Tag: Onam

  • Onam, OTT & Culture

    Until recently, I was a fan of Rajinikanth’s screen swag. It wasn’t just the recent releases that dampened my enthusiasm. When Kabali released, I was awed. Not just by the performance, but by what I then thought was statesmanship. That was when a Tamil colleague schooled me on contexts, including politics, that I had no clue about. Since then, though I haven’t stopped watching regional movies, I stop at an ” I liked/didn’t like it”.

    Onam reminded me of this. Or rather, it served as a trigger to write this. It began with the chatter around Malayalam films, thanks to OTT. Movies, I have believed, are a cultural phenomenon. On one hand, when someone who is not a Malayali talks up a movie, I am happy about the “cultural exchange”. When that develops into a misplaced sense of authority and expertise, it becomes irritating. When it goes into the level of actors apologising because idiots don’t get references, it becomes angst. Of course you have never heard of Pattanapravesham! You have to go 32 years back to know the damn context. “Can you please end subtitles?” Nuances, commentary, references are often lost in translation. But that’s a two-way street, and movies are a business. [Aside: This could be the next level of Amazon Prime’s X-Ray feature, or even an Alexa skill]

    Onam itself has been hijacked quite a bit by Insta influenza. In the real world, in non-Corona years, this means you hear “haath se khaana padega?”, if you’re waiting to pick up your sadya in a restaurant. Or, worse case, if you’re waiting for a table, all the best. The photoshoot takes time. But this is a relatively smaller threat. The larger one plays out on Twitter –  the politics of Vaman Jayanthi (h added for spite) vs Mahabali! With Malayalis participating instead of celebrating, with snide comments in Keralese. Ha! And all I want to do is wear my mundu, eat my sadya, drink alcohol, watch a movie and in general, have a nice day. That, I have realised, cannot co-exist with being present on social media on that day.

    Access to culture has become easy. You don’t need to learn Malayalam to watch a movie. You also don’t need a Malayali friend to eat a sadya. Both the language and the friend would have helped set context, and contributed to a deeper understanding. But who cares in the age of superficiality and instant gratification?

    I realise that a lot of this is just angst – at a couple of well kept secrets being commoditised, trivialised, and hijacked beyond redemption. I don’t really like labels, but at what point does this become cultural appropriation? Onam is only a few days. I am more worried about cinema. Because the presence of an observer changes what is created. With expanded audience comes more money. When products, and festivals start catering to new tastes, what becomes of the originals, and the audience they used to cater to?

    For now, vannonam, kandonam, thinnonam, pokkonam. Please.

    P.S. Self analysis: Is this how curmudgeons are born?

  • Act of Life

    Prithviraj (for those who might not know) is God’s Own Controversy’s Child, though the title has other strong contenders like Kochi Tuskers, and its star Sreesanth, and Ranjini Haridas, the compere who defies comparison. Prithviraj also stars in movies while he’s not busy adding credentials to the title. As you must have noticed from the last line, he’s a person who manages to polarise public opinion. 🙂

    Since any further commentary in this direction would have the potential to ignite a troll war, let’s get to the point of the post. Hailing from a family that can’t get more filmi (late father was a popular actor and Kerala’s own angry young man in his era, mother is an actress, brother is an actor and sister-in-law is an actress too), Prithviraj can usually be found within a few metres of the spotlight, if not in it. His interviews are a lot of fun. Reasonably well read, from what I can gather, highly opinionated, and oblivious of tact as a concept (something he himself acknowledges), he either makes intelligent conversation or tries to play footsie with his running mouth. (most recent example) Entertaining either way, and so I make it a point to watch his interviews.

    Thanks to our original underworld hero Mahabali almost being forgotten at Onam, and Prithviraj playing an underworld don in his Onam release, all the channels queued up to interview him. As always, they provided lots of fodder for hilarity. But the one on Kairali TV (I think) happened to be an interesting conversation, also thanks to the interviewer. Something that the actor said about working with Mani Ratnam in ‘Ravanan‘ caught my attention.

    Apparently, Mani Ratnam manages to identify and understand an actor’s comfort zones within a couple of days. He then proceeds to put them in situations they would find uncomfortable. His reasoning is that he doesn’t want their acting to be affected by their conditioning or them to fall back on the learning from earlier characters they have essayed. I thought that was a really smart way to bring some freshness to even the most veteran of actors. Wonder if Prithviraj gained this insight himself, or the director told him.

    But it leads back to a life lesson on conditioning. The routines, the benchmarks, peer pressure and the other daily grind machinations force us back to our conditioning. I know (subjective) from experience how difficult it is to look past the attitudes and responses that smack of conditioning. I have found it difficult to sustain whatever levels of objectivity I might have built up over a period of time. Even when I disrupted a routine, the disruption became a routine. It is as though the equilibrium is always a comfort zone.

