India at the Olympics

Two medals. Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? No.

Time to close our rather bare medals cupboard with a sigh and move on (to cricket). And start writing pieces complaining about the lack of infrastructure, official apathy, cultural/social/gender biases that plague our “system” to feel better at having done something even if inconsequential. Another four years before we feel disappointed by our show in Tokyo. Rinse and repeat.

We must acknowledge that it is a really constricted pipeline that supplies sportspersons in India. “Sachin duck adichaalum avanukku sambalam undu; ana nee noothukku noothi pathu mark vaanganam” (Sachin gets paid even if he gets out for a duck but you must score 110 out of 100) was an oft repeated reminder around our house during the 90s during most ODIs. The emphasis, always, is either on education OR on earning. For the vast majority, sports can, at best, be a hobby; not an avocation.

The enthusiasm to come up with quick fixes is completely understandable. “Catch them young” is a popular one. Give eminent sports persons the authority is another. Educational institutions at all levels should give sports more importance; corporate involvement; people’s mindset…the list goes on. Sadly, there are no solutions readily available today to help us leapfrog to a better position on the medals table. There are many basic issues that will need to be addressed in tandem with higher level sporting requirements to give ourselves a better chance come 2024 and beyond.

To state the blindingly obvious, the majority of the middle class will (should I say rightfully?) always perform the risk-rewards analysis and place an emphasis on academic pursuits over athletic aspirations. Just like for the armed forces, there is the collective thinking that there are “others” that will rise up to the call for sporting heroes. The marginalized folks perhaps view a strong body, fast legs and stamina as little more than a good earning tool. It is difficult to think beyond immediate, unmet needs. And the honest truth is that for every Sachin Tendulkar or a P V Sindhu in the limelight, there are hundreds of thousands that have fallen by the wayside without a security net. However, if we could take sports - region and occupation specific - to the outer fringes of the country and society – both literally and figuratively – we could certainly unearth riches. How many times we have read about the “traveled 50kms one way by bus to play” of any athlete? 

Cast a wide net. Promoting active participation in a wide variety of sports rather than pursuing a full-fledged career in one is perhaps a good first step we could take. But when can that happen? I’m not talking air conditioned, indoor facilities. I’m talking about a clean pavement that will let someone take a jog or even a walk around the block, some green cover on the local sports fields (even if only seasonally) and improve basic amenities around existing facilities (security, lighting, parking, etc.).

Health is wealth. Limit access to tobacco, alcohol and drugs to youth. Easier said than done, one must admit. But putting in place tighter penalties (for sellers and users) and incentivizing cleaner habits can help improve the quality of the population overall.

Security. A soccer player or a hockey player in India will hone his skills knowing pretty well that he will never be able to aspire for the riches of our cricketers. Add to that the risk of injury and the playing careers of non-mainstream (read non-cricket) sports can be easily a non-starter. Avenues for better earning, access to quality sports medicine specialists and the ability to make a decent career in sports after one’s active years are possible motivators.

The education system should take a more forgiving look at sports aspirants. Rigid structures, do-or-die exam systems and (mostly) indifferent staff make it an either-or choice between academics and sports. And given the pressures of typical middle class society, it is a no-brainer that someone would pick academics.

If specialty sporting centers with experts can exist on top of these basic changes, there can be hope in the mid to long future. A rich medal tally is a powerful statement in soft power and helps with branding India on a global forum. With its medal haul at every global sporting event, China, warts and all, only enhances its image as a powerful nation. And a good show will also help tone down page-3 folks like Piers Morgan and Shobhaa De taking potshots at our athletes. 

The trailblazer from Tripura

Dipa Karmakar, the vault, the Produnova and Tripura.

Each word in the above sentence is stranger than the one before it. And that tells on most of us as a nation. I cringed when I typed them; guilty when I googled some. The Produnova, the risk it comes laced with, the grit, determination and sweat behind attempting it, leave alone perfecting.

As a nation of sports fans, we have always remembered numbers. The 10-jersey. We remember the 134 and the 143 from a dusty night in the Arab peninsula from many years ago. We remember the Eden 281 and its significance, the 10/74 wizardry in Delhi, 183 and 145 from Taunton on a grey summer English day from many years ago. Also remembered are a 114 from Perth, a 167 in Sydney. And the 183 in Lord’s. 25 June 1983. 02 April 2011. 100 100s, 6 x 6…numbers held close to our heart.

