Lungi’s hour of glory!!!

Datuk Shahrukh sensed southern spice (Masala) sells and intends to stay stuck even though a kkkkkiran Khan in Dar sounded and looked much better than ‘indha madhiri appon irrupanna’ at the climax in Chennai Express.

King Khan looked more like King Kong in this one. Doesn’t matter with the ancestral looks, Khan ended up laughing, laughing at us all the way, to the coffers.

I know enough has been written about Chennai Express over the last few weeks and I might be the last one on the block. However, I felt I should offer my 2 cents too on the blogosphere, where else will I rant about my contribution to the 250 odd crores that found its way to his kitty.

This blog is not a review of Chennai Express but just focusses on the USP of this movie the Lungi dance and the positioning of lungi that contributed to the success. The bored economists having nothing much to write about since the Indian rupee had turned a chronic alcoholic, hitting a new high every day, started to analyse the impact of this movie on the business of lungi’s bottom line, just that the bottom line needs to be always up literally, if the lungi needs to be in the limelight.

The humble lungi a rectangular piece of cloth, all of 2 M X 1.15 M that covers the modesty of a man and much more, was an inseparable piece of cloth that doubled and tripled as a single bedspread and as an aerator, during the torrid Madras summers and as a comforter during the mild Madras winters, or even as a shade during mild drizzles. We did not need quilts for the winter all we needed was our unassuming lungis that looked like Scottish Kilts when we wore it all folded up with pride especially if it had Madras checks as its design. I remember during my growing up years when all of my cousins or a group of friends had a today’s equivalent of a sleepover we used to wake up in lungis that did not belong to us and were not the ones that we went to sleep in. Thankfully some sensible soul (looks like I’m on a ‘S’ trip since I started writing this) managed to invent the version of the lungi where its ends were stitched together which transformed a 2 dimensional rectangular piece of cloth to a 3 dimensional cylindrical structure that could save you from many an embarrassments the morning after when the unbridled end went astray.

The lungi was to the South Indian what denim was to the cowboys of the Wild West. Sad that Microsoft prompted me to use the upper case for W for wild and west when I typed them together and not for the S and I of South Indian. Sadly my friends, the lungi are a minority.

Now to the lungi dance in Chennai Express. Having a song in Hindi punctuated with Thalaivar, Rajini fans and the likes is a sure recipe for success at least in box offices down south. I will just take a couple of verses from the song and analyse it. Here it goes….

‘Moochhon ko thoda round ghumake
Anna ke jaisa chashma lagake
Coconut me lassi milake’

Moochon…give me a break Khan or the Khans haven’t seen anything growing below their nose, rather immediately below their nose for ages and ‘Anna ke jaisa chashma lagake’ was a failed attempt by King Khan.
‘Coconut me lassi milake’ can only come from a someone called Yo Yo Honey Singh who happens to write the lyrics and score music for this song.

‘All the Rajini fans - Thalaivar
Don't miss the chance - Thalaivar
All the Rajini fans - Thalaivar
Don't miss the chance - Do This!
Lungi dance, lungi dance...’

This was the USP of the movie.
Now coming to the most controversial part.

‘Lungi ko uthana padega
Step karke dikhana padega’
‘All the Rajini fans - Thalaivar
Don't miss the chance - Thalaivar
All the Rajini fans - Thalaivar
Don't miss the chance - Do This’

This is what I call the “Choli ke peeche Kya hai” equivalent of a song. I remember the calls to ban the song when it was released. Now read the above lyrics in conjunction with the chorus. This should have been banned in my opinion. Why should the Rajini fans want to see what’s down under.

At the end of the day, I'm happy that the Lungi was endorsed and adorned by SRK and the pretty Padukone. It will certainly go a long way in catapulting the lungi to the cat walks. Imagine the Khans, Padukones, and the Kapoors walking the ramp in lungis designed by the Manish Malhotras, the Satya Pauls and the Sabyasachis. Hopefully they in turn lead to the Versace’s, the Calvin Klein’s and Dolce & Gabbana’s launching lungis as their fashion statement of the season.

In pursuit of yogic nirvana...

When you are past forty your wives suddenly realise that THEY need healthy husbands or rather more conservatively, A HEALTHY HUSBAND around when they turn forty too, as a result of which I was forced out of bed one fine winter morning and dragged to a yoga class my wife had enrolled me into without my knowledge. On meeting my guru I clearly told him that I was not in pursuit of any packs since I had all my packs tucked in one and the only six pack I knew was the one I emptied on weekends.

What followed were weeks of aching joints caused by efforts to reach out to unexplored regions on my body (to be read as touching my toes without bending my knees), should you have any misconceptions on the regions I was trying to reach out to.