    What is a measure of the mettle of an actor? Is it the way he manages to make a done-to-death character come alive or is it how he handles a completely new character convincingly? I guess you’d say both. Unfortunately, I don’t think ‘both’ is an option when you apply this measure to how one lives a life. You’d have to choose one role and play it really well, isn’t it? Life is the movie, there are no re-takes, and getting out of the character is a really difficult thing to do.

    until next time, roled into one.

  • Onashamsakalmadi

    Considering that Kannada is to be made compulsory in Bangalore, this is how Bangalore Malayalis will wish each other henceforth. For those unaware of the Onam backstory, check out my reasonably legit version or the RGV rendition.

    After a search across media platforms for sadya options, and basis last year’s not-so-great experience at Little Home (which has gone down drastically these days) it was a toss between Ente Keralam and the new kid on the 5th Block, Koramangala – Cafe Malabari. Since I read on the FB group that getting reservations at Ente Keralam would be difficult, the choice became easy. As per the information given, the sadya would start at 11.45-12 and cost Rs.225.

    We landed there just after 12, and on hindsight, just in time. A Yakshagana – Mahabali mashup was on hand to welcome everyone. The umbrella is definitely this season’s collection!  🙂 After we got the coupons and barely got the seats – the ones facing the road, the rush started and pretty soon, they even took off the banner advertising the sadya.

    We had to sit for a while watching others polish off their sadya, and Maveli inspecting the arboreal ‘pookkalam’. Finally we were set to begin, as we got the sadya infrastructure in place.

    After a smaller wait, all the pieces began falling into place. Out of the twenty three listed items, we only missed two, and that’s not a bad deal at all, considering the massive rush.

    The one big snag was that because of a tissues distribution failure, I had to keep my clicking finger away from sampling any of this, until I could get a final shot and could then concentrate solely on eating. I gave up after the sambar made its entry. After three rice rounds, and two payasams, there seemed to be only a couple of survivors. The banana peel doesn’t count!

    In a coconutshell, Cafe Malabari did a good job. If they survive the Koramangala restaurant wars, I’ll do a repeat next year. The funniest part of the entire experience was Mahabali shouting out ‘Sold Out’ to the crowd outside. 🙂

    I wish we could add an ഓണകോഴി (chicken) to the mix. Meanwhile, I do have a concept for next year, based on the beer lunch. Will need to talk to the Kerala Beverages Corporation for this though –  ഓണാശംസകളള് 🙂

    until next time, as a fellow mallu said, Mahabelly 🙂

  • Oh, numb!

    While I was handling the high frequency burping that signifies the completion of the meal above, my phone rang. It was an ex-colleague, but more importantly, dear friend and a fellow mallu. I picked it up, expecting a loud ‘Happy Onam’ from the other end. She was working, and wanted a person’s number. I wished her a happy onam, and without missing a breath, got a “Oh, I forgot” response.

    That perhaps typifies this generation of living-outside-Kerala Malayalis. That’s a generalisation, of course, and a huge one at that, because thankfully, I know many of my fellow Keralites who religiously go home every Onam, come what may, and have a blast. But as every Onam passes, I can feel it slipping away.

    Ten days of holidays – a cousin reunion, the hustle and bustle of a sadya preparation, to a day taken off from college to visit a relative’s house for the sadya, to figuring out which new movies are being shown on the telly for Onam and scanning the papers for a restaurant that serves a good sadya, obviously it wasn’t just me who grew up.

    I suspect that it might not get any better, and as a statement in Malayala Manorama went,  I might even get used ‘eating a sadya in the mind’. This generation still has its (mostly office) pookkalams and the sadya. For those that come later, the sadya will perhaps just be a meal by itself.

    until then, happy onam 🙂

    PS: The legend, the Ram Gopal Varma version, and the tag.

  • Arbor

    Sometime back, when I’d written the post on Onam, I’d mentioned a story that deserved to be told. About an old school pal R who has composed a wonderful soundtrack for a recently released Malayalam movie. He’s been composing for over 2 years now, probably more if you count the non-film work he’s done, but when I listened to this soundtrack, I was glad to note that I was proud of him. No, not pride by association – of knowing him, but actually proud for what he’s done for himself. I was glad for him. And so, I was glad for myself.

