Big Fish (2005)

There comes a time when all that a man sees and feels can be put into a previously experienced category, when the fight against repetition becomes futile and life seems to go in a never ending merry-go-round that has lost its friction... its spectacle and its spectators; swirling day and night, the man sits and waits until the smile vanishes slowly and a frown creeps up into the now puckered lips; when every morning seems just like another, only less exciting and watched with cold eyes whose spark has long been doused in the distant past. Time becomes enigmatic and he refuses to look forth anymore, but wait and bide the ticks of the old watch to quickly reach a known destination, that is too far away to provide any meaningful solace. And just when he thinks all is lost and scorns at the futility of celebrating life, comes a brilliant movie that lifts the spirits up and pumps love back into life, in gallons. It all seems worthy once more and all that was required was a small spark, a little snippet of wisdom and the reassurance that men still retain the ability to create a masterpiece oozing with subtlety and brilliance. Now, love, that most ephemeral of feelings, one that National Geographic mercilessly relegated to a series of harmonal reactions inside his head, is instilled once again into a heart that seemed so barren and that, I believe, is reason enough for you to go and spend an evening enjoying the movie "Big Fish"!

ps: I had assumed all along that it was a fantasy cartoon and was eager to watch it. It turns out that I was completely wrong. And delightfully so!

Naivety... Vanity... Hypocrisy...

*Why do pseudo-philosophical thoughts always rear their ugly heads when surrounded by a hundred delicious pooris and a mass of mirthful mates?*
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We speak of vanity as if it is a bad word. But at every point of time during evolution, the dominant species has looked at itself in the mirror and marveled at its own perfection. And not only that, it has detested the image of every other species that threatens its own dominance. Afterall, the sight of a single-eyed, hairless creature with flippers instead of limbs and squishy scales dripping with white masses of smelly mucuos, ordering hapless humans around, can only invoke anger and repulsion in the most of us. And this, despite the fact that the controlling species might actually be superior on the evolution scale.

By extension, every intelligent species seems to pass phases when it believes to be smarter than the rest, clinching its moments of superiority. And within our own species, it is only all too common... It is like a shot of adrenaline that makes your life pleasurable, almost worthwhile, for that period of time. Briefly. No doubt then, that self-love is omnipresent and an absolute essential, in whatever guise it might appear. And despite this, we abhor vanity as if it is a blemish in an otherwise perfect existence.

Perhaps, we cannot be that bad when we tally our totals.... afterall, we atone by choosing to keep hypocrisy in our dictionaries!

“Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind.”

- Bertrand Russell (English Logician and Philosopher 1872-1970)

I could not help but notice that the same profundity could have been uttered just as well by that cute dog that your neighbor has domesticated...

North Country (2005)

The first class-action lawsuit against sexual harrasment in the United States was filed by Ms. Jenson against Eveleth mines, an iron ore mining corporation in Northern Minnesota in early 1980s. The excellent movie "North Country", directed by Niki Caro ("Whale Rider"), is loosely based on this true story. Everyday, we indulge our happiness, completely oblivious to the injustices and beastly behavior present in our societies. The movie works hard to shake this illusion and bring forth the stark contrast between utopia and the real-world. This opinion is strengthened, especially if you consider the fact that the suit was only filed in the last 25 years and set a precedent for more such cases in the United states (and around the world). But the message of the movie becomes a no surprise if you put it in perspective alongside the genocides in Africa and the active policy of natives-extermination in Australia until 40 years ago (see the movie "Rabbit-proof fence")!

The movie was well directed with a coherent screenplay, ample attention to detail and authenticity. Critiques that claim the movie was excessively melodramatic can be brushed aside the moment we put ourselves in the shoes of the women who had to endure the harrasment, and the men who had to watch the humiliation without having the guts to oppose. If the movie is wrenching for the couple of hours to merely watch, I can't imagine how it would feel to be groped and snickered on every single day of work.

Overall, it is well done -- a movie that you and I should watch just to understand what goes on around us, to dwell upon the psyche of maniacs, to double-check our own beliefs and to filter out the remaining ounces of doubt. The movie may not induce streams of tears down your pretty eyes, but it will sure make your heart bleed. And that, according to me, is the mark of a good movie.

Valentine's day

Some call it the D-day, some call it the V-day... Some make it a We-day but for some, it still sadly remains an I-day.

When the clock struck 12 on the 14th, I was lost in thought wondering why men wait until valentine's day to propose? Why should the expression of true love wait till a day that anagrams with "Net Vain Delays"? And just then....