Crash course on asanas followed, and soon realised that I was half an assana all these years for not having led a healthy lifestyle. What followed were lessons on Tibetan five rites, Sufi Trance and then a briefing on aligning your life to the Meridien Organ Clock. For those like me who heard these terms for the first time, the explanations follow, but those who know what these are already, thank you for dropping by, as I figure out that you are one of those health conscious folks around.

Thanks to my guru I learnt that my body had various spinning psychic vortexes and as the spin rates reduced with aging, ill health surfaces. So in order to keep the spin rate high I had to spin. Ironically, I’m someone who earns a living as an Hydraulic Engineer telling people around me that Vortices are bad and they need to be broken or slowed down to increase the life of a rotating machinery like a centrifugal pump, Here I was being taught on how to increase the spin rate of my psychic vortex. I didn’t have the courage to tell him that after 7PM most of the nights I was on a perpetual spin and followed the motion of the earth and the universe with all earnest (though at times did try to change the course and failed).

So, as instructed I began to spin and soon realised the effect of physical spinning was way difficult to handle than the C2H5OH (In the Spirit of Chemistry!) induced spin I experience on occasional evenings just that the occasions happened every evening. Well I would have been happy if I was challenged physically with the spinning alone since that was something that I was used to. I was asked to immediately follow it up with 4 other rigorous exercises under the influence of the not so spirited spin, this I was told was what the Tibetan monks did and that I would attain monk like qualities. All I wanted was a Ferrari and never sell it and here I was being trained to be monk like. I loved the Old Monks though; they are the ones who taught me to spin the first time around.

Following this was my course on meridian organ clock where I learnt about the time of the day when my organs are up and about…I meant my liver, lung, pancreas, heart and the likes. Learnt that my liver was most active between 1AM and 3 AM, forcing me to take a tough decision on doing away with my late night binges and start as early as possible.

I should say that the one fine winter morning changed the course of my life and now I lead a life of asanas, pranayamas, Tibetan Rites and wake up to the alarms of my meridian organ clock. My advice is, follow your wife to the yoga class you are dragged to…and be sarvangassnically (Sarvangaasana = An aasana (posture) where you do a shoulder stand) in English to be head over heels in love with her for showing you the ‘steady’ path to a rejuvenated life when you spent wasting most of it trying to crack the relationship between the spin rate and the bonding between the right ethanol - water mixture.

A no frills drink in a no frills airline.

Recently Dubai launched its very own low cost carrier or more euphemistically called a ‘budget airline’ or more relevant 'Austerity Airline' Fly Dubai. A no frills airline with in flight buying option which tempt the hell out of you. The products were so wonderfully displayed in their in-flight magazine called very aptly 'Fly Buy Dubai'.

While browsing through it during my maiden 45 minute flight, what impressed me was the beverages section of their in-flight catering services…keeping a short flight in mind they had a tailor made menu…pre mixed canned Bacardi & Coke and premixed Gin & tonic were on offer… (Sometimes Coke and Tonic can cost more than your drink)what better to up the spirits of a tired business traveller in a 45 min flight. A quickie of sorts… Or as they say in my native tongue a 'Nippan' (Having a quick drink standing in a bar) just that in this case it was a 'parappan' ( A drink while having a quick flight)

The flamboyance of simplicity

Back after a hiatus and the inspiration to return to the blogosphere with my thoughts were 2 print adds I saw recently in a business magazine.

One was titled the ‘Power of Simplicity’ and went on to mention that ‘simplicity might be hard to achieve but it’s worth the effort’. They might have been referring to the simplicity of its design but the product itself was no symbol of simplicity. The brand name and simplicity could not even be linked oxymoronically.

The product was a car and the brand was the Rolls Royce, Ghost.



Flip a couple of pages in the same magazine and viola!!! You have the image of one of the simplest men the world has known, endorsing one of the most premium of brands. What more, they have even launched a limited edition series in tribute to his words?

It is an irony that there are many an anecdotes in the life of Gandhi looking for a small piece of pencil gifted to him by a child, and another one about sending his grandson to look for an even smaller one which was thrown away. The irony was the product that was endorsed was also an or rather THE writing instrument…A Mont Blanc limited edition pen.



Was just wondering whether in these trying times even the most expensive of brands were taking the simplicity/austerity route…’a feel no guilt when you splurge’ approach.

Tryst with the late thirties…

I came face to face (or was it head on) with this moment of revelation at my neighbourhood barber’s (oops Hair stylists). I was offered one more service at the end of my hair cut, by my barber, ‘Sir, Do you want a Hair Dye / Colouring get done?’ and he had the cheek to follow it up with a recommendation on hair transplants …and the likes.

