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I first heard of Bob Dylan when I came across the movie “I am not there.” That was quite a quirky movie, and in reality I did not completely watch it, it was way too confusing. I searched him and found too many rave reviews. I have the notion that when someone or something is being praised by so many different people, something must be wrong with it. But there were few songs that caught my attention.

When I heard few songs, I was truly blown off. Here is a masterpiece. The background of it is he sang it just in the backdrop of the Cuban missile crisis. It was just amazing listening to him sing!!!

– x – x – x –

 

Lyrics for this version of the video song “A hard rain’s a-gonna fall”

 

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, that roared out a warnin’
I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
I heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
I heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
I heard the sounds of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
And who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded in hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll hit for the depths of the deepest dark forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
And the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
And the executioner’s face is always well hidden
And hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

– x – x – x –

There is such deep meaning in this!!!

Before you get back to me angry after reading this, just remember all guarantees come with a fine print of disclaimers. Now that I have successfully started by shirking my responsibilities, I can say whatever I want to! Phew, that’s a relief!!!! Now let me come straight to the point (now don’t say you never stopped me from, but I’m the writer, so… beat it!)

In almost every suspenseful movie, or at least those which pretend to be so, whenever there are accidental discoveries I always wonder how that piece of paper or bit of information or thing found it’s way into the hands of the only person who HAD to read it!? It includes few genuinely mysterious, and few that cross the boundaries of realism. I can give ready examples of Telugu cinemas, like NTR finding the job for a couple in the classic “Missamma” or the more ludicrous example of a piece of message in bottle circumnavigating the southern tip of India to travel from Kerala to Vizag beach in the not-such-a-great movie, (whose name I cannot recollect right now) starring Nagarjuna, a couple of years ago. In Hindi I recollect the marvelously made Byomkesh Bhakshi as an example for the first and for the second, the horrendously bad movie “Ajnabee” where the despondent hero laments that nothing happens by ittefaaq, i.e., by happenstance, only to immediately chance across something that helps him unravel the entire case.

But the one thing these did do was pique my interest in searching for such. I especially revel in reading scraps of newspaper. The ones you find on the road, the piece of paper in which the thelawala wraps your snacks in, those spread on vegetable shelves. Although I admit I did not find any ground breaking news, let alone either a job or the key to some unsolved mystery, it did contain pieces of interesting information, at least to catch my attention and entertain me for few minutes.

Still I keep searching, in the hope one day I will catch my epiphany.

Rechargeable batteries. What a great invention! They have made our life, at least, a bit simpler. We don’t have to bother running to the nearest store for buying new one, or a pair, each time they run out. Though they have long re-charging times, it is better than dumping packs of wasted batteries.

However, there is one serious downside of them. Never use them on wall clocks. Else, you wouldn’t know when their capacities have run down and you will end up happily gazing at the clock showing 6 in the morning while the bus you desperately need to catch to reach your office half an hour late, has just left the bus stop.

P.S.: Never use two batteries recharged at the same time on two clocks. Unless you want to know that nature and science do have a wicked sense of humor!!!

I hereby declare to the general public, at large, that I have just invented a new number that I am proud to say is dedicated to the name of it’s creator. It will be called Siddharth number (NS). I am positively positive this new number, just like Reynold’s number and Prandtl’s number, will be used more often in everyday usage than it’s two illustrious predecessors.

But before that, a brief history of it’s creation. See I have a knack, and am very gifted in it. I believe (and I think I will have many seconding my belief) that I have inherited some very quirky traits from my parents. But of all of them the one I’m most proud of is my ability to sleep in an instant (and I will not divulge from whom I have inherited it, although I must add that my mum is a light sleeper.) And it is indeed an instant, as fast as 30 seconds ~ 1 minute I guess; I never measured, but I will do that one day (of course someone else will time me while I’ll be busy trying to fall asleep). However, that is not what the the number would stand for, the minimum amount of time taken for someone to fall asleep.

We call people, make an appointment and promise we will call / meet them at such-and-such (is it a typical Indian expression?) a place on such-and-such (is it a typical… sorry I already asked that question) a time. And then sometimes we totally forget about it and go about doing other work till the circuits reconnect somewhere in the brain and we remember about our rendezvous. However, this would again be not what the number would stand for, the number of times someone misses appointments by forgetting by the reason of doing something else, however (non-?)productive.

Some other times we come across people (like me) who just fall asleep at the exact time, not deliberately mind you, but just because they just tend to fall asleep in a wink. And once again this would not be primary focus of the number, the number of times someone falls asleep forgetting about some appointment.

With this prologue, I define Siddharth number as:

Siddharth number (NS)= Number of phone calls on your mobile missed from the person with whom you had fixed the appointment
 
Where provided
you did not  deliberately fall asleep,
or pretend to be asleep,
but just truly fell asleep,
that too within fractions of minute,
extendable up to a maximum of 3 minutes and 5 seconds,
or that you are not avoiding the calls deliberately
it does not include calls from any other person

 

This number can be further upgraded to Siddharth’ number (NS’) by adding the square root (just for the fun of it) of the number of times the person has knocked on your room’s door.

