What’s in a name?

[P.S. I sincerely apologize to those who might be offended by the following blog…and will remove it as soon as I get my first threat, for I admit, it’s gonna be sliiiiightly racist…]

Here are some Sri Lankan cricketers;
Uda Walawwe Mahim Bandaralage Chanaka Asanga Welegedara,
Warnakulasuriya Patabendige Ushantha Joseph Chaminda Vaas,
Herath Mudiyanselage Rangana Keerthi Bandara Herath,
Rupasinghe Jayawardene Mudiyanselage Gihan Madushanka Rupasinghe,
Hewasandatchige Asiri Prasanna Wishvanath Jayawardene…

[Kudos to the ‘Copy & Paste’ command! And cricinfo.com!]
I purposely put a comma in between so you guys won’t confuse it as one elongated name. Now, why do names have to be this loooong?! Okay, I can understand to a certain extent…like mine’s not short either…but it ain’t 55 letters!

I don’t know if there’s a similar practice followed in other cultures whether people are “blessed” with painstakingly-stretched names…but since I watch cricket and amongst all cricketers, it’s the Lankans who beat everyone’s asses in the name game.

It’s the Sinhalese tradition to inherit one’s name from the parents, caste, district, village...and the real name! Coming to think what game the ancestors had in mind…they might have been like “Look guys, I don’t want any name repeated. Let’s introduce this inheriting system for making sure everyone’s unique!” And those cunning dudes probably had names like Jose or Peter!

Never mind the weirdness of the anti-brevity, but this also causes problems. Sri Lankan names actually caused computers at Italian Immigration Offices to break down, seriously! Don’t trust me? Feel enlightened by clicking below;

http://www.lankanewspapers.com/news/2007/12/22962.html

And after hearing about C.A.T severs breaking down in several major cities in our country…Lankans might be using supercomputers everywhere! Be it schools, hospitals, banks!!

Because of this aspect, you could start a whole new race of racist jokes…like Sardarji or Sasi jokes…the Lankan jokes. Here are some I cooked up in past 15 minutes;

1) Sri Lankan mother ,”Son, why didn’t you write anything in the Board exams?”
Son ,”Mom, they insisted on writing full name in the answer paper!”

2) How does a suspicious Sri Lankan get questioned by an anti-terrorist squad?
“Spell out your name now!! Fast!!!”

3) How does a Sri Lankan sign?
He simply writes his initials!

4) Why do Lankan theatres show only one movie a day?
‘Coz though the movie is 2 hours long, the credits never seem to end!

5) What would a Lankan remake of ‘Raju Ban Gaya Gentleman’, or ‘Neal N’ Nikki’, be renamed as?
That’s left to you guyz!

6) What’s the most tedious profession in Sri Lanka?
Person who takes the census!

7) Who have the thickest passports in the world? (Including parents’ names!)
Guess!

8) Think of all the certificates (resumes, driver’s license, birth) you need full names, the Lankans will have 2 sheets of each!

9) Think when a baby is born to couple of mathematicians, their conversation will go like, “Hubby, if it’s a boy, let’s name him ∫(-∞ to 0)JWHPCL… , or if it’s a girl….” Or it could be “Honey, can you help me with this permutation and combination problem? I was trying to find a set of initials, but the calculator crashed after 26C10!”

10) There’s this Hindu tradition of whispering the baby’s name into his ears. What if a Sri Lankan followed that tradition? A Sri-Lankan baby to another who had just been named ,”What was that prayer my grand dad just whispered into my ears?” “That wasn’t a prayer dumbass, that was your freaking name!”

11) What’s the usual imposition for a Lankan student?
Write your name 50 times!
What if he repeats the mistake?
Write your parents’ names too!

12) Sri Lankan fairy-tales are like character novels, and character novels are like epics!

13) Think of a dramatic ending to a Sri Lankan movie, where the hero dies halfway through his final dialogue while citing names!

14) A Sri Lankan’s nickname would be his actual name! [Hey…this is fact!]

