Wolf-whistling for the villains!

I am not just bad. I am evil.
This happened to be the WhatsApp statuses of many of my friends after the film Thani Oruvan released. 
The statement is a line uttered by the antagonist of the film and many of my friends who watched the film, fell madly in love with the antagonist - a rich and intelligent scientist who is driven by greed and who does not give a second's thought to go down the illegal path to monetize the medical world. 
What's not to like in such a character?!

After the release of the film Jigarthanda, almost every person who had watched it wanted to go on and on about only one character - Assault Sethu - the antagonist. 
This, in a film with 26 primary and secondary characters as per the Wikipedia 'Cast' list.
Why so much adoration for a Madurai gangster who does not bat an eyelid for killing one of his own men?
He's ruthless. He's merciless. He's conscienceless.
What's not to like in such a character?! 

Would there be a person who had watched The Dark Knight and did not like the Joker?!
Heath Ledger's performance was spellbinding. Agreed.
But was it the only reason we fell in love with the Joker?!

The recently released Suicide Squad trailer has managed to garner 33.5 million views in about 2 weeks.
Letting the Bohemian Rhapsody play in the background was a genius touch. Agreed. 
But was it the only reason we fell in love with the trailer?!
Speaking about trailers, lets take the Deadpool trailer for instance. 
How great it is to see a superhero who is as irresponsible as a toddler instead of getting to hear him/her ramble about virtues and principles like a school teacher!
With great power comes great irresponsibility - How cool a tagline!
Speaking about superheroes, why has the The Avengers duology been so huge a success?!
Let's consider the 3 most liked characters of the Avengers assemble. 
Iron Man - Egomaniac and Playboy.
Hulk - Anger Management issues.
Black Widow - Manipulation expert. 
How many of us really drool over Captain America who is a personification of goodness?! 
It is fascinating to see a man turn into a monster rather than seeing a man hold up a shield, isn't it?!

Why have we fallen in love with Jack Sparrow?!
Why have we fallen in love with Hans Landa?!
Why have we fallen in love with Hannibal Lecter?!
Why have we fallen in love with Darth Vader?!
Why have we fallen in love with Walter White?!
Why have we fallen in love with Gregory House?!

Why have we always loved heist films?!
Why have we always loved gangster films?!

Why has the casting of an antagonist attained considerable importance of late?!
A villain is no more a mere foil to the hero. 
Most of the villain characters are more sophisticated than the heroes'. 
Do the filmmakers feel that the audience likes to see a powerful villain more than a powerful hero?!

How do we find the answers to all the above questions?!
I could write a paragraph on narcissism. I could write a paragraph on capitalism. I could write a paragraph wondering if the admiration for villains is a result of various thoughts locked up in a corner like the old Golu dolls locked up in many Tamil houses for most part of the year.
But why go to so much trouble?!
The next time you come across a really fascinating antagonist in a film, fall in love with him/her and allow yourself some guilty pleasure.
But when you come across a really noble protagonist and after a point, in the film, if you cannot tolerate his/her sacrifices and magnanimous deeds any further and you feel like slapping your forehead and saying, "No person can be this good!", try closing your eyes and recalling the questions above.
You might not end up with all the answers.
But you would definitely end up uncovering a few Golu dolls.

Mini tiffin & Mini celebrations

When you walk on a dimly lit road after a nearly 12-hour 'work' day, a lot of thoughts fight for attention in your head. Even if the beautiful 'Tum Saath ho..'  from the film Tamasha is playing through your headphones. 
Thoughts about an article read in the morning. Thoughts about Deepika Padukone. Thoughts about the people who work all night to lay new roads. Thoughts about the client feedback for the day's work that would reach the inbox the next morning. Thoughts about dinner. 
Unfortunately, the last thought process almost always emerges the winner in grabbing attention. It has a loyal accomplice in the form of a grumble from the stomach which then sets in motion a recollection of all the vegetables and raw material available at the flat for cooking. 

Standing with the head bowed down in respect to the induction stove, allowing the fingers to play with mustard seeds/cumin seeds/turmeric powder/chilly powder/salt and adding the wrong ingredient in the wrong proportion, letting the hand holding a ladle to exhibit a hurried hula hoop dance to ensure that the dish does not get over-fried, thinking of every possible way to make the dish eatable when it goes awfully wrong (adding sugar to an over-fried dish helps!) - Only a bachelor setting out on a 'cooking' journey can testify to the strange joy such a process provides. 
Also, only the same bachelor can testify to the extremely large handful that every flatmate takes out of a dish (prepared for a single person) with the help of a very simple statement - "Chumma oru vaai taste thaane da paakren...". 
If you prepare a dish for yourself in a flat with 6 other flatmates, you will be the only person really 'tasting' the dish with a small handful of it. All others would be busy burping. 

