Wednesday, December 16, 2015

A round up of cine lullabies

Here is a blast (that didn't happen) from the past. I wrote this sometime in 2012 when my son was about a year old. I can't remember why I didn't post it. But stumped to come up with something worthy of your time here, I unleash it now for your reading pleasure.

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Getting my son to go to sleep is a stiff challenge that we have to face every single night. At an hour considered late even by adults, he still has enough energy left to pursue athletic ambitions or exhibit his cellphone wizardry, which, at this point is limited to locking it up by keying in random pass codes. As responsible parents, we take a page out of nighttime parenting best practices and choose to unleash a series of lullabies. Conventional logic says that a well fed baby, when subjected to a soft number, sung in a melodious voice, doused in love and rendered with soul will be sound asleep in roughly 5 minutes or less. But we have, much to our annoyance, learned that our son is exempt from this logic.

Over the past few months, on every single night,  I have had the pleasure of listening to a handful of the most popular "evergreen" cine lullabies that have helped screen babies down the ages fall asleep by the second stanza thus paving the way for the parents to either abandon their dreams about a second kid or give vent to a range of their deep seated insecurities. But one thing has become very obvious: star parents can't get babies to sleep to save their lives. On that note, here is my take on the creme de la creme of the cine lullabies in no particular order.

Exhibit 1: chinna chinna kannanukku

Gemini Ganesan starts off with all the right intentions: putting that baby to sleep. But over the first two stanzas, he loses the plot and proceeds to try out multiple, high-octane acrobatic stunts on the kid and ends up looking like someone trying out for the vacancy of a trapeze artist with Gemini Circus. He tosses the baby in the air, swings him around, balances him on the legs, makes him run around with a walker. All the while egged on by two other older kids clapping like crazy and generally enjoying the proceedings with glee that makes watching them distinctly uncomfortable.

To his credit, the baby takes it all with a grin and manages not to throw up his entire dinner all over daddy. My son, on the other hand, would have kicked me where it hurts and fled the scene. Not before emptying the contents of his tummy all over me, of course. But back to the song. The poor baby, after that intense cardio workout, is now all pumped up and wide awake. With the adrenaline rush still coursing through his tiny veins, he is in the mood for some more physical activity and sleep is the last thing on his buzzing mind. But alas, by this time, daddy's intentions have gone haywire. Rather than focus on sleep related topics, he has instead chosen to vent his feelings about his ex-wife/love interest who, by the way, seems to be secretly stalking them from the opposite house. In a dramatic turn to the proceedings, the lyrics veer away from a lullaby to a melancholic ballad and GG begins to shine light on the darker depths of human nature. What better way to doze off than learning that your loving, doting mother is actually an evil woman with a stone heart. Oh, and she is a pre-facebook stalker too.

I haven't watched how the post-lullaby scene plays out but here is my educated guess: Daddy is drowning his sorrows in a bottle of Jack Daniels that he simply can't put down. The two older kids have lulled themselves to sleep with the aid of questionable substances and are sprawled out on the couch while the baby is lying wide awake, plotting to crawl his way out of the hell that he is caught in and check himself into the nearest foster home. Good luck kid!

Exhibit 2: My bad: I don't remember this gem anymore! Will update. 

Everything that can possibly be said about Sivaji Ganesan, the unquestioned emperor of Tamil cinema, has already been said by learned folks. But if the legend was to pour himself a strong one and look back on his stellar career (this is a hypothetical situation, obviously, since he has passed away a good while back), the one role that he would have wanted to improve on would be that of the father singing to his infant kid. This particular role would be the sole chink in his armory. Allow me to explain it with the song.

SG, the daddy in this song appears to be fully equipped in all respects to tuck in the apple of his eye for a good night's sleep. He is wearing a night gown, singing a lullaby and smoking a cigarette. That's right. Big daddy'o has chosen to light up a death stick while putting his offspring to sleep. Nothing says good night better than a cloud of warm, tar laden, smelly, cigarette smoke blown right from daddy's wilting lungs. I'm not a medical expert. But doesn't smoking around an infant cause, again I'm leaning on questionable medical knowledge here, lung cancer?? If you are willing to entirely overlook SG billowing smoke into infant lungs (you totally should not, by the way) just what is daddy trying to do? It is clear, even to the most indifferent viewer, that he is trying to score with his own wife! By casting lascivious glances and mouthing lyrics full of innuendos at his wife, he is busy playing the ancient game of seduction. I suppose he can't hold off until the little one has gone to sleep.