15) A Sri Lankan filling a sample form;
Name : (blah...blah… saga)
Address : given above!
Parents’ names : also given above!
Hmmm….this is actually economical ink-wise….you could save space on a postcard you know…like just address it to the name!

Oh man…15 minutes and 15 PJ’s...that’s like PJ-a-minute! C’mon, you must have come up with a few yourself by now…chip in!!

Sreesanth n’ Bhajji kickin’ som Lankan ass now(188/4)…adios!

One depressed mind…leaving a hundred minds depressed

26 November 2009, one of our college mates committed suicide…something that was unthoughtful, unnecessary, and above all…something that could have been easily avoided, needless to say.

The news reached us the next morning, leaving us utterly shocked at his act. Suicide wasn’t the word that occurred to us…whoever knew him were convinced that it was an accident…or even murder…only if it wasn’t for the note he left behind.

The usual game of rumours started, and at the end of the day, academic depression was the answer to satisfy the question “Why the hell did he do it?” But again, we aren’t willing to accept that he was that weak at heart, nor that he was too strong to do such a thing, and that too, at the gravity at which he had done.

I was fortunate to know him because he belonged to my club…and it just took minutes to bond with him. He was talented, fun, heart-warming, innocent…a valuable asset. Though being two years senior to him, he left a significant gash on me…and I decline to even think of the impact he left on his colleagues, and parents.

He did speak of his unlucky tales; attendance shortage, low marks…but he simply passed off everything with a smile…I never would have come close to thinking how much pain he hid beneath that expression…I was grossly misled.

He is nothing now but simply a thought…an evanescent thought…which time will slowly corrode from our hearts. “Out of sight, out of mind”…a phrase I hate because it speaks out its meaning so bluntly, yet it’s true.

But the question that will continue to nag me is why he (a person so conversational) didn’t get personal with anyone. Was his ego so strong that he was led to believe that speaking out his damaged feelings would actually reflect on him as a feeble person? Many people do not seek to share their depression because they believe that it is the result of a personal weakness or character blemish. This is simply not f**king true. Guys, all I want to say is that whatever emotional aspect you have, treat it not by locking it in your head, brooding over it and amassing needless tension…attend to it with your friend’s help…the burden will reduce and you will be able to think straight again.

And Aryan...
We miss you da.

The Beauty of Glory Personification!

This was just a passing thought when I got out after watching 'Kerala Varma Pazhassi Raja', starring the all-time Mammooty, written by M.T. Vasudevan Nair. According to me, the movie, though a trifle long, was definitely worth-a-watch...something new, different and entertaining (finally!) from Mollywood. The budget of the movie was sound in its every scene, plus the performances from Sarath Kumar, Manoj K.Jayan, Suresh Krishnan and Padmapriya were simply memorable. The 'chuttuval' scene was incredible. And bravo for Resul too.

Enough said about the movie, now about the thought that passed (before it completely passes out!). Many ought know about Pazhassi Raja being the sole resistance to the British tyranny. But there's no definite story about how he died...some accounts say he was wounded in the war with Thomas Baber (when his men surrounded him), others say he committed suicide by swallowing the crystal in his ring, thus refusing to surrender to British Rule (this I read in Amar-Chitra-Katha: Freedom Fighters!).

Anyways, now since the movie's out, the image of the Pazhassi prince has been renewed with vigour...the majestic looks of Mammooty, extreme martial abilities and fearless valour (especially the scene when he single-handedly strikes back following Chandu's death!). Not only he, let it be any character whose myth survived the ages, only looking for a script and a producer to be sculpted into a movie...they have been glorified to an extent which even they, looking down from the heavens above, will be wondering, "Damn! Wish I'd been so cool!!!". I mean, wouldn't it be awesome for yourself to be remembered for something you weren't actually responsible for, or for capabilties you didn't actually possess? I'm not saying Pazhassi Raja wasn't a great warrior, mind you! But being the best of his kind? Could or couldn't have been...