Such a thought is never encouraging. 
Especially when you see a bright light at the end of the dimly lit road - the light originating from a popular and good South Indian restaurant. 
Finding a good South Indian restaurant in Bangalore is similar to finding an Indian engineering student who took up engineering because he/she happily wanted to. 

After you step into the restaurant, it would not be your mistake if you first notice the less-in-hunger-more-in-love couples seated all across the place. 
They would be seated so close to each other that you would want to snap a photograph and send it to the 'Fevicol' manufacturers asking them to add a simple tagline - Inaithidume Idhayangalai - before putting it up on a billboard. 

But to be honest, one does not really feel bad about not being in a relationship when the stomach is creating its own symphony.
Hunger is a good companion that way.

Idly, Dosa, Pongal, Vada - For some reason, choosing between these seems very difficult in comparison to choosing between a roti and a paratha and a naan. 
The Idly is as soft as a newborn's tummy. The Dosa is as thin as a butterfly's wing. The Pongal always is a little island floating in ghee. The Vada is so crispy that crunching it would wake up a corpse.
How do you choose?
It is never as easy as selecting a shirt in a textile shop.
And hence is available an option - Mini tiffin. 
You get an Idly. You get a mini Dosa. You get a mini Vada. And a spoonful of Pongal that would leave even a crow hungry. 
But why complain?! 
Getting a cup of sambhar with these that does not contain coconut or is not sweet is in itself a blessing. 
The sambhar served in the hotels of Karnataka have actually made me despise sweets.

But why go through such a word-struggle for a simple and heavenly mini tiffin?!
Well, it's not just about food. It never is.
After I finished eating, after I finished observing how one of the waiters kept looking longingly at a kaju kathli placed in the opposite counter, I washed my hands and walked out of the restaurant. 
As I stepped out, I saw a girl of about 8-10 years of age walking towards the restaurant with her mother. There was a wide smile pasted over the girl's face and her face was gleaming so much that she could be mistook in a Tamil horror film for being possessed by a spirit. 

I watched the mother- daughter pair. 
They stopped outside the restaurant. The daughter chuckled. The mother smiled. "Are we really eating here?!" - the daughter asked. The mother nodded. The daughter grabbed her mother's hand and swinging it wildly, she entered the restaurant. 
The restaurant did not just mean food for the girl. It was a celebration.

I couldn't help remembering my jubilant march, as a kid, every time my mother took me to a restaurant. 
I wondered why the celebration had departed me. 
The list of reasons that popped up in my head seemed lengthier than the Quality Checklists I prepare at office. 
Perhaps I needed to prepare a Quality Checklist for my life. 
The little things were getting missed. 
The very little things that make a life richer. The very little things so important in the grand scheme.

A dawn dilemma..

Waking up to embrace nature in its true undisturbed form is a blessing.
For some reason, many of my friends take pride in stating that they have been a witness to just a handful of sunrises in their lifetime. Oversleeping seems to be a honorary badge they are proud of wearing.
I feel compelled, at times, to explain the beauty of a newly born morning to them. 
But waking up before the sun comes out, walking a few miles to find a landscape untampered by cement and gravel and losing oneself to the human-less silence is a bliss better left to be described by Wordsworth and Walden.

In the midst of such experiences, there always exists an inner conflict - Should I capture the moment or just be in it?!

The soul wants to just be. 

The ego wants to create an evidence. 

There are days when the soul wins and there are days when the winner is the ego.

I try hard to control the outcome.

But the alternating victories seem necessary.

The artist needs the human and the human needs the artist.

Some brainy blah blah...

