Over.

Another trip. Over. Sad.

Sivaji – The Prince

To be very honest this was the only Tamil movie I actually wanted to watch. Come to think of it, keeping aside some Bengali films, this was the first Indian movie I looked forward to watching. I was told so many things about this movie, that at one point I felt like it was my right to stand up and defend my precious Hollywood. This had been the most expensive Indian film ever produced. Coming form the biggest film industry in the world, that’s saying a lot I guess. In a country where films actors command demi-god status, it doesn’t get any more demi-godish than Rajnikanth, apparently. So, me being me, naturally wanted know what fuck was all about. I’m sure that there was some divine intervention in letting me go for the movie as I was told that I would not be taken for it due to my comment “Rajnikanth is an ugly old fart”.

Anyway, I end up in front of Cine City, Maradana for the 10 o’clock show. I need to mention something about this theater too. This is no ordinary theater. It looks like a fucking fortress. I couldn’t see the entrance as it was covered with iron fence. It was like a barricade. Though I had been thinking about it ever since, I’m still not quite sure the purpose it serves. I was dreading standing in line inside an iron fence. I would have died of claustrophobia. Fortunately W charmed her way in to getting me inside through the main entrance.

The commercials that run before the movie are as unique as the theater. I have never seen three-wheeler spare parts commercial. Not even on tv. This place had that. Then came Ranjan Ramanayake and his biceps in the trailer of Leader. The sneak peek shows Ranjan dishing out round house kicks, lot of explosions and a chick who seems to enjoy flashing her panty. This is where the first crowd reaction comes. The audience is as unique as the theater and the commercials. Very, very vocal and made me feel like in school, watching a movie without a teacher. There were boos, loud comments and whistles. Too bad I didn’t understand the comments.

So the movie begins. The only name I can recall now, being mentioned in the opening credits is Rajnikanths. And he is introduced as SUPER STAR Rajnikanth. This provokes another outburst of claps and whistles and the movie goes on for a good three hours. The movie as all elements for success, covered. It has a superstar, elaborate sets, five more songs than absolutely necessary and a nationalistic story line. To top it all, it has slap-stick comedy, an over flow of, what apparently are, Rajnikanths trademark moves and outrageous costumes. Rajni (as he is fondly referred to as) portrays a chappy that has made his millions after going to the U.S and is now (surprise, surprise) a software engineer. Comes back to India with a god like attitude and wants make it a better place. What better way than to establish a free medical training college. To make it very short, our chappy Rajni, over comes bureaucracy, beats the crap out of (what seems like) quarter of the Indian population, signs documents with both hands to quicken things up and basically makes India the most sort after real estate in the world by 2020. Single handedly. Now that is fucking amazing, don’t chu think?

W tells me that you will not see anybody other than Rajnikanth in the movie. In the sense, that his presences is so overwhelming. And I agree with her. The director has made sure of this to the extent that you will see seven to eight Rajnikanths at the same time on the screen.

But I would be a hypocrite not to say that I was fascinated by the whole experience. I am fascinated how this less than average looking guy who can’t act for peanuts commands such hysterical mass mania. What is also fascinating is how a sixty-year-old man acts like a thirty year old. At sixty years, I would probably be farting while putting my granddaughter to sleep, while this man is out there kissing the hips of a gorgeous woman. Not even the most versatile of Hollywood actors can pull of what this guys pulls off. I am sure that either he has a lot of ass kissers around him who convinces him that he still can carry this kind of role off or his fans just don’t want him to grow old, at least on screen. And from last nights’ experience, I feel it’s the latter. I have been told by my uncle that in the days when Gamini Fonseka reigned the local cinema screen, they as young boys would come out if the cinema repeating the cool dialogs and would use them anywhere they could. This was what I saw yesterday. Guys came out repeating the ultra cool one-liners and doing the finger snaps. In third world countries, that gets bitch slapped around by the west, because of the socially deprived lives they lead, people seek emotional asylum in movies. In that context, a good movie and a movie star should bring this kind of emotion out in moviegoers. Rajnikanth the man, is more like a cut-out of himself you would have seen in Chennai for one of his movies, thirty years ago. His fans don’t see his wrinkles, his bad acting, his receding hairline, his potbelly. They see a prince who makes love to them, by winking and snapping is fingers, every time they go to the movies. Koool!