Call me old fashioned but going to bed every night to the sight of your father (in a night gown) running after your mother with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth is perhaps the quickest way to a psychologically scarred future. Most of which will be spent in the cancer ward anyways.

Exhibit 3: chinna paappa

You've got to give it to the casting team for the coup they've pulled off in this number. While the other lullabies were trying to out do each other in casting the leading lady or gent in the role of a doting, loving parent, these guys brainstormed and came up with a radically different idea of a lullaby. The theme is simple: violence. Their daring interpretation assigns bedtime duties to a real badass villain. Their mantra for a good night's sleep is simple: fear. Nothing reassures an infant than looking into the fearsome face of R S Manohar, complete with a twirling mustache and the regulation bad-guy mole adorning his cheek. Why settle for sleep when you can slip into a coma instead? Sweet nightmares!

I haven't watched the movie, but based on how this song starts off, I'm guessing that Manohar, likely under the influence of a few pints of freshly brewed toddy, has just finished raining some blows on both his wife and the daughter. How else do you explain their swollen faces and tears? Having vented his drunken fury on the ladies of the house, he has calmed down enough to retire to the balcony to perhaps repent his doings. But it actually ends up looking like he is ready to pass out anytime. After throwing up all over the place maybe. The wife, besides getting her share of the beatings, now has the unenviable task of putting her equally beat up daughter to sleep. Full marks to the creative team for setting the perfect mood. Their recipe for a blissful night of sleep appears to be some old school beatings and the threat of more physical harm. I'm already yawning from just typing this. Must only work better on kids, I suppose.  

The lyrics seem to be adding insult to injury. Here is a girl that was roughed up by her own dad and look at what her mom who, mind you, was also beaten up, offers her by way of compensation: a silk shirt (to hide the scars?), a Chinese made toy or a balloon (Lesson: Hey, quit complaining! Chinese kids your age get beaten up by their parents and their shift supervisor!). Or a lesson in the ancient game of, get this, hide and seek. Nice try lady but what I think she needs is first aid and a few hours of counselling. On second thoughts, the lessons in hide and seek may actually come in handy should her rowdy daddy decide to get medieval on them again. 

Exhibit 4: chinna chinna roja poove

Technically this is not a lullaby as no one is trying to put a baby to sleep on screen. However, thanks to Ilayaraja and KJY, my son calms down whenever this song plays and hence this gets classified as a lullaby in our home. So just play along.

What sets this one apart from the rest is the way it dispenses some serious bed time lessons on life's realities.

Lesson #1: It is perfectly OK to phone stalk a girl. The song starts off with Sathyaraj placing a prank call. Expressing your love in person is so passe.
Lesson #2: Your dad will die an untimely death. About half way through the song, the doting biological father of the kid is, well, dead. Very reassuring.
Lesson #3: When you think life can't deal you a rougher hand, a very hairy and shirtless Sathyaraj will give you a bath. My retinas hurt every time I watch that scene.
Lesson #4: Child restraints and a driver for a car are optional. This is my personal favorite. The kid is seated without any restraints in an unmanned moving car. And Sathyaraj, who in my opinion, should have been manning the frickin' vehicle, or at least stop it from running away, is instead walking by the side with his hands in his pockets and a heaven-may-care expression on his face. I swear Google stole the idea of self-driving cars from this movie. Fazil beat you to this concept, suckas of Mountain View!

If you manage to fall asleep listening to this song, you are bound to wake up the next morning with the world's burden weighing on the shoulders, more grey hair on your head, a week's stubble on your face and with Sathyaraj for company.Let the good times begin!

Exhibit 5: malarndhum malaradha

No list on lullabies can be complete without doffing your hat to this home runner, the mother of 'em all. Sivaji Ganesan makes a reappearance in this list as the elder brother engaged in a telepathic lullaby session with his little (but equally big) sister. When Sivaji (this time without a cigarette!) and Savithri are vying with one another to sing their respective kids to sleep, what can possibly go wrong? Apparently, as we will see here, everything.

If the team had stopped with only the opening lines, I must admit, this would have been a great lullaby to put kids of all sizes and shapes to a deep sleep. But alas, greed got the better of the movie makers. In a perfect example of more-is-bad, they went on to make this whole song around those very lines and quickly spoiled it for everyone. Let's dive deep.