I realised for the first time that I was on the wrong side of the thirties!!! Or atleast my head was…

Well not really the first time… during the last few haircuts I have been realising it…The remnants of my locks that were being chopped off that fell on the white cloth adorning me were getting greyer. The greys had begun to outnumber the blacks…Shades of wisdom I comforted myself. The time spent at the barbers chair is one of introspection…and with the question that I was confronted today I knew that reality had dawned or rather the age had begun to dusk on me…

Well, when I entered my thirties I was subtle in mentioning my age and would say I was thirty something…I just realised I am thirty ‘more than something…’

Return of the prodigal...

Haven’t been around for a while now. The prodigal blogger returns. The last few weeks I bit into the apple and flirted with the social networking sites (FB) and its lil chirpy cousin Twitter. Since every one I knew, were on FB and Twitter and was told that these are the 2 most happening places to be in or rather be ‘signed’ in…I didn’t want to look a pariah & got myself registered on both, for a been there! done that! feeling. Did I enjoy it??? Though I don’t have a definitive answer yet, I don’t think I will like it as much as I like my blogging. The letter restrictions kill me in Twitter…One liners are fun when cracked in real not typed virtually and on FB you end up discussing on topics as mundane as a ‘Yawn’ to as abstract as the trajectory of an electron. Or as a friend quiet rightly put it as an electron talking to itself…Electron Monologues definitely sounds boring when compared to Vaginal Monologues…
Somehow all this virtual stuff is kinda killing me… I need a break and the REAL me needs to sit across a REAL table or under a REAL tree with a REAL friend or more and have a REAL drink or 2 or 3 and TALK…I mean talk and not type…

The Ghajini Resolution

I was asked what my New Year resolution would be, I said I’m looking at a 6 or a 8 Pack a la Aamir Khan in Ghajini…but unfortunately my hairline seen to be receding faster than the fat around my tummy and it looks like I could well be on the way to emulate Aamir as far as the hair style in Ghajini goes. I’m not sure about the angle of intersection of those two lines on his head & wish I knew them, cos that holds the key to success or so says an old wise crack in Malayalam that goes like this ‘Ellam Thala vara polla nadukkum’ Translated as ‘you will be as successful as the lines on your head’. The moolah that Aamir is raking out of this movie seems to justify this age old adage.

So by the end of 2009 you guys will soon see pictures of mine with a shaven or is it a fallen hairline but with 2 lines intersecting at the Ghajini angle…

Wishing you all a great New Year.

Merry Christmas!!!

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas…

I’m posting this at the wee hours of Christmas morning after having gift wrapped gifts for my daughters and placing it under the Christmas tree.... playing Santa. We don’t have Chimneys down here, so had to convince my daughter to leave the window open for Santa to sneak in.

Cheers for a safe Christmas. Don’t Drink and drive instead dirnk dna wtire

A Week of Flip Flops and Shoes…

This has been a rather entertaining week of Flip flops; Shoes and President elect six packs.

Let’s start with the Flip flops, Pakistan seem to be in a holiday mood and slipped on their ‘flip flops’ the entire week. Their statements were as slippery as the slippers or the flip flops. Asif Ali Zardari flipped ‘non state actors are responsible for the Mumbai attacks’ and then flopped by saying that ‘non state actors on their soil were his responsibility’ and almost immediately not to be out done, our gud ol friend Nawaz Sheriff who has spent more time in exile than in Pakistan flipped that he had personally checked out on the lone surviving terrorist’s Pakistani links and confirmed it and then went on to flop saying that India needs to provide evidence that Sir (‘Night’hood here …cos the boy has probably seen his daylights removed in the past days) Kasab was from Pakistan.

The next was the poor Iraqi journo getting the projectile all wrong or was it that Mr. Bush well trained in the last 8 years on the art of avoiding being shoo shooed …All said and done in cricketing parlance the delivery was pretty flat and more ‘pie chucker like’ with not enough flight. The Middle East press gave Bush's Middle East 'footwear farewell' the best possible coverage. One freak did it out of sheer frustration and no more. Bush would have won a lot of brownie points had he actually pardoned the journo. It would definitely have done a world of good on his way out. Not that it’s going to matter anymore.

Finally the President elect Barack Obama was shot on camera by the erstwhile paparazzi literally in a ‘Kulli scene’ as they call it back home. Well as some one said there’s no supply without demand… we the public suck up to all the exclusives with a thirst for fantasy thereby encouraging such ridiculous acts of invasion of privacy.