We have also built and followed a strict hierarchy. Cricket came first, second and third. Headingley, Wanderers and 'Gabba rolled off our tongues just as easily as Eden Gardens, Chepauk and Wankhede did. Durban and the "Green Mamba" and how Adelaide supported spin better than Perth is general knowledge. Space was made for the cricket world Cup, IPL and the Border-Gavaskar trophy on our calendars. And EPL, Euro, Wimbledon, the French Open, etc. filled the gaps.

So many special numbers, places and routines that have meant so much to all of us down the ages. So much that little else has mattered all along. Little else allowed to exist by our collective “sporting” conscience.

Thank you Dipa for giving us a new set of numbers to remember. A new set of numbers to be proud about. New places and people that we must look for and look after. 

15.066 – a number that will now be etched in our sporting memory.

0.15 – the whisker by which a slice of history could have been hers. And ours. 

4 – Fourth best in the world. Not a missed medal.

14-8-2016 – The day when a little known girl from a little known place overcame the tyrannies of distance, barriers of prejudice, inadequacies in infrastructure and the cold indifference of a nation.

1 – One more national icon to be proud of. One more sport to follow and accommodate in our packed sport (watching only) calendar.

Agartala – Sporting hinterland no more. It may not have an IPL franchise but it is just as much a part of us as Mohali, Kolkata or Hyderabad.

Rio de Janeiro – The place where we have been woken awake.

I was following the updates and watched only the deferred telecast later that night. But in the moments that she defied gravity and soared in the air, I felt that the 70^th Independence day had arrived a day earlier.

Dipa did not lose a medal; she may have actually lit a spark. She didn’t lose a spot on the podium; she has captured many hearts. She should be proud of a performance that forces us to take cognizance of the big world beyond the boundary ropes.

Thank you darling!

The two faced sea

The sea is a constant presence in the Tel Aviv city life. From Jaffa port in the South to the mouth of the Yarkon river in the North and beyond, the beach frames the West side of the city.  Most of the big city hotels are along the waterfront, affording the guests with stunning views. As I have mentioned earlier, I hardly get to enjoy the beach or even the views as I usually don’t return in time to catch a brilliant sunset. But the sea does make its presence felt – sunset or not – whenever you catch a glimpse through the windows.

During weekends it is a happy scene with a riot of fun activities when families flock to the beach to cool off in the water. In the mornings and evenings on all days, the athletically minded make the most of the uninterrupted promenade to quietly pack in some exercise. The warm waters and the white sand offer a fun venue for an entire population to unwind and forget life’s grind. The old, the young, the healthy, the infirm, men, women – all of them turn up in good numbers to unwind and paint a picture of joy and delight. To them, the Mediterranean is that old aunt whose home provides fun, succor and recharge to anyone that enters.

Looking out over the beauty of the calm, blue waters, one would find it difficult to picture the grief and sorrow that unfolds across the sea; people dying every day in unbelievable numbers while trying to cross the Mediterranean. Populations fleeing the violence of their homelands. Man-made conflict – religious, social and economic – driving them to seek refuge elsewhere along unwelcoming yet peaceful shores. Life or the lack of it forcing them on a perilous journey that could take them away from their past and towards an uncertain future. Placing their trust and life savings on the hands of ruthless operatives and setting sail on fragile vessels. The voyage across turquoise waters that often ends in watery graves for the tormented travelers. The Mediterranean becomes the bar where people drown themselves attempting to drown their sorrows. Or looked at differently, perhaps deliverance from their sufferings?

One sea, one water but the opposite shores paint two starkly different pictures. And yet the sunsets are just as brilliant every evening. On both shores, I’m sure. 

Stand up comedy roundup

Of late, I’m into stand up comedy. No, I’m not trying my hand at it – God knows that I’m ill equipped to regale an audience. So relax. I meant to say that I have been listening to/watching stand up comedy of various artists on YouTube – that fountainhead of mobile entertainment. I have a long commute and my choice of en route entertainment these days is stand up comedy on the way back home. On the mornings, it is still NPR and Mr. Ilayaraja.