It's just being born at the right place and at the right time...in this case at a time before the 1800's(!), when historical accounts lose their accuracy. Definitely in this age, it's impossible to pass out with an achievement that isn't truly yours...with scores of organizations ready to test its authenticity, and multitudinous others ready to sue you with plagiarism laws. You have to be what you embody!

For a good read on Pazhassi, check the following blog;
http://malabardays.blogspot.com/2007/08/thomas-babers-account-of-end-of-pyche_12.html

Polite-Tricks!

(This is neither an attempt to increase the no.of hits in this otherwise pretty non-existent blog, nor to increase the probability of me getting hits…this was written far before EyeOfNitc and FakeNitcBlogger, and from a neutral perspective.)

You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”
- Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight

A famous quote from one of the best movies ever made. Batman eventually made the harsh decision of taking the responsibility of the murders so that the Joker didn’t win at the end (If you didn’t see The Dark Knight, believe me, it’s a crime and you need to be hunted down!). But most thought “Why did he have to take the blame?” This might be due to the Bollywood mentality that is lodged in our minds right from childhood, that is, many of us can’t stand an unhappy ending for our hero. “He went through all this sh*t, for this?” But I got my answer in scope of a few months experiencing college life…strangely, college does teach you life lessons.
Politics is a scary word. It always comes down to mud-slinging and lobbying. There’s no room for ethics and truth to make any real impact. And social relations turn into political gimmicks when the big ‘equivalent of happiness’ comes into play – money.

“Money, it’s a crime.
Share it fairly but don’t take a slice of my pie.
Money, so they say
Is the root of all evil today.
But if you ask for a raise it’s no surprise that they’re
Giving none away.”

- Pink Floyd

And with money comes power. That’s the basics. Now getting into the real picture –
When you enter college as a first year, all you wanna do is make lots of friends, make yourself prominent in friend circles. You want the circle to become huge, show off your unity to the senior years, thinking that it would stun them or provoke them from ragging you. You give your group a name, print it on t-shirts, store loads of group photos on your comps…terming them as the best moments of your lives. The intention is good; you want the whole year to be united and decisions to be unanimous, in fact, that’s the way how things should be. But does this ideology survive for long?

Think about it. However strong your bonds are with others, you are all different people. Some might be the ones who are really talented and work or don’t work their asses off, others are those who have no particular talent but execute well, some play second fiddle to these people, and then there are many who don’t care and just wanna have fun.

So imagine a situation where a decision is to be made. Different people voice their opinions- it is inevitable that the final decision made is flawed, but the right opinion is in one of the individuals’ minds and he isn’t supported. Chances are so unlikely that he’s gonna walk off citing that people didn’t heed his advice. He will force himself to believe that that’s best for the group and keep mum. For the simple reason he doesn’t want to be left out.

Then when a group is huge, there are gonna be individuals who feel they don’t belong to or play any role in the group’s decision-making process and gradually break-off. They may choose to silently work on their own. Bottom-line – it’s tough to include everyone satisfactorily.
Now comes the case of positions of power and handling money matters. The following sequence of events occur –
1) You choose your leaders and decide among your group who is worthy of the highest posts.
2) But there are people outside the group who seem to be worthy too, but they don’t have an enormous following as your leader. But you find difficulty accepting him just because he’s not a part of your group. Your leader will obviously want the power so dearly (Come on, who doesn’t want the authority of being answerable to no one and money under your control?), that he has to cook up games to run him down.
3) Then starts the saga of mass masquerading – acquaintances forcibly turned to ‘conditional’ friends – I do this favour for you, so you do this for me.
4) Things turn worse, your following starts taking credit for events run in college which couldn’t have been run without others’ help.
5) Then to prove yourselves, you end up sidelining the people who had worked all the while and ‘teach them a lesson’ not to mess with you.
6) Finally, there is a rift, and the election.
7) The ambitious ones will win, while the ethical ones end up cribbing as to why they had wasted their time, which could have been judiciously spent learning a word or two and improving grades.
8) They will, sooner or later, be paid for trying to do anything defaming your group.

