharged servants or gamekeepers or somethings - and a damn fool of a detective rather like Japp - and well - that's about all.'
Poirot looked at me sadly.
'You have made there a very pretty resume of nearly all the detective stories that have ever been written.'
.
.
.
.
.
'................... You have quite the melodramatic soul, Hastings. You would like, not one murder, but a series of murders.'
Now, what's with the excerpt? The fact is that it brought about me a very similar description, of something that I know, we all know. Let me illustrate.
'Let me see now. Let's review the menu. A celebrity talk show? A reality show? No, I think not. Rather too short. It must be melodrama - tear brimming melodrama - with trimmings, of course.'
'Who shall the main character be? Man or woman? Woman, I think. A happy family, nothing out of the ordinary, preferably, lower middle class. There must be this sick grandma or unemployed father at home. A neighbour that is there always to comfort and to criticize. Ah, a drunkard or a shady businessman - And, there's this friend of the main character's - from college or from work, preferably from work. A kind that would take jealousy for an attribute quite well to be mentioned in a CV. And, then there's this thing what everyone calls the "SUDDEN TWIST OF FATE", a member of the family takes ill, or the lead is about to be married off. Problems, more problems. Comes in autos, buses, trains and taxis.!"
I say "Et voila, you have a perfect soap-opera! A blend of the infinitely draggy, problem-centred, depressive, addictive already existing ones!" Collect all the tears from tv and you would find a Chennai with no water trouble for the next decade!! :P
Yet, there are people who are so void of a pass-time that they will see even the most damned of these soap-operas. God save the lot!
As for the book, I enjoyed it - as I did the other of her works. So, if you were to order a television programme as one orders dinner, what would you order?
\* unleash your thoughts */
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Beginning
It was just yesterday that I finished this very wonderful book called "Towards Zero" by Agatha Christie. A very wonderful book indeed, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. The final twist to things - the random prospect making all the difference that's needed was so wonderfully characteristic of the 'Queen Of Crime'. But then, more than all that, one other thing stays and triggers a thought in my mind. It is a quote from the book.
"I like a good detective story; But you know, they begin in the wrong place! They begin with the murder. But the murder is the end. The story begins long before that - years before sometimes - with all the causes and events that bring certain people to a certain place at a certain time on a certain day. All converging towards a given spot. Zero Hour."
A very nice quote.
Now, if I were the author, where would I have begun? Is it the scene of murder that decides the prelude of events or do the train of events converge in murder? Now, for a real-time situation, it is at all times, the latter; But what about the fictional case? Where would it have begun? Now, I don't want the answer, because in most cases, the light of fact, just takes away the bliss of ignorant wonder,( ain't I right?) But, if someone were to read this post, and on their mind, were to come a thought of leaving a comment, I would like to know the answer.
Now, did I start writing this post, in view of others' comments? Or did I, just to express my own thoughts?
Befuddled, to find the answer.
\* unleash your thoughts */
"I like a good detective story; But you know, they begin in the wrong place! They begin with the murder. But the murder is the end. The story begins long before that - years before sometimes - with all the causes and events that bring certain people to a certain place at a certain time on a certain day. All converging towards a given spot. Zero Hour."
A very nice quote.
Now, if I were the author, where would I have begun? Is it the scene of murder that decides the prelude of events or do the train of events converge in murder? Now, for a real-time situation, it is at all times, the latter; But what about the fictional case? Where would it have begun? Now, I don't want the answer, because in most cases, the light of fact, just takes away the bliss of ignorant wonder,( ain't I right?) But, if someone were to read this post, and on their mind, were to come a thought of leaving a comment, I would like to know the answer.
Now, did I start writing this post, in view of others' comments? Or did I, just to express my own thoughts?
Befuddled, to find the answer.
\* unleash your thoughts */
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
A waver of thought :D
It was a summer morning( :P, today morning) and I was driving on the GST road. Twas too good a weather to concentrate just on the empty black road and so the process of thought waver began. I noticed a tree which looked like a "Flame Of The Forest" just as I crossed the National Siddha Institute. Its red flare seemed to contradict the blue composure of the sky behind. Then, I noticed a couple of people crossing the road while the signal was still green for vehicles and I thought "kaalangarthaala enna thaan apdi avasaramo!!"("What could possibly be the hurry so early in the morning!!"). A few many buses, cars and two-wheelers shared the black space below our wheels. Thus I was noticing a few things and giving my own opinions about them on my mind.
Then, I heard a low thud. And the sound of aluminium being hammered. A quick glance at the side was all it took to realise the situation. A young man, probably in his thirties, and headed for office, had probably had some thought wavers just like me and to his misfortune, had rammed into the barricade that narrows down the lane below the MIT bridge. No serious damage, thank goodness :)
After that, did the realisation came. "Its your lucky day that you weren't the guy who rammed the barricade"........
The next immediate thought was "However fine the weather is, look at the road and only the road!" :P
DRIVE SAFE.
\* unleash your thoughts */
Then, I heard a low thud. And the sound of aluminium being hammered. A quick glance at the side was all it took to realise the situation. A young man, probably in his thirties, and headed for office, had probably had some thought wavers just like me and to his misfortune, had rammed into the barricade that narrows down the lane below the MIT bridge. No serious damage, thank goodness :)
After that, did the realisation came. "Its your lucky day that you weren't the guy who rammed the barricade"........
The next immediate thought was "However fine the weather is, look at the road and only the road!" :P
DRIVE SAFE.
\* unleash your thoughts */
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