Randum Ore Kadal!
Short story writer Subhash Chandran writes in Mathrubhumi Azhchappathippu on how director Shyamaprasad made him write the script for Ore Kadal and then dumped him. I first read about it on Orkut. To quote the post, "This is how 'genius' directors survive in malayalam...sad!"
Sad indeed. Especially when it comes from someone we all loved for his Agnisaakshi and some very good telefilms (Vishwavikhyathamaya Mookku, Peruvazhiyile Kariyilakal, Ullurukkam..) Shyamaprasad takes the credit for Ore Kadal script. I don't understand what's wrong with him -- it will only remain a big blot in his career graph.
Subhash, we love you for your stories, now we will love you for your script. No matter what the credit scrolls say.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
The Little Prince
"Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves and it is rather tedious for children to have to explain things to them time and again.."
"..So the astronomer repeated his demonstration in 1920, dressed in an elegant suit. And this time everybody was convinced.."
After a long time I'm reading a book till the end..
Or so I thought when I started reading it.
Because The Little Prince started out interesting enough, it tried to avoid the kind of language that only the grown-ups understand, the words used did not demand having a dictionary by my side, and the book was so small.. I thought this time I'm surely going to finish it, for a change.
But that was not to be. After four or five chapters it got monotonous, and by the time it got to the flower and the King, it saturated; the words remained simple but the language became more of that of the grown-ups.. and (The Little Prince fans, forgive me) I could not move further. I gave up.
Still I think it was worth knowing that such a book existed. And it has been in existence for more than sixty years now. (Incidentally, one of these days I also found an advertisement of a version in Malayalam, as a series in Balabhumi.)
I'm still waiting.. to find a book that can hold me till the end!
[Image source: Wikipedia]
"..So the astronomer repeated his demonstration in 1920, dressed in an elegant suit. And this time everybody was convinced.."
After a long time I'm reading a book till the end..
Or so I thought when I started reading it.
Because The Little Prince started out interesting enough, it tried to avoid the kind of language that only the grown-ups understand, the words used did not demand having a dictionary by my side, and the book was so small.. I thought this time I'm surely going to finish it, for a change.
But that was not to be. After four or five chapters it got monotonous, and by the time it got to the flower and the King, it saturated; the words remained simple but the language became more of that of the grown-ups.. and (The Little Prince fans, forgive me) I could not move further. I gave up.
Still I think it was worth knowing that such a book existed. And it has been in existence for more than sixty years now. (Incidentally, one of these days I also found an advertisement of a version in Malayalam, as a series in Balabhumi.)
I'm still waiting.. to find a book that can hold me till the end!
[Image source: Wikipedia]
Sunday, April 08, 2007
happy easter (and a nostalgic Bangla win)
Wish you a happy easter!
Watching yesterday's World Cup cricket match between Bangladesh and South Africa was like watching cricket fifteen years back.
When I had only started watching cricket, and was able to sit in front of the TV for an entire match (I can't even imagine that now, how much stress it would have been on my eyes).
When the openers just made sure they didn't lose wickets in the first few overs,
when the matches never went into the three hundreds,
when an individual hundred was an exception, and an 80 was a big score..
I watched only the Bangla innings, and it really took me back in time. Seeing Mohammed Ashraful cut loose after his fifty completed the feeling of deja vu. (Needless to say, I was happy to know they won the match).
And I realize how much the game has changed over years. It is not about one of them being better than the other. It is like getting to watch a newsreel on Darwin's theory. Where you get a close look of the contrast.
Watching yesterday's World Cup cricket match between Bangladesh and South Africa was like watching cricket fifteen years back.
When I had only started watching cricket, and was able to sit in front of the TV for an entire match (I can't even imagine that now, how much stress it would have been on my eyes).
When the openers just made sure they didn't lose wickets in the first few overs,
when the matches never went into the three hundreds,
when an individual hundred was an exception, and an 80 was a big score..