Another One Of Those Situations

I hate having conversations with three wheeler drivers. Usually it’s about either the government, cost of living or cricket. After the first four conversations, you realize that you end up having the same conversation over and over again. Fucking dejavu. I’ve had my four conversations and don’t have anything more to contribute (and the ipod was invented in the mean time too).

That was until yesterday. I was on my way from office yesterday. I hailed down a three wheeler which was speeding towards Grandpass. Inside is a human hulk. I’m not quite sure whether to get in or not. I’m ordered to get in or loose my life. Courteousness was never a virtue of local drivers. So anyway, I get in. Partly due to the fear of the next guy who stopped (he looked like he kidnaps people), party coz I had the first season of “Lost” waiting for me at home (Yes, first season. After year of denial I finally gave in).

Now I’m on a bumpy and zippy ride from Grandpass to Wallawatte. A bus rams into a car in front of Colombo Uni. One thing that I have noticed about local drivers is the fact how they are ignorant about the traffic rules they break. You talk to a local driver and you will realize how many traffic rules he abides by yet have no idea how many he’s breaking. I see this as being optimistic. Anyway, now the conversation starts. I’m not quite sure how it exactly started coz I had my pod plugged in but I’m sure it has something to do with the accident. I get spoken to in English. And extremely good English at that. I get asked all sorts of questions that make me feel like I’m at a job interview.

“Sir, where do you work?”

I tell him.

“Sir, what do you do there?”

The only thing I seem not to do there is what I’m asked to do.

“Sir, do they give you a car?”

I give him a synopsis of my last year.

Then the conversation takes a dramatic twist.

“Sir, do you have a girl?”

WTF??!!! I’m not quite sure how to and why I should answer that. There should be a law against asking questions like that. Me being the sod I am, have this retarded habit of justifying everything I say. So I’m like “No….I mean I had.”

“These girls come and go sir; it’s very hard to find a good girl”

I’m like “ok”.

“Don’t worry sir, you look innocent. You will find a good girl”

Shut the fuck up dude. I will smack you on the head if you promise not to punch seven shades of shit out of me.

“eeerr….thank you”

“I have had enough girls sir. Enough”

Now what are you trying do? Make me feel bad just because I haven’t had my fill?!!!

“I’ve had girls up to here (making a level sign in front of his nose)!! All are bitches who are after your money!!”

They would be, if you told them that you would pay them for their services. Idiot.

“eer…really?”

“I will just fuck them like this (holding his nose), like this sir; and throw them away!!”

At this point I gave up trying to understand him. I assume he has had some bad experience with body odor. I dig you dude, I so dig you.

Somehow, later it dawned on me that it has nothing to do with odor. This guy has some serious issues!! This guy needs some serious closure on a bad relationship. I was told about what a disgrace, women are to human kind. That they evaluate men on what kind of car they drive and what kind of house you own.

Shit!! I’m going to die alone at a bus stand.

After seeing my dads’ name on the gate he asks me hundred questions about the man. I get off but not fast enough. He asks me for my number. I get off the ride giving my old number and run to the safety of the house.

Some people are just under utilized.

D'S

I’m not quite sure whether they got the spelling right but a stunning place nevertheless.

Surgery

The best thing that happened since my last post was Mark Cross leaving the morning show on Yes FM. Thank fucking god!! Somewhere between wise cracks and fake accents those two jokers lost the concept of radio. Which was primarily to PLAY MUSIC. Shack is as funny as drinking your own vomit and Mark just don’t know when to shut up. Tracy on TNL did the best moring show I’ve listened to. Now that’s one funny radio jock. I still remember the day she played “lankawe ape lankawe” by the Gypsies on the show. That’s kick ass DJing. Shack, dude I’m sorry to say that the only people who listened to you guys were recent middle management retards who still head bang listening to Summer of 69. So please do us all a favor and get another job.