It happened to me on the first day of my college
It happened to me on the last day of my college
It happened to me the moment I realized I had fallen in love
It happened to me the day I came across an old woman, asking for alms, with a close resemblance to my grandmother
It happened to me the moment I told my mom that I had been recruited by a reputed organization
It happens to me every time I think of raising my camera to my eye in a crowded street
It happens to me every time a new thought takes birth

The stomach feels empty when in truth it is stuffed
The heart seems to be missing its rhythm when in truth it is throbbing in tune
The vision becomes blurry when in truth the pupil is dilated
The brain goes blank when in truth the neurons are hyperactive
The hand starts trembling when in truth the fist is clenched

I try to think about all such moments
They appear surprisingly similar yet they are starkly different
Joy. Pain. Fear.
They are miles apart in the emotional spectrum
Yet they seem as closely bonded as a community in rural India

I remain bewitched by the workings of the human brain
By its simplistic sophistication, by its mechanical magic
By the way it makes a person crack a joke
By the way it brings about a spontaneous comical response to a totally new situation
My friend once asked me the first thing I would say after a girl kissed me on the lips
I replied after a couple of seconds - "Ünga toothpaste la uppu irukka?!"
Sarcasm intended, but how did the response crop up so spontaneously?!
How do you crack jokes so well?
How does your friend crack jokes so well?
Next time, have a hearty laugh. And follow it up with some thought.
Wonder how the brain is such a good humorist
Wonder how the brain has a template in place to process the emotions
Wonder if the brain has an amazing brain of its own
Wonder how you wonder.

P.S.: I have been left wondering how my brain came up with the thought of 'A brain having its own brain'. 

Why I Write

"What do you write?" 
Many people have asked me this question after learning that I write. And my answers have varied greatly. 
Random stuff. Whatever interests me. Majorly philosophical. 
Why shouldn't my answers vary?!
Not every person listens attentively - One very important realization that turned out to be a major reason for me starting a blog. 
I was so narcissistic in believing that I was really smart and had loads of interesting/innovative/enlightening thoughts to be shared.
Probably true. Probably not.

A few of my colleagues smoke. One colleague to the extent of 4-5 cigarettes per day. 
I wanted to know the reason behind so many puffs of tobacco and asked him the same one day.
"It's difficult to explain..  It's..It's more like... It's something which helps you more than you think it does.. It's more like meditation.. Breathe in, breathe out..It helps you be normal.."
I could relate with his reply.
After all, I experience the very same thing whenever I smoke words. Every inhalation of a thought and every exhalation of a statement clears up my mind. 
Writing is my smoke on a chilly evening with a hot cup of tea. 
Writing is my meditation.

In the dark days after my failed romance, there were many things that kept me going. 
One of which was anonymous blogs where people shared their (failed) love stories and hoards of other personal moments. 
Reading the stories gave me hope.  
The hope that takes birth in a man stranded on a lonely island when he sees another man swimming towards him from a capsized boat.
And I want(ed) my writings to be such a source of hope for a guy from Turkey or a girl from Taiwan or a transsexual from Texas.
At times, it feels easier to connect with strangers than with the people constantly around you. Especially with the written word. Especially when in pain.

There is a general belief that when a person really likes doing something, he/she needs to pursue it as a career. 
Fair enough. 
But what about the irrepressible fear that denies to leave the person and continues threatening that he/she might not be really good at something he/she loves doing?!
How does one overcome this?!
I wish I could suggest a simple solution. But things do not work that way. 
Clarity in life is not attained by a blog post. It requires considerable introspection. And also a tinge of craziness.
I learnt it the hard way.
I started writing because I could.
I continued writing because I wanted to.
I write now because I have to. 

En route to becoming a proud Chennaite....

I was filled with guilt last week for various reasons. 
One cause was my previous post. One cause was under-average work at office.
But the main reason was the bright sunny mornings I was waking up to. 

The sun's rays, lighting up one half of the balcony at my flat, made me sad because my hometown that was famous for its sunny days was experiencing so bad a phase of rainfall that the people were praying desperately for the sun to smile again. 
I am sure that unless you are a resident of Chennai, you would not understand the severity of the statement.
A Chennaite praying for a sunny day is similar to an Indian homosexual coming out in the open with his/her sexual orientation. 
It almost never happens and if in case it does, it shows you the extent to which things have gotten worse.  

When things get worse, when a war breaks out, when nature decides to give a tiny vent to its anger, being surrounded by his/her loved ones becomes a major source of hope for a person. 
However strange it might seem (or perhaps not!), knowing that you would face the very final moments of your life by the side of a loved one makes the scenario a lot better than facing the same alone. 
Which is why, I underwent a new struggle living safely 350 kilometers away from the floods which every person who mattered in my life was fighting against.
Strangely, I was able to understand the struggle a mother/wife/son/daughter of an army soldier has to go through every day. 