I watched only the Bangla innings, and it really took me back in time. Seeing Mohammed Ashraful cut loose after his fifty completed the feeling of deja vu. (Needless to say, I was happy to know they won the match).
And I realize how much the game has changed over years. It is not about one of them being better than the other. It is like getting to watch a newsreel on Darwin's theory. Where you get a close look of the contrast.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Responsibility of Deaths
On Feb 28 I learn about the demise of Ronald Rebello. He was 25. I am shocked. I, like many others, remember him largely through his letters to the editors ("I am a Human Rights Activist and a regular Letter Writer with special interest in Adivasi struggles and Justice issues..", he introduces himself in his blog). I also remember a mailing list that remained active because of him. RIP Ronald, and RIP manavbachao!
My mother A V Pushparjini is taken to the ICU of Elite Mission Hospital, Thrissur on March 3, where she is declared dead on March 6 evening. That death has made me older. It makes me reflect on a variety of things, and puts some responsibilities on me. (Sreejitha says she feels the same.) I also feel her closer to me than ever before. Sans the barriers of this world, sans the social and familial pressures.. now I can love her as much as I want. So can Sreejitha.
March 14: Police open fire at local people at Nandigram, West Bengal. (I read about it in the newspapers the next day morning. I feel numb). Official statement by the WB Government says 14 died in the firing. The reports coming in from Nandigram puts the death toll above 50.
On March 19 newspapers carry the news of Pak Cricket Coach Bob Woolmer found dead in his hotel room in Jamaica. It disturbs me.
A mail from a friend dated March 20 says,
"Com M Iqbal, a former leader of SBI employees, former councilor of Kochi Corporation, a well known writer and theoretician on music, grand son of the first malayalam gazal singer Sara Gul Muhammed passed away this morning due to a heart attack. his body will be cremated tomorrow morning 11 AM at Mattanchery.."
The mail gives links to Iqbal's orkut profile and homepage. In his orkut profile he says,
"about me: love music, art and literature. feel all human are one."
His sons have put up a note on his profile now.
[On googling I find an older obituary: "Multi-lingual singer of yesteryears, Sara Gul Mohammed, (83), died here on Monday (Feb 23, 1998). A childhood friend of the legendary singer, M S Subbulakshmi, Sara, who began singing at the age of nine, is stated to have had the distinction of being the first woman to have her songs recorded on gramophone. Her talent was first spotted by her mentor Gul Mohammed, whom she married later.."]
By the time I got back to the world of internet and the world of friends everywhere, I am caught in a web of deaths.
And I learn that every death puts some responsibility on me. On Sreejitha. And on each of us.
[This post was inspired by a poem that Sreejitha wrote, in Malayalam]
My mother A V Pushparjini is taken to the ICU of Elite Mission Hospital, Thrissur on March 3, where she is declared dead on March 6 evening. That death has made me older. It makes me reflect on a variety of things, and puts some responsibilities on me. (Sreejitha says she feels the same.) I also feel her closer to me than ever before. Sans the barriers of this world, sans the social and familial pressures.. now I can love her as much as I want. So can Sreejitha.
March 14: Police open fire at local people at Nandigram, West Bengal. (I read about it in the newspapers the next day morning. I feel numb). Official statement by the WB Government says 14 died in the firing. The reports coming in from Nandigram puts the death toll above 50.
On March 19 newspapers carry the news of Pak Cricket Coach Bob Woolmer found dead in his hotel room in Jamaica. It disturbs me.
A mail from a friend dated March 20 says,
"Com M Iqbal, a former leader of SBI employees, former councilor of Kochi Corporation, a well known writer and theoretician on music, grand son of the first malayalam gazal singer Sara Gul Muhammed passed away this morning due to a heart attack. his body will be cremated tomorrow morning 11 AM at Mattanchery.."