As an art form, I suppose stand up comedy isn’t all that different from the other performing arts. You write material, practice, perform and improve enough over time to make a name for yourself. But unlike singing or dancing, which require years of rigorous and formal training to polish the skills, stand up comedy is largely self-honed. There are no schools or proving grounds, traditions to adhere to or grammar to stick to. The comedian is pretty much his own guru and there are no exams to certify one’s worth. Similarly there are no props to lean on or even hide behind – music, musicians or fellow performers. There is the performer, a microphone and the waiting audience and their appreciation the only scale to calibrate one against.

The comedian’s task is further more challenging because many in the audience think of themselves as being humorous. Not everyone that walks into an Aruna Sairam concert, for instance, fancies themselves as singers or are trained in classical music for years. But every John Doe out there can crack a good joke once in a while. So to provide a fresh perspective on everyday stuff and to bring a sense of novelty to things and experiences that almost everybody in the audience is aware of is a tough ask in my eyes. Choosing a profession fraught with these kinds of hazards is a big decision. Thus my healthy respect for their tribe.

I don’t mind mild (what is mild?) racial or ethnic jokes that play on stereotypes and a casual swear word thrown in here and there doesn’t turn me off either. So I find someone like Russell Peters funny. But I see some guys over using foul language as a comedic tool which doesn’t suit my taste. And for this exact reason, I have growing respect for the ones with squeaky clean content that you can watch with your kids.

There aren’t clear favorites yet as I’m still sampling the fare out there. But I’m beginning to like the work of Louis CK, Jim Gaffigan, Brian Regan from the US and Craig Ferguson and David Allen from the United Kingdom. And much like suffering poets being more profound, I find that guys with a difficult past (based on a few interviews) tend to come up with the better stuff.

A few friends recommended some Indian standup comedy acts in English and somehow I haven’t been able to savor the stuff that I have come across thus far. The comedians adopt English to cater to a wider, pan-Indian audience which is understandable. But therein lies the problem. In my opinion, English simply kills the comedic potential of content that can be better exploited in native languages. And dare I say, stand up comedy in India is still young and needs to evolve a bit – both among the performers and audiences.

Perhaps it is a cultural bias but I still prefer Indian comedy packaged as a track in movies or stage dramas. Between Goundamani’s body of work and S Ve Shekar’s and Crazy Mohan’s older dramas there is no gap in my comedy requirements. I also continue to mine the treasures of the Kamal and Crazy Mohan  combination when I need a good laugh or two. Yes, these are all stuff from the past and sadly, I don’t like very much what passes for comedy these days. 

Kabali - the experience

So yes, it is done. The movie has been watched and it is time to spill the guts/pour the heart out here. But before I start, here are some disclosures in no particular order.

      1. I’ve only been a casual Rajini fan (at best), throughout my life. I have never watched any Rajini movie within the first 2 weeks of its release. Except for Endhiran which I watched the day it released. In Singapore. So that doesn’t count.

2    2. I have never watched any of P Ranjith’s other movies. I don’t have a feel for his style, if there exists one.

3    3. I have mere passing knowledge of the situation of Tamils in Malaysia by virtue of having lived in nearby Singapore for a few years and having worked with a few Malaysian Indians.

Warning: Full of spoilers.

The story line has three threads. The plight of Tamil-origin people in Malaysia, a turf war between rival gangs and a man seeking out his long lost family. Rarely have such three strong elements been made available to provide the perfect setting to deliver a masterpiece that would have not only made the fans happy but also enhanced the fading star’s larger than life image. But walking out of the theater, I felt transported back to the night of the 1996 ICC WC semi-final when I watched the favorites flounder on the biggest night on the biggest stage. There was an equal mix of disappointment and sadness not just for the Rajini fan but also the Tamil cinema fan. When you realize that the entire teaser was entirely sourced from within the first 15 minutes of the movie, you know you have been done in.