Are the people of Chennai fighting against floods? Yes. But the battle is not as simple as that. There is more to the fight than wading through chest-high water. 
The real strength of a community comes to the front when it rises back again from a calamity. The real strength of a community comes to the front when the common man starts setting examples to the rulers. 
The common man is misunderstood quite often. 
He might be a person who does not offer his seat to an old man in a bus. But that does not mean he is incapable of carrying the same old man on his shoulders in a street filled with so much water that it transforms cars into submarines. 
He might be a person who holds numerous grudges against his neighbor. But that does not mean he is incapable of feeding his neighbors as they are huddled together in the terrace, hoping that the water that had entered their homes would recede.
He might be a person who does not give a second thought about destroying forests. But that does not mean he is incapable of performing such an act. (I just had to share this picture. The real Baahubali, perhaps)

I have always believed that adversity is of utmost importance for a positive change.

Anything really beautiful has a pain filled story behind it. Like a child that does not see this world unless the mother suffers greatly. Like a heartwarming story that does not reach this world unless the artist loses a part of himself.

Hence, I believe that the floods, in spite of all the havoc that they cause(d), are a boon to Chennai.

They would give way to better buildings. They would give way to better drainage systems. They would give way to better planning of residential areas. 

And they would also give way to something more essential. 

Nobler humans.

Which I look forward to eagerly.

In no time, I am going to be a really proud Chennaite - much prouder than I am right now.

Killing the conscience...

Imagine you are waiting at a traffic signal on your vehicle. The signal shows red. You know that you have to wait till the signal turns green. But the road ahead is empty. And your mind starts oscillating - should you wait or should you go ahead? Fear of overstepping traffic rules scares you. Imagine at such a point that a car arrives behind you. The driver of the car starts sounding his horn. He wants you to not pay heed to the signal and go ahead. What do you do then? Do you start your vehicle and drive ahead or do you shout at the car driver for not respecting the traffic rules? 
If you do the first, you would have to ride the rest of your journey with guilt as your fellow passenger. If you do the second, you would end up hurting the car driver. Who knows what kind of a situation the car driver is in? He might be required to reach his destination really quick. What do you do?
You end up doing the only thing which seems right to you. You start your vehicle, move a bit so that the car driver rides ahead and wait till the signal turns green. And at such a point, as you wait for the green circle of light, you get stranded on a strange place - you get stranded on the middle of the road. 
When you think back as to why you ended up on the middle of the road, the answer appears pretty simple - you did not want to be a bad person. You wanted to respect the traffic rules and you also wanted to make peace with the car driver. But take a look at the result. 
What if you had not had a strong conscience? Would you have cared for the traffic rules? Or would you have given thought about the car driver's situation? You would have simply lashed out at him. 
Either way, the journey would have been a lot easier. 

If these are the complications that the conscience can create at a traffic signal, imagine the complications that arise in friendships and relationships. 
And things only get a lot worse when you are an humanist.
Being a believer in God makes life easy. If you commit a mistake, you have someone to pray to. If you hurt a person, you have someone to request for forgiveness. But if you are unable to believe in God, if humans are the only Gods you believe in, whom do you pray to?
Such a fear makes you want to stay as good a person as you can be. But at what cost?
Every time you refrain yourself from hurting another person, every time you suppress your anger, every time you try to remain a good person even when the odds are stacked against you, a part of you withers away in uncontrollable pain as another part feels good about itself, lauding its altruism.
Should a person continue being good if it comes at such a cost?
Ideally, yes. But it would make sense if others also tried being good. 
If the people around you do not try being so, injustice starts creeping in. How can you raise a sword against a person holding a machine gun?

At times, things reach a point where you want to pluck the conscience from inside, grab a strong rope and strangle it till it dies. Things would get a lot easier.
Why roam around carrying your conscience amidst a crowd that has consciously locked the conscience in a cupboard?
Why try being a good person in a society where being good causes nothing but hurt? 
The video below shows what happens when you try removing a barrier in order to make way for an ambulance. 

Why try being good when it causes so much hurt?

Can you keep your conscience and yourself happy at the same time? One has to give way to the other. So, which one would it be?

When I started typing this post, I had decided to end it with the previous question. But my mind seems to have undergone a change. After watching the above video again.

Yes. Being good hurts. But if I decided against it, I would have nothing to believe in. Not even humanity. Which scares me.
I do not want to go back to worshiping a higher power though it would make my life easier. 
I choose pain instead. I choose humans.
How bad a situation can being good get me in?
Extreme hurt and death is a possibility. Or worse, another post like this.
Frankly, I am scared only of the latter.