    R and I share a history, which starts with a shared birthday, so it used to be that our ‘color dress’  days in school used to be the same. He also used to stay in the university campus, which, in case you haven’t noticed, is a constant handle for my nostalgia trips on this blog. R was obviously a very good singer, actually he was a little beyond that grade too. I still remember the time when for some class talent show, R and I were asked to teach group songs to our respective classes. R did a fantastic job, while i just taught the class the song – everyone sang everything. The difference was harmony. I didn’t know it then, I understood it later. Meanwhile, like me, R also played cricket. My tryst with that bloomed late (high school) and lasted only a few years,  as far as official teams went. I wonder if he did something about it. Oh, okay, I just read through what I wrote. No, I refuse to make myself an underdog on my own blog. 😀

    The learning part of school life was obviously the most important, not by choice, but still….and as those primary/secondary class reports would show, I used to be the topper, modesty be damned. Add to that, the school junior hockey team, quiz, debate, Dumb C later, and being the quorum filler for things as varied as Malayalam recitation and News Reading (yes, we had that as a bleddy competition item, would you believe it!! Maybe I should sue that school, those certificates can be quite embarrassing) and you could imagine why my attention was spread thin. But wait, let’s not overcompensate. 🙂

    Anyway, R and I parted ways when i changed schools, though we used to meet later for most of the inter school festivals, where on one hand, I’d be shouting out Dumb C guesses, and minutes later, would be desperately trying to remember the lyrics for the next few lines I had to sing for the music competition. Once I also noticed him in the Western (Group) music part of the competition, and I went WTF (the school kid equivalent actually) on why there wasn’t a Bollywood part, since the only English lyrics i knew then were …..erm, nothing. 😐 After school we completely lost touch, and a nice little music rivalry, in which he used to kick my a** regularly, except for stray upsets, ended.

    A few years back, a nostalgia wave hit our batch, and a classmates e-group was created. Nice people that they are, they sent me an invite and I joined, even though I’d spent only 5 years in that school. That it remains my favourite school is a fact, though. Anyway, that’s where I heard the news that R had composed his first movie soundtrack, back in 2007. And now begins the role that R played without his knowledge – the reason for this post.

    When i heard the news, a part of me was happy, but that was only a small part. The larger part was insanely jealous. This wasn’t like any of the stars/celebrities I regularly read about, I knew this guy, I had shared the stage with him and competed with him. And here he was, on the way to becoming famous, while I sat blogging about paths not taken!! That was when I looked at myself, and really bothered to take an objective look- as objective as i could be then. I realised it wasn’t the first time that this insane jealousy had happened. From wittier one liners to cooler jobs, the feeling had expressed itself many times, with different people. Sometimes fleetingly, sometimes for long stretches. Each time, it lasted till the mind gave itself a reason to stop being jealous, on why there was a flip side in their lives too. Bizarre ones sometimes, in desperation, but reasons nevertheless.

    But from then on, I have been watching myself. It happens now too, in fact, on one front it is worse, because the proliferation of social networks means that there are more people I am now connected to – Twitter updates, Facebook statuses, vacation photos, all have the potential to get me launched into a ‘why is his shirt whiter than mine’ phase. All this, when on most fronts, I have nothing to complain about in my life, silly twist in my neck, notwithstanding. Initially, I tried to control the envy, give rational reasons – what I have gained and what i have missed on, and deliberately shut out things which would make me well, insanely jealous. From experience, the control is a myth, and the worst part is that it creates layers of denial. The massive risk is the day when it explodes in your face.

    So these days, I don’t control, I admit to myself that I’m jealous, and wherever I can, i tell the other person too. Thereafter, the interaction is a delight. I get to know the hard work they’ve put in to reach where they have, I realise I can be genuinely glad for other people, and there is a sheer joy that can be experienced. Sometimes I am rebuffed by people too. I have also realised that the more i acknowledge, the lesser I get envy attacks.  I still get them sometimes, but I think the path is right. On a tangential front, I am also trying to leave expectations from myself open.

    A strange thought occurred to me while I was writing this. Maybe its just me,  but with this sudden outburst of sharing and connectedness, are we increasingly living out a life that we want to portray to others? A “Hey look, I am happy, everything is perfect in my world” approach. Even the sad statuses are filtered, like the ‘negative things about yourself’ in job interviews. 🙂 How much of the happiness is in the sharing, in the feeling that others might be envious? Are we going that way? If I don’t share and don’t expect any returns, but I can still be happy about something I have experienced/done, would that be joy? And as a next step, if I can  go through the same experience without the baggage of expectations, would that be the objectivity I seek? Each second a new life? Beyond conditioning? Possible?

    R’s story loop needs to be closed, eh? On request, he has sent me a karaoke version of a song I liked in the movie. I have promised to sing the vocals… for myself. And a story that deserved a joyous ending. 🙂

    until next time, R bit ends for now 🙂

    PS: For those reading this on the blog, see that new thingie right below this. USE IT :p