The first question that springs to mind is what did Ranjith want to convey? Was this a clear political movie with a strong pro-Dalit message? No. That would have called for a more nuanced handling of the plight of the Tamils in Malaysia rather than the cursory, episodic portrayals seen here topped off with jarring one liners with political innuendoes inserted here and there. Was this then a full-fledged mafia movie about an ageing don ascending to his rightful place on the throne? Hell no. This was a mish mash of poorly choreographed fight scenes thrown in pretty much at random. Did he want to at least explore the tender side of a once-violent don in search of familial love? Again, this aspect was not fully exploited and came across as under cooked.

Ranjith, I suppose, wanted to convey a strong pro-Dalit message using Rajini as a vehicle. He couldn’t have set the story as happening in Tamilnadu for the obvious reason that Rajini’s fan base cuts across all castes. So he had to move it to Malaysia to be politically correct. But he dare not talk anything against the current political dispensation there (or the Bhumiputra policy) without setting off a political fire storm. So to avoid that, he travels in time rather conveniently to pick up issues with the the white man. Lo and behold, here is a neat little political plot that upsets none! And he dressed it up with some don drama and a dash of family sentiments. And in the middle of all this juggling, he remembered that this also has to be a Rajini movie after all and hastily tried to throw some core elements in almost as an afterthought. The result is a limp movie that tries to be many things at once but caters to no one’s needs in the end.

A Rajini movie is like an intense religious ceremony and its director the chief priest overseeing the preparations. His familiarity with the plentiful traditions, handed down the ages, is a pre-requisite. And the traditions are to be adhered to at a minimum or organically enhanced, at best. Questioning them or attempting to overturn them is blasphemy But the novice director in his rather careless handling of the script (and the mega star) has betrayed his lack of pedigree resulting in a movie that has little to show for the pre-release hype.

The biggest drawback was the screenplay that was as helpful as a soggy, soiled diaper around a playful baby’s waist. A taut screenplay can partly shoulder the burden of a weak script. But unfortunately this was a double whammy that left many passages of the movie dragging. An electrifying opening and introduction segment was sorely missing. After showing him inside the prison cell, I was left confused: is this it or is there going to be an actual intro? This confusion seems to persist throughout the movie and together with a flimsy story line, leaves many questions unanswered. For instance, how did Rajini transform from a local leader to a gangster and a don? How did he make the money to bank roll his lifestyle especially if he avoids drug trade and flesh trade?

The cast was the second weakest link. With all due respect, who (the f***) is John Vijay? Forcing us to accept him as Rajini’s friend from youth is a slap on our intelligence. The guy looks like an idiot in that wig and is driving Rajini around in a bike. Ranjith, allow me to break this down for you: Rajini does NOT ride pillion. Ever. Period. Moving on, let’s look at memorable villains of the past – Raghuvaran, Ramya Krishnan, Manivannan, Vijayashanthi. In that impressive lineup, this guy from Taiwan is a bad joke. A superhero requires a super villain and he/she was sorely missing from the script. Dhansika as the daughter was a bitter pill to swallow especially when Radhika Apte, playing her aged mom, looks like her class mate from MOP Vaishnava college. Radhika was about the only real actor in the movie. The reunion segment was easily the best in the movie and the “maya nadhi” song showed glimpses of what Rajini the actor is capable of and what we have missed all along. The music is also a big letdown. neruppu da was catchy and maya nadhi, soulful. But the background score was loud and noisy and didn’t liven up things.

The production quality was particularly bad. Whose idea was it to not even grey the aged Radhika's hair? While Rajini had aged, she looks like his elder daughter. Wigs, particularly for the flashback segment looked clumsy. And the set for the climax scene looked like something out of a “Shaktimaan” episode. If a third of the money and focus spent on promotion and marketing had been diverted to the making, this could have come out much more stylish and classier.

That leaves Rajini as the one redeeming feature – standing tall while surrounded by a sea of mediocrity. He tries to carry the entire movie on his frail shoulders but looks hamstrung by the cast, crew and the script. Age, which had begun to show for a few years now, has started seriously encroaching into the persona. The charisma is still there and so is the stylish screen presence but the voice has grown feeble and the body frail. Scenes he could once have chewed up and spat out seem less convincing. And in the hands of a less capable director, he runs the risk of being reduced to a caricature.