The mail gives links to Iqbal's orkut profile and homepage. In his orkut profile he says,
"about me: love music, art and literature. feel all human are one."
His sons have put up a note on his profile now.
[On googling I find an older obituary: "Multi-lingual singer of yesteryears, Sara Gul Mohammed, (83), died here on Monday (Feb 23, 1998). A childhood friend of the legendary singer, M S Subbulakshmi, Sara, who began singing at the age of nine, is stated to have had the distinction of being the first woman to have her songs recorded on gramophone. Her talent was first spotted by her mentor Gul Mohammed, whom she married later.."]
By the time I got back to the world of internet and the world of friends everywhere, I am caught in a web of deaths.
And I learn that every death puts some responsibility on me. On Sreejitha. And on each of us.
[This post was inspired by a poem that Sreejitha wrote, in Malayalam]
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The World Cup is not over, boss!
The World Cup Madness in our media seems to have ended. That is a relief. Thanks to the Bangladesh and Sri Lankan teams who showed us where our "Blue Army" belongs.
The ads with our "heroes" are off air, there's no more "Ooh Aah India" (sounds like some porn scene) and all that crap. Yes, there's still some post-mortem going on to find out who are the real culprits (like this one), who all will lose job, who will be new captain, who will be new coach and all that. And there is a Bob Woolmer mystery for the Poirot fans. [He gave his life to Cricket - cricket world pays tribute]
All that is fine, but would that mean we stop covering the world cup matches?
Do our newspaper biggies feel that we are only supposed to follow the world cup only as long as Indian team stayed in the race?
Don't know if this lack of enthusiasm has anything to do with the loss of advertising revenues on ads that featured Indian players. Whatever the reason be, we have stopped getting updates about the previous day's scores. (I get The Telegraph at home, a city edition). One has to be content with two days old match reports and score cards. And of course, the coach-captain-senior players drama.
Is all the fizz over at this world cup? It's far from it. Sri Lanka, New Zealand, Australia, South Africa are all playing good cricket. England is also very much in the race. To see how they tackle in-form Sri Lankans in today's match would be interesting. Even the West Indies is not out of the World Cup yet.
May be we will get a better coverage as the super eight stage nears an end. Thats all we can hope for now!
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Myayavi
Shafi's Mayavi (Myayavi, as Salim Kumar's character Kannan Sraank prefers it) is one Malayalam film I really enjoyed watching. One can count them on one hand -- Pandippada (by Rafi-Mecartin), Rajamanikyam (by Anwar Rasheed) and Udayanaanu Thaaram (by Rosshan Andrews) is all I can think of in, say, last three or four years. (Classmates came close).
Looks like everyone else is also enjoying it, going by the near-full house in the sixth or seventh week of its release. Kannan Sraank is one major factor in the film's success (I am becoming more and more a fan of Salim Kumar with every movie of his), as is Gopika's character (and the scene in which she buys the hero a lemon drink). The scriptwriters Rafi and Mecartin also deserve mention for coming up with crazier ideas every time. `Namovakam' to the entire team! [The poster above is not an "official" one. It's designed by a well-wisher of Mayavi and is available on the web at http://img.photoamp.com/i/nq4qfWylu.jpg]
[Malayalam film buffs are known for their dislike for newer faces when it comes to heroes but thankfully, they don't seem to have such a reservation against new directors. The "experienced" lot has been biting dust time and again, while it's the fresh lot that's coming up with big commercial successes. Be it Jayasurya of Speed Track, Ravi of Keerthichakra, Johnny Antony of CID Moosa, Shafi, Anwar Rasheed, Rosshan Andrews.. These directors have had some freshness in their themes and treatments. If this is any sign of things to come in Malayalam cinema, I count it as a good sign.
I am looking forward to Chota Mumbai. I hope Anwar does not disappoint like Johnny Antony and Rosshan Andrews did after promising first films. One has to give credits to Shafi for not following that path. He seems to be getting better.
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