I, the creator of this number, have set the threshold for NS at ‘19’, after which the number would be upgraded, by providing adequate proof, which may be updated unannounced by the (human) body responsible for overseeing of the proper implementation and usage of this number.

This is, as of now, the maximum number of calls I have missed from the person I had  made an appointment.

And the limit for NS’ is 21.23608.

Was just thinking of defining Siddharth’’ number (NS’’) to include physical jolts or rather the п power of them. I don’t think there has been any threshold for this set. As of now.

A book is always very difficult to be adapted into a movie. Someone can go paragraphs trying to describe a moment, while it has the same span on screen, a moment. Even though they say a picture is better than a thousand words, and a moving image should have a greater potential. I beg to differ that it is not always the case!

With all the commotion and discussions that went on during and after the release of “3 idiots”, and with so much praise showered on it from all ends I was a little skeptic, how could a single movie impress different generations (like my parents and friends)!? I have a very weird sense of marking movies worth watching, and those worth watching many times. Though I was laughed at for exactly the same, i.e. being skeptical of a movie which was liked by so many different people.

Well my hunch proved correct.

This is one of the worst movie adaptations of a book.

That Chetan Bhagat was really fighting that his book was mismashed into this horrendous movie filled with cliches is hard to understand. I think he should be very happy the movie looks nothing like the book. The book is, this time again, better than the movie. The review might seem harsh, but that the Perfectionist was working on this makes it even more culpable.

I want to list out the cliches in the movie and this time it was not at all difficult to predict what the next scene would be –

1. The minute Virus asks that student to ring up his dad, although honestly i expected the father to have another attack

2. Hero’s final triumph in setting the project of that boy

3. What would happen just as the camopter (new name i can take patent for? – shit some organization already has that registry name, which i think was very idiotic of me to think that no one else would have thought of that name) is being used to view it’s supposed original creator

4. Anyone who ever had difficulty in communicating to fathers will sympathize with Farhan, but not  in the simple way all disagreements are resolved!

5. Well another important question I had was how come Rancho never attended any interview!?

6. But the cream of the cake was the finale. A baby delivered using vacuum cleaner chord (I’m no expert on that subject, but I have a very tangible fear that someone will try that and I don’t know how effective and safe that procedure is) on the instructions of a hopelessly frantic girl, with an incessantly Hermoine-like-worrisome-look, who has animatable props ready to demonstrate how an untrained person can deliver a baby; how someone can regulate the pressure of vacuum (how much was it? 0.1? man that technique should be learnt by all in the world and so much of pressure would be relieved!) just by holding it against your hand (god dammit did no one ever get their hands and clothes stuck or sucked into a vacuum pump before?) who is accompanied by an equally dumbfounded and astounded doctor who has never seen such a delivery ever attempted in their entire life, and the supposedly stillborn responding to the chants of “all is well” which, by the way, he had been listening to since inside the womb (reminds me of Abhimanyu, learning only the way inside to Chakryavyuha from Arjun while still in the womb of his mother, Subhadra, seemingly interrupted by Krishna so as to avoid being killed by the re-incarnated Kamsa) followed by an emotional grandfather, erstwhile villain, declaring and setting the new born free to choose his course in life!

The biggest reason for my tirade is that this is Aamir’s movie! The same guy who was in “Rang de Basanti”, who made “Taare Zameen Pe”. They were movies, and they too had cliches, but not in the absolute stare-in-the-face kinds, they were real, they were true to life! And this movie was marked to be true to life. This is an out-and-out bollywood movie, nothing more. It is not true to life. If you want to look at real lives of engineering students, watch “Happy Days”. You want to see honesty? Look at the face of the guy attending the Microsoft interview or the attempt by the senior to help his junior with whom he always had a bad relationship.

Except maybe in the message that how engineering students spend their lives learning nothing, just lots of equations and formulae, and I really wonder if the message goes across to thousands and hordes of South-Indian parents thinking thinking engineering is the only ticket to a good life. But the same message is delivered better by the book, and a way lot better than the movie.

I never thought I would say this but “Hello”, the adaptation of “One night at the call center” was a better movie than this! Please Aamir, please don’t make us suffer such a movie again.

Well one more new thing today. I went to a theater nearby, the “Ranga Shankara” and saw my first play “Dancing on glass”. It is a black comedy on the lives of BPO employees and was produced by the group AEIF. The whole play had just two people in it, but they were good. It was a good experience. It was seemingly a top medium play, as rated by a regular at the theater I met. For me, it was like walking onto the sets of “Pyaasa’”, with all the over hanging lights, etc.

The play in itself was a mixed bag, with all the fun elements of an independent life being led by the BPO generation, albeit one in which they are continually under stress, living on alternate timelines; of room mates who never get to see each other; having to not only deal with their own day-to-day peskiness but others’ too; of a girl’s practical approach to life making herself question if she is a heartless bitch. The two actors were really great. The ending was a bit too sudden, but I am sure all theater lovers would, if nothing, at least have a good laugh there.