Rajini the larger than life super star is at the inevitable crossroads that every ageing star faces. A body of work that he can be proud of lies behind. And still adoring fans surround him. From here on, it is all about the legacy that he chooses to leave behind. He must remind himself that history takes a kinder view of those who leave on a high. Time is not his ally anymore and it is critical that he chooses his script and directors with utmost care. Dalliances with the inexperienced is an adventure that he can ill afford and his fans simply deserve better fare. Else, Padayappa may well become the last real Rajini movie ever made.

Kabali - the noon before

Typing this up a few hours before watching Kabali. It would be a lie to say that I’m not excited. After weeks of watching the trailer/teaser, listening to the songs and staying clear of leaks (alleged opening/intro clip sitting unviewed on whatsapp), scrolling past reviews and opinions of all sorts, even my kid – born after Endhiran came out, to give you some context – is walking around mouthing the dialogs and humming the songs.

I would say that the pre-release promotions for Kabali have been an order of magnitude bigger than any other Rajini movie; bordering on manufactured mass hysteria. Yes, it is good business sense to whip up some excitement even if it is a Rajini movie given the money that gets put in. But this one has gone overboard. The expectations are now set high; time to see if and how the movie lives up to it.

Will blog about the Kabali experience soon! 

Why this kolaveri da?

An unarmed girl hacked to death in broad daylight by a spurned lover stalker. Peeling off one more layer, let’s look a bit at the individuals involved. The victim was employed in a leading software company. The stalker was an engineering drop out with little else going for him besides this one sided amorous pursuit. Her crime? Spurning the advances of a sociopath.

It is a fine line that separates fantasy from reality. And it is a scary thought that the youth of today – not all of them, of course –so easily go astray and cross that line with no thought about the consequences. I’m trying to make sense of what his intentions were in following her. Did he really fancy his chances with her? Assuming for argument’s sake that she had reciprocated his feelings for her, did he ever ponder what then? Remember, she was at the threshold of a career and by all reports, he was already an absolute failure.

From the news reports, it looks that his friends have stoked his desires and he may have been encouraged to pursue her by his peers. The fact that she had not reported him to her dad – for fear of being curtailed I’d imagine rather than out of any romantic interests – have apparently emboldened him. And finally when she had called a spade a spade, he loses the plot and takes it upon himself to teach her a lesson that goes horribly wrong.

Anger from rejection is a natural human emotion. But channelizing that anger to improve oneself is so passé. Teaching a lesson on the other hand – a la Rajinikant the shrew tamer – is cool! I hate to oversimplify this situation and lay the entire blame at the doorstep of Tamil cinema. But it is hard to overlook the role of movies in incidents like these. Do movies reflect society or does society imbibe from cinema is a debate for another day. But it is fair to assume that cinema today has a strong influence on the youth.

Let’s face it. The hero from a humble background winning the hands of the princess is a horse that has been flogged down the ages on celluloid. In earlier times, the hero was unfailingly depicted as a fundamentally good person that rose from the lower rungs of the society and rebelled against the ruling class. The love was (of course) incidental and merely a vehicle to question class distinctions and bring about societal change. The romance, more often than not initiated from the girl's side, was boringly clean and always ended in sweet union. In other words, even a kid knew it was a story. No sane person could identify themselves with any of the onscreen characters. 

Let’s take a look at how the role of the hero has evolved. There was the period that glorified suicides spawned by "love failure". Or giving oneself liver sclerosis when spurned. But today, when movie makers vie with one another to portray "reality", the need to portray positive values has become one of the first victims. Besides the humble background, today's cine male has nothing in common with the ones from the black and white era. He has a highly inflated sense of entitlement and pretty much nothing else. He is a flawed rebel without a cause, qualifications, values or even the looks for that matter. An academic failure? No problem. Completely incompatible with the girl culturally and economically? No problem again. The narrative is one that gives him the entitlement to any girl’s love interest only because he desired so, no matter what. After all, “engala maari pasangala paatha odaney pidikkadhu. Paakka paakka dhaan pidikkum”, right? (Loose translation: we are an acquired taste.)