Brother and sister engage in this telepathic sob-fest trying to outdo one another, amidst copious tears, in extolling the finer aspects of their sibling love to their respective kids. Sweet. Repeat after me: Sleep = 2 parts tears + 1 part family problems and two XXL-sized parents trying to out-sob each other. 

Between the two kids, I must say the one at Savithri’s end has it relatively easy. His mother may be sad and in tears but is at least making a feeble attempt to put him to sleep. The other kid with Sivaji, unfortunately, has got the short end of the lullaby stick. On top of the stifling sorrow that is being whipped up around him, he has to put up with a creepy looking dad. Yes, for some reason Sivaji is sporting an extra thick eyebrow. I haven't watched this movie but perhaps he was playing a dacoit with a mid-life crisis? At one point towards the end of the song, the dad is lying spreadeagled on the floor yet busily singing while the kid is wide awake by his side with a "Now, where the hell did I put that bottle of novocaine?" expression on his face. Cute. 

Lullabies, by virtue of their slow cadence, often prove to be a good vehicle to convey sorrow. And the Tamil cine world has cashed in on it big time, perhaps to appeal to the female movie watching demographic. A note to the screen parents: If you are in a really bad mood, please wait till the kids fall asleep. On their own, I mean. Then either get on the phone with your love/ex/wife/sister/brother and sort out your relationship problems. Or if that isn't an option, simply retire to your study with a strong drink. Either ways, just leave the kids alone.

With that off my perfectly sculpted chest, I'm now off to sleep. 

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

The storm provides...*


An opportunity to introspect

When I was in college, I was secretly happy when all the IT and automobile industries made a beeline to Chennai. People come to Chennai. People make money. People want houses. And that river bed that has been dry for all these years looks tempting. And building luxury villas on the dried up lake bed doesn't seem to be that bad of an idea after all. After all, we're told that greed is good. An affordable house with all the latest amenities and an Italian or Spanish inspired name that is a ten-minute drive from all points in the city? Well, something had to give. It was a comforting thought that all these years of rampant, reckless "development" was a victim-less crime. Until now. While it is easy to point accusing fingers at the political system and bureaucracy, one must acknowledge that they were active facilitators. We the consumers must share our portion of the blame. The show of humanity was indeed heartwarming but we brought it upon ourselves. If we are willing to listen, there are lessons for everyone around. 

An opportunity for political change

Tamilnadu has always had a two-party system in place. It is not a bad thing per se. But the two parties happen to be DMK and ADMK: the mother of all double whammies. Together with the others in the political cirucs, they have taken turns in raping the state and Chennai has particularly borne the brunt. A political dispensation without these two parties has always been a pipe dream in the state. But with a population simmering in (sufficiently) righteous rage, a different regime seems like an idea whose time has come. Now, in my opinion as someone with only an emotional connect to the city, any party with the dreaded D-word is not worthy of a chance. And, in keeping with the flavor of the season, I will seek political asylum in Syria should the communists come to power in TN. Anyone game for a pot pourri coalition with the BJP in the driver's seat?

A chance to rethink emergency preparedness

We have seen it many times now. The Mumbai floods. The carnage on 26/11. Then the Kashmir floods. And now the Chennai deluge. The government machinery, once out of the initial paralysis, sputters to life and works in fits and starts relying on outdated, inadequate mechanisms. Right from clearing the glass shards at an accident site to taking on international terrorists, the government always turns up with a sword to a gunfight. There were 18 different phone numbers being published for the various departments for relief when hardly any phones were working. Call this the rant of the NRI but you don't really need much more than common sense in most cases to make a difference. I’m not smart enough to offer solutions here but I’m sure there are many there available with expertise and experience. If only someone will map the right people on to the right jobs, based on merit only.

Another chance to take potshots at the media

Talking about common sense, one cannot fail to mention the role of the media in a disaster of this scale. While the national media was busy discussing intolerance and Amir Khan's possible departure from India, the local media - a euphemism for the many parties' mouthpieces - was busy pushing their respective agendas over providing an accurate picture of the ground reality. Much of the time, the narrative won over actual news that was happening. If you shove a microphone into the face of someone standing in chest deep water and ask him about government relief work, I daresay the response will be fairly obvious. Similarly, flood montages with a particularly sorrowful Western classical violin composition for the background? Depending on which outlet you were tuned into, it was either a party out there or the apocalypse was here with very little content that really mattered. I’m willing to overlook all this (I’m just kidding) if the reporters at least spoke coherent, good Tamil. Often times the flood victims were more articulate and sounded reasonable. Sigh.