Let me paint an even bigger picture. Let those late-realizers who think that something can be done using truth as a weapon and basically vying for lost dignity before they leave college – be the heroes. Let’s assume a Bollywood ending to our story, and due to some impossible magic, the heroes with their honesty win. Now, it is their duty to ensure that such ‘groupism’ doesn’t haunt the college anymore. So they have to discourage the already existing ones in the junior years. What has to happen? Do you possibly think an overnight advice is going to break up their ideology? The heroes too will have to play games, break-up and sideline the junior group…wait, aren’t these the traits of the villain too? How different are the current heroes from the past villains?

Remember Harvey Dent’s quote. If the ethical people lost (die a hero), their idea will remain. An idea won’t die, and will ultimately inspire someone in the later years to stand up to the atrocities in their respective year. But is there a solution to all of this? Try as hard as you can, involve your IITian friends too, but trust me, you would be imagining a perfect world where individuals will get voted with full justice and these individuals too, use their power and money judiciously. If individuals stand for an election, there will be smaller groups supporting them. And to win, there will be campaigning, and politics creeps back into the scenario. Only grace being that it is on a much smaller scale comparatively. Once whosoever is in power, there might be dissatisfaction for others, and rumours, true or false, will circulate.

What do you gain from all of this? Unless you want a post, nothing. Just the ephemeral feeling that your group won, or distraught after losing everything. Logically, it’s best not to be involved in groups. Make some trustworthy friends whom you can bank upon after college life. But this ideology will wither once you want to do something for your college. So concentrate on your academics (That will require some serious concentration! How are you gonna sit simply when people beside you are working, and enjoying getting credited with success of events?). But if you can’t stand up to a small problem in college, how are you gonna face dirtier setbacks in life?

Committees should be headed by those who have worked dearly for it in their junior years and know how things are run and have the capability to take wise decisions. If this is the case, then whosoever is in power is of no concern, that is, he shouldn’t be the one taking decisions and showing favouritism – it’s those who are currently running the show. That will curb most of the problems, at the least. That too is a happy ending. Frankly, Bollywood = real life is an equation that is solved only in ‘Slumdog Millionaire’!

An 'I am Legend' rip-off 4 my cult-fest newsletter

DAY 376, MARCH 2008

TIME: 7 a.m.

The sun’s finally out. I think it’s safe to venture out of my hiding. The infected species must be exhausted, they will be resting now. It’s been like this for the last 375 days. I have lost hope. I feel I am the last survivor in my world.
I walk through the lanes where it all began. A massive crowd had gathered in this structure, called the Open Air Theatre (O.A.T). They were misled by an event called ‘Ragam’ that was supposed to begin that night. I was among the fortunate few not to know about it. When it began, all I remember were these super-charged hyper-energized creatures, every movement of theirs dance-like, running berserk, calling out to those uninfected to experience the ultimate. I shut myself from all the fervor, which was fast spreading into an epidemic. I stepped out only by the next morning, same like today. Out of curiosity (which till today lurks in me) to know what transformed the humans, I walked through these very lanes. The place was breathtaking; every building along the path standing out in its own superb decoration. Capping it all was an astonishing work of art at the Main Block circle. Something seemed to relate them; I guess it was ‘Games of Chance’, getting this idea from a caption on a poster, saying ‘where the die rolls seven’. I remember seeing many stalls strewn here and there, billboards of big-shot sponsors and an ‘Informals’ stage (this was to be noisiest place for the upcoming days). After a couple of hours, all of a sudden I heard voices…announcements regarding the commencement of events, and I noticed a ob approaching from a distance. I fled back to my hiding.
I got out the following morning, and this time I saw beautiful rangolis, striking clay models, classy pencil-sketches and paintings, interesting cartoons, elegant vegetable-carvings amd what not. What drove these people to do all this? That very night, loud music resounded from the O.A.T like never before, as if a high-profile entertainer was on song. I took all precautions to isolate my ears from the sound and save myself from the highly infectious disease. After three days, the activity died down. But afraid of what to expect, I have living like this for all the while. I am tired of this lethargic life. But wait! What do I see now? There’s a new caption hanging here. It says ‘my muse, my canvas’. Oh! The MB circle looks grand with coloured blocks; this whole place has been decorated again. I am mustering up all my courage to conquer my urge to know the truth…I am going to get out tonight and see for it all by myself. I am the last…mankind will ever see.