I did come across a few interesting social situations that made me think however. If this post feels like surgery, please stop reading now. The worst curse you can carry in life would be not to fall in love. Imagine going through your entire lifetime but not falling in love. The social circumstances around you prevent you from feeling the essence of life itself. It’s quite amazing the number of people you would find in this social paradigm if you listen hard enough. Getting stuck in a marriage when you are barley out of your teens and before you know it fifteen years go by and three kids come along. All this and you’ve not even reached you 35^th birthday. Suffocating isn’t it? I want to do so much in life. I want to meet so many people. Visit so many places. It’s obvious we all not wired the same way but you speak to these people and realize that when they started out they had a lot of potential and hope by somehow it never really panned out quite like how they expected. Guess if its anything, life is full of surprises. The good, the bad and the ugly.

This post is, sort of, all over the fking place as I have been over the past few months. April and May was like going through surgery. People came and went. Functions were attended. Plans were made. Deadlines were missed. I lost myself in the whole eruption of materialistic orgasms. Not being able text “my favorite mistake” didn’t help either. So here’s hoping that the next few months will be something to celebrate about.

Places To Watch The Annihilation Of Cricket Australia On Saturady.

CH is nice. Proper Sri Lankan cricket match atmosphere. Cheap but due to the crowd, service is poor. You have to buy grub and booze for the entire night in one go coz you won’t get another chance. Eat or drink to kabba limit would cost you approx. Rs. 1500.

Cheers is more wanna-be. Tries very hard to serve the local cricket flavor and succeeds to a certain extent. Excellent service. Not the place you can reel off four letter words about Ricky Pointings mother though. That sota takes away half the fun doesn’t it? Eat or drink to kabba limit would cost you approx. Rs. 3000-4000.

Bayleaf has simply lost it. Bayleaf is great as Bayleaf and not as a CH wanna be again. Fails miserably as a recommended place to watch the match. Place was great during the football world cup last year. The white plastic tables take the entire beauty of the lawn away. Sad case of affairs Harpo. Eat or drink to kabba limit would cost you approx. Rs. 4000-5000.

Sugar is recommended for a more sedated match. Ideal for England vs. West Indies on a Sunday. Nice music. Excellent service. Though you would miss the match if a tall goon is seated at the bar as that would cover your view of the screen. Eat or drink to kabba limit would cost you approx. Rs. 3000-4500.

Tramps was like Bon Jovi. A metrosextual rock musician. The novelty of having a Papare band in side a club made me go check it out. Band was excellent. In Sri Lanka no matter where you watch the match from a good papare band gets you in to the mood. The sad part was that on the day I went there the bar closed at 12mn. However it’s a great place to party, not exactly a great place to watch a match. Eat or drink to kabba limit would cost you approx. Rs. 5000-6000.

I’m too fucking spoilt to go Parliament grounds but assume that would be one of the best places to watch if you don’t have your own giant screen. Crazy fans, you can talk about not only Ricky Pointings mother but his grandmother too, cheap food, you take your own booze. Nice don’t you think? Eat or drink to kabba limit would cost you approx. Rs.1000.

Don’t even sight Inn on the Green. Too expensive. No giant screen. Too many expats. Not enough swearing.

Please feel free to add other places of your choice.

Another Old Incomplete Post.

It’s not even mid December yet and I’m already getting in to the Roy-Tho mood!! With the Roy-Tho looking for sponsors, guess I got involved sooner I suppose. For some reason or the other you just can’t beat this feeling. I guess, like most that attended either school, I too lead a sorry life and gets excited over a “bloody cricket match” played between two schools!!! Fools watching fools in flannels. Those of you, who don’t understand, don’t even try. We are just retarded. It’s as simple as that.