In this synthetic reality where his shortcomings are his qualifications and greed is a virtue, the lady’s rejection then becomes a classist slap on the face of an entire section of society. Choosing a more compatible guy is casteism masquerading as choice! In other words, the girl (or her family) knows nothing, should have no preferences of her own whatsoever and her choices simply don’t matter. The knight in shining armor – warts and all – shath set everything in order with his love en route to a happily lived ever after. The flawed man’s misplaced desires are here and here to stay.

Cinema has always been guilty of airbrushing reality to reel in audiences but now the consequences are becoming more lethal. Combine that with the sorry fact that strong values are not instilled into youth at every opportunity (family, schools, colleges), girls and their families unjustly bear the burden of a few men getting high on flawed narratives and running amok when hit by reality.

I hate Kamal Hassan the actor and nowadays even the individual. But I remember and like one of his earlier interviews where he advises the audiences to watch a movie strictly for entertainment and brush off its influences as soon as one steps out of the theater. Sounds so right.

Flight 619 cleared for takeoff

The abiding image of Anil Kumble, for me, is the big man standing at the start of his famous run up, giving the old ball in his hand a hard twirl or two on the fourth day of any test match. Intense eyes scanning the field placements, exchanging a word or two with the captain, trousers turning red at the groins and close in fielders preparing to lap up the edge that was always imminent. The venue could be Kanpur or Capetown. India could be winning or gasping to save the test. The pitch could be favoring somebody and the weather somebody else. But you just knew the match would be cracked open no matter what and India would be given at least an outside chance. With his determination and grit as much as with his spin and flight.

As Anil Kumble transitioned from player to administrator after his retirement – a less lucrative path, not often taken – I felt a satisfaction that his services to the game would continue. And as he takes up the reins of the Indian team now, I feel that he will bring his A game to the table just as he had done every time he wore the India cap.

A great player need not necessarily be a great captain or a good coach. And Anil certainly lacks coaching pedigree that Tom Moody has in plenty that could come in handy at this level. But Anil has worn new hats with success before and more importantly, his dedication and sincerity together with his knowledge of the game should stand him in good stead. A belief that is certainly not misplaced in his case.  And given our legacy of weak pace assets, a world class spinner as the head coach can certainly help nourish and develop our spin attack.

Matches will be won and lost; trophies lifted or gifted. But one can rest assured that this team, to borrow his famous words after that ugly Sydney test, will “play the game in the right spirit”, as it should be. The sagely Kumble could be the perfect foil for the aggressive Virat.

As a fan, I’m hooked. Time to sit back and fasten the seat belts as The Jumbo prepares for takeoff. 

P.S: For a India fan from the eighties, this is like a reunion of sorts happening now. Between the cricket advisory committee, the India U-19 coach and now team India head coach, the old boys are back together again! 

Nothing to see here

Some time back, Progressive Insurance, if memory serves, ran a television ad where they claimed to provide their customers with quotes from their competitors right on their own website. Their claim? "We want you to save money even if it's not with us." I never went with Progressive as I have always been saving 15 percent or more elsewhere (and also that lady on their ads is a bit creepy) but their tag line has stuck in memory for all these years.

In that spirit, today I'm providing you with links to better prose elsewhere with nothing more than the noble intention that at M/s. Slowelectron Inc., we want you to get some value for your time. Even if it's not with us. Although, anyone that has visited this site would know that the chances of getting anything of quality here are rather slim.

Without further blather, here are the promised links.

Exhibit 1: If you have wondered whether you are wasting spending too much time on social media, there is good news and bad news. The bad news is that, yes you have been wasting your time. But the good news is that you are but a pawn in this intricate game of luring you in and making you lose any sense of time on their app/website. Tristan Harris - a magician and ex-Google Design Ethicist - shines light on a high stakes game where human weaknesses are leveraged to the advantage of the businesses, where every pixel seduces you and every click draws you deeper into the abyss. Time to snap out of the stupor and take control. (P.S: No, I don't have this affliction. FB had to flash the the pictures of a few of my friends for me to identify as the account had been inactive for too long. And that was a few months back. And I still believe that Whatsapp is a mobile messaging app.)

Exhibit 2: Hariharan Iyer calls the bluff on the double standards of the secular brigade, this time it is Trupti Desai and her two distinct set of antics for two different religions.