Opportunity for mirth

Kamal Hassan's first statement querying the whereabouts of our taxes, even if ill-timed, was valid. A pointed question that put the government of the day in a tighter situation than it already found itself in. The response was along predictable lines: quick, crass and unrefined. Just when you thought that it was time to move on came the volte face from Kamal distancing himself from his previous, alleged statement. As far as TN is concerned, politics and movies continue to be joined at the hip but sharing only half a spine between them. Leave it to our politicians and actors to up the humor quotient in the face of disaster.


 *The title is a line I stole from the Disney movie The Good Dinosaur


Saturday, December 5, 2015

Chennai Super Kings and Queens

"Indira Nagar varuveengala?" I ask the driver of the Bajaj RE auto that I have just flagged. He's wearing a khaki shirt with no name badge and lungi to go with it and his auto's rear is blocking a lane nearly fully.

"Indira Nagar-ah saar? Indira Nagar- la enga?" Perhaps giving him the latitude and longitude coordinates would help. "You're not launching a precision missile strike. For heaven's sake Indira Nagar has 2 main roads and admittedly a maddening labyrinth of cross streets woven around them!" I mean to say but better judgement kicks in and I bite my tongue.

"Water tank pakkathula." I begin.

"Drop-ah return-ah saar?" he asks for a critical piece of clarification while he eyes my appearance, my attire, whether I have a laptop or an ID card or display any other tell tale signs of being associated with the IT industry, proceeds to weigh up the location and then starts arriving at an exorbitant fare.

"Drop." I persist, although I'm beginning to get impatient.

"Return empty-a varanam saar" he now stares into the middle distance as his brain starts the algorithm for what will be the walk-away fare for me.

"Busy area dhaanga. Kandippa savaari kedaikkum" Screw you man, I'll walk there if needed rather than engage you.

"Polaam saar" he agrees with a nod, smoothly slipping the auto into first gear confirming that his mind is now made up.

"Evvlonga?" I pop the all important question with all the no-nonsense, stiff nosed look that I can muster to set his expectations right.

"Two fifty kudunga saar" he spells out the first fare with enough sticker shock to knock the pants off a non-Chennai person. And he immediately launches into a mini lecture on crude oil prices, road traffic patterns in Chennai, El Nino effects, the state of the European economy...while the electronic fare meter sits behind him, neatly wrapped in a yellow cloth.

Fleecing auto drivers, the famous stench as the train nears Basin Bridge, bad weather and Dravidian politics. Yes we have the second longest beach and our cricketing crowds are knowledgeable, but there is really not much that the average Chennai-ite can be proud about daily life here to defend against the often unwarranted, nose-in-the-air attitude of the rest of India. Apathy, indifference and a healthy dose of disrespect to the fellow citizen are not mere characteristics of the Chennai-vasi. They are survival tactics honed over years to cope against the grind of daily life. Armed with a copy of the day's newspaper, bottomless cups of coffee and three mega serials, the typical Chennai person knows how to insulate himself from society and the other person.

Until the first week of December 2014. When the heavens opened up like never before.

Torrential rains and flooded localities are not new to Chennai. Every year brings with it problems from both extremes of water supply: floods and scarcity. But this time it really was different. Years of thumbing our noses to nature had caught up finally. The furious rain Gods cranked it up and Chennai had seen nothing like this before.

Special times call for special efforts and I am simply blown away by how Chennai has shaken off its usual cloak of coldness, rallied together as one city and stood together to start picking up the pieces of life blown to smithereens by a calamity of hitherto unknown scale. And the attitude shown by the common man in the face of bad city planning, lax preparedness, official mishandling of relief and absent leadership is nothing less than exemplary.

List of volunteers and their locations popped up everywhere. Critical information was being shared quickly. Relief and requirements got mapped with a passion. Volunteers, friends, family, strangers came together to rescue people and animals, set up community kitchens, distribute relief supplies, check on families, relay information and just extend a helping hand wherever needed. Technology was merely a facilitator but, make no mistake, it was humanity that shone bright under the grey skies. This disaster has brought a hidden, humane side to Chennai for everyone to see.

That it took a monster tragedy to bring this about is sad and perhaps normal service would resume once the flood recedes. But years from now, what will remain is how the people rose up as one when it really mattered. And for that, take a bow Madras! Proud of you folks!