TIME: 6 p.m.

Here I am in the O.A.T, all ready to face the worst. The music has begun to flow; there are scores of them rushing in. oh my, what’s happening to me? My feet are getting into the groove, my body is moving fanatically. I am freaking out. I know I am infected with the virus. The ‘Ragam’ virus…

Another suicide note!

Now, how to write a suicide note? As it is, I’m fed up of everything that’s come across my life. But I have no alternative, and this is necessary, to avoid any complications by the law.

I had a lot of expectations, I must say, when I first stepped foot into this college. I thought I would reap treasures. A top-notch job, a stupendous bike, a posh apartment, an amazing girl…I studied well. My first bouts of depression began when my first relationship with Rosy (name changed) hit the rocks. The global recession only added salt to my wounds. My plans…and dreams…all were foiled. I was introduced to the drug that many associated with peace and ecstasy. I felt like the bohemian, being able to smoke so freely. I didn’t know there was another side to this exciting feel of self-indulgence. Depression hit harder and faster when I came to my senses, and I had to pine for my next smoke. I’m not simply prone to depression. I’m depressed because I’m unemployed, and had to face an umpteen number of unsuccessful interviews. I’m depressed because my affairs have always been petty compared to my love for Rosy. I’m a chalked-out mess. This drug, which once felt like heaven, has brought only paranoia and contempt into my relationships.

Aaah…this has given ample time for my blood to create a red sea …my eyelids feel like weights, a similar experience when I am too high…

My Last Offering

Ria, I have finally decided.
31 years I have rotted in prison. Today’s the first time I smell the fresh air. Of ‘freedom’.
Health and wealth once existed in my life. Orphaned by birth, I worked hard and bought a farm. The farm grew big. My business reaped profit. Soon I had workers of my own. I erected a cozy house. I loaned six tractors mortgaging my farm. I wed a beautiful girl too, Ria. She was the first whom I called family. Life was heavenly. Until…
My world came crashing down. Ria was found dead in the kitchen. Raped and strangled. The butler named a worker. Needless to say, I went berserk. I took hold of my farm gun. I stormed out and found him. Before he could say a word, I pumped lead into him. Thrice. Each shot satisfying my burning revenge. But as he breathed his last, he pointed to the butler. He tried to flee, but I killed him too. I stood in the midst of the blood, a weak smile appearing on my grieving face.
I was arrested and convicted. For the murder of two innocent employees. With no sufficient proof they were in any way involved with the death of Ria, I was sentenced to Life imprisonment. Justice was bad those days. At first, I didn’t depress. Who else was there to live for, anyway?
The jail term was worse. Day and night, I was immersed in her. I refused to eat or did I read. I grew weak and was driven to insanity. I was sifted for rehabilitation. A few years of treatment and good conduct henceforth earned me enough sympathy to reduce my sentence.
And here I am. I find the new experience rather shocking. I sought change in me once I was freed. But the whole world has changed. A lot. Without me in it. Nothing has been more difficult than recognizing the place I once called home. It looks so different. My land had been confiscated. On my fields stand giant buildings. The sky isn’t blue, there isn’t an inch of greenery around. There’s no peace here. Only endless noise. Smoke blinds my eyes. I was orphaned before, I feel orphaned again, by the world. I was planning to start all over, but what is square one? No, I don’t belong here. Nor am I going back to prison. I want to live in my gleeful memories again. I had thought many a time of ending my chapter. Now the urge is simply throbbing. I apologize to all for the inconvenience caused by my carcass. I look at my only possession, my wedding ring, studded with a precious stone. So tempting, this taste of death…it is going to be my last meal…

January 1978
Jake Philips