Exhibit 3: From being denied a visa to getting a state welcome and addressing Congress, India's Prime Minister Narendra Modi has come a long way, in few giant strides. But meanwhile at NY times... I stopped reading at the paragraph that says "The Gujarat riots began on a February morning, when a train carrying Hindu pilgrims was surrounded by a mob of Muslims and caught fire at a train platform in Godhra."

Hope to be back soon with something original.

Tamil Nadu election results: An amateur's review

Looks like I may have a future as a political pundit after all. Cho Ramaswamy's protege? Perhaps, perhaps. Don't jinx it. ;)

My amateur takeaways, in no particular order, from the poll results where Tamil Nadu has chosen to be robbed by the incumbent set of thugs for the first time in 38 years. 

1. This appears more a loss for DMK than a victory for ADMK. Tamil Nadu's notorious anti-incumbency urge was not strong enough to deny Jayalalitha a second term. Memories from DMK's previous term, greed spawned by family/dynasty politics and potential for great corruption did DMK in. To make matters worse, their tie up with Congress turned out to be a big mistake - they won 8 of the 41 seats that they contested in with a paltry 6.4% vote share. (Source: wikipedia). They had to go with the Congress: the BJP wouldn't touch the DMK with, to borrow a term from my Brit colleague, a ten-foot bargepole and quite honestly, the Congress and the DMK partnered so well in UPA II to loot the nation that they had to keep each other happy to ensure that the lid remained seated firmly on their sordid affairs.

2. Imagine M Karunanidhi dying as a Chief Minister: restrained glee for MK Stalin, manufactured grief among the cadres and mild to moderate chaos across the state as the power struggle in the family unfolds. I'm so happy that this has been averted.  And a grave on the Marina beach for the fossil-in-a-veshti nonagenarian will now be a tough ask with JJ at the helm. 

3. BJP and their sad Tamil story continues. My secret wish was that they would win at least 5 seats in and around Coimbatore and Kanyakumari. And they drew a blank. BJP going alone in TN is a wasted effort: their flavor of Hindutva done in Hindi won't appeal to the Tamil sensibilities, their better governance notwithstanding. And development is not as big a deal in the state like elsewhere in the country. That said, I'm still willing to bet that the same people would vote for BJP in 2019, provided they are able to cobble together a good alliance. The national credibility of the BJP combined with some local flavor will be the ideal mix, although it remains to be seen who can be that ideal local partner. 

4. The DMDK+ drubbing. I'm hard pressed to say anything other than, well deserved. I'm glad the people were able to see right through them and called their bluff. Granted they didn't have the might - people and money - of the big two. But all things considered, it was a rickety party and turned out to be a damp squib. And how! Captain, Thol Thirumavalavan and the communists lost spectacularly. Of particular interest is the curious case of Thol Thirumavalavan losing in a reserved constituency. The self styled voice of the Dalits shown the door! Time for introspection guys. 

5. Alcohol. It was billed as the ultimate make or break issue around which this poll was supposed to turn. And everyone that had promised total prohibition - and had expected to win the female vote - ended up biting the dust. Prohibition is, at best, a knee jerk solution to the threat posed by alcohol abuse. Personally I'll bat for more control, extensive rehabilitation and increasing awareness rather than total prohibition. Going cold turkey will only facilitate a flourishing illicit liquor trade, people losing eyesight and countless deaths. And also leave that occasional drinker looking for a beer on a Friday night terribly frustrated. 

6. 57% voter turn out in Chennai. That old-school indifference of the middle class rears its ugly head again. Yes, there is the age-old grievance that is unique to the middle class: what do they get in return for their vote? Pretty much nothing. So why bother. But let's not forget that the income tax one pays doesn't fetch much returns either in India. But everyone pays it nonetheless. Just like that. 

7. A truly three cornered fight remains a distant dream in Tamil Nadu. The DMK is at a crossroads: MK's death will lead to some ugliness in the fight for succession. But the party would survive better given that it is only a family business and families patch up. Especially if the stakes are high. On the other hand, ADMK will flounder badly in a post-JJ world, as second tier leadership is unheard of in their set up. With PMK, MDMK, DMDK and the communists being irrelevant players, DMK will be left without a serious challenger. And that is a scary scenario. BJP, are you listening?