I’m not going to write about some big match that happened long time ago or about a scintillating inning played by some fool. The year was 1996. My last year in college. Initial pledge was to start studing for A’ Levels from the first of Jan and then take a break during March and start again after the Mustangs Trophy. My plan went as far as my plan. Cricket World Cup happened, Roy-Tho was played, rugby season came a long. You wouldn’t believe the events you have to attend in you final year at college!!! Thank god some smart blighter decided to sabotage the Electricity Board and the exam was postponed by a month. First instance I started believing in God.

Anyway as I started, the year was 1996. At Tuesdays special assembly, Warden W.M.N De Alwis appointed the cricket captain as a college prefect and issued a death warrant against all who would be breaking the law in the next couple of days. The threat was remembered till around 10.00am. Approximately till 5 minutes after assembly was over. Come Wednesday morning a small crowd of around 120 creatures clad in different shades of blue and black meet on top of Orbanside Street Dehiwala. Trying hard to look as inconspicuous as possible. However war paint made us stand out like…….

We wait a good 45 minutes for our ride. A C.T.B half bus!!! Don’t even ask how we got a C.T.B bus to go trucking. Somebody can still go to jail for that!! How 50 teenage boys, 6 members of a papare band, a driver and a conductor fitted in to a 45 seat mini bus still don’t fail to amaze me!!

So we make our way in to Colombo and girls schools. First stop, Bishops College. Of course. This school always made me feel privileged. The only girls’ school in Colombo a boy was allowed to just walk in to, as long as he had either blue, gold or black war paint on him. Structured classrooms, obliging teachers and generous students. That’s like, a hat collecting Thomians wet dream!! Except for one social studies master who didn’t know the secan but was soon taught, everything was a rewarding experience. Your truily and Amila, the opening fast bowler the next day, takes up the challenge of conducting the year 11 history lesion as the teacher was not available. History always fascinated me!!

We exit as peacefully was we entered, passing the Double-Decker bus. Ah, that bus. I am yet to come across a Thomian who has not given thanks and prays to that bus. I love that bus. Next stop St. Bridgets Convent. I remember SBC now with more affection than then. High gates, higher walls (with spikes, what purpose they serve at such an altitude one fails to comprehend) and young security guards. One girls school which didn’t believe in hiring sweet retired old men. All of us generally charge the gate when we sense hostility. In the cheos that follows, a handful will penetrate the forward defense lines of any security measurement. Somehow the gates withstood the force of the blue army. Yours truly and the now infamous Malaka Silva climb the penitentiary like wall. Hurray! Penetration successful. Now we will attack from both sides. Unfortunately the wiseasses on the other side decide the effort was not worthwhile. Now we were prisoners of war. Shit. I fail to remember how but we somehow get on top of the 12 feet high wall. Jumping off it to the tar pavement is another story all together. To add to the agony Malakas’ t-shirt gets caught on one of the spikes. He yells at me to let go. I tell him that I’m not holding on. He threatens to jump. I ask him to fuck off. The next sight haunts me to this day. Malaka bare bodied running to the mercy of the bus while his t-shirt hangs on one of the wall spikes at SBC!!!

We go all the way down to the beach just to get in to Methodist College. Here I end up taking an English class but gets shooed away by the teacher who arrives late. I exit the class by writing down Umeshs’ home number for those who want private tuition. Sadly that never got us anywhere. The most chaotic was HFC Bambalapitiya. It was the mid day break. And when a horde of boys invade a girls school at a time like that, you wouldn’t believe the amount of Chinese rolls one gets to eat!! The most outrageous moment was when Sister Maxine (who’s name we got to know later) pointing to the gate and asking us to “Get out” and Nishantha “Willa” Wickramasinghe taking her hand and kissing it!!! I could have died laughing. Good thing we turned heel and ran or else I would be still at HFC laughing.

Come 1.30pm we end up at Ladies College. Another girl’s school I love in Colombo. Whoever who said that walls were built to be jumped over, built that wall. A Nissan Hilux with the most infamous of the Chikera boys in it enter the school. If he knew the ordeal he had to face, he wouldn’t have mooned Ladies College with his rugby jersey on!!..............................