12:01 am: The little chatterbox, adorned in silver quietly lies beside me in slumber. I furiously type while my eyelids wait without a stir and grow impatient. At the precise moment when my neurons fire up a delightful cranial firework that reads "AOK", peace is shattered by the little one that wakes up with a start, screaming:

...tring... tring......tring... tring...

(Actually, the ringer on my phone is a Bach partita. But lets ignore that extraneous detail and go for the effect...)

"Hello"

"Enna da? Enna panre?"

"Err... nalaikku oru talk irukku... i am making the slides..."

The Dell 15.4" screen and my 1" eyes are locked in an unyielding interlock and as usual, the clock keeps ticking.

"Seri... seri... Happy Valentines Day!"

"Cool. Thanks." (still intently poring at the monitor)

"Enna plan vechurukka v-daykku?"

"Onnum illa... surely night-out dhaan innikku. But for all the wrong reasons..."

"Haha... enda presentationlam panre, poi oru nalla ponna date-kku azhaichuttu po..."

And thus started my valentine's day with a call from my aunt in India, politely informing me that I am a loser.

2:00 am: I take a break from the stare-match and play a minuet expecting it to rejuvenate. But the notes from my keyboard stumble out like a bunch of unruly drunk men about to puke. I settle for the powerpoint.

9:00am - 5pm: ...work... talk...meeting...meeting...work...

The only redeeming features of the day were the very many blogs I read glorifying the state of singlehood and the ones lamenting about the lack of love reception on a valentine's day. The former made me feel good and the latter gave me company.

All was not lost though. I did have half a dozen excellent conversations on the 14th. I suppose all the people who decided to speak with me were bouyed by v-day greetings, flowers, romantic dinners they gave/got from others. i got lucky and felt the aftershocks. Free stuff always tastes good. And in this case, made me thank St.Valentine very profusely. I went to bed for a night of content sleep.

On cricket

(Does dripping sarcasm bother you?)

Some say I am boring. Some question my patriotism. Some even detest my friendship. And that, my fellow bloggers, is for the sin of neither watching nor following the sacred game of cricket.

Before the patriot in you takes offence, let me assure you that I like cricket and played with elan in the flat lands of Illinois, as I did in Kilkattalai and in the alleys and classrooms of iitm's mechanical sciences building, drowning my studious classmates in darkness when tubelights were most needed...

And my game is not abysmal either. How can it be when i was an honored member of the Ganga "E" team that battled in the '99 flood lit tournaments of sangam (the famous cricket field). Great so far you say, but what after I tell you about the primary strike force of our team: my roomie - a bespectacled gentleman, who can neither see in the dark nor hold a willow and swing it in time to meet the speeding tennis ball. But on that fateful night, much to the credit of this remarkable game, he struck thrice, ran the best batsmen out (on both teams) and nearly snatched the match away from Jamuna B, almost creating a remarkable sensation. If my memory of that match is any indicator, I might actually be in love with cricket.

Clearly, the discerning reader would not contest when I say that playing the game is a different matter than watching an entire day's proceedings on a rather small phosphorescent screen, frequently interrupted with an abundance of irrelevant advertisements, sitting immobile and permanently attached to a couch, wielding a bowl of potato chips (which strangely seems to exhibit all the characteristics of Akshaya Pathram, thanks to the benevolence of the lady that begot you) and a friendly neighbor who insists on competing with Harsha Bhogle and Anandji Dossa in (needlessly) supplying you with expert commentary and obscure statistics. And thus, I present my case to you -- it is the watching I detest.

Perhaps, you should appreciate me for holding out despite going to a school filled with cricket maniacs and a college saturated with uncombed, dirty-trousered gentlemen with remarkable memories, who can fill up on any cricket statistic known to mankind. My dad watches cricket with great interest and so do my cousins, sisters, uncles and aunts. One of my best friends is obsessed about the game, going to the extremes of postponing a timely graduation, all for watching a match of cricket. Live. And later switched his profession to become a sports writer rather than a mechanical engineer, out of his love for The game! Succumbing to peer pressure is not my cup of tea, ladies and gentlemen. As Michael Caine puts it so eloquently in Batman Begins:

"NeVah!"

By now, you must be wondering where all this is leading to. Just as in life (*), these words seem to have a definitive purpose but when you step back, look deeply and manage to reach the end, you are no better than that little cricket perched on a blade of grass on a moonless night, near the forgotten pond, who wonders about those billion white balls in the sky... completely lost.

Your love for watching the game is puzzling and so is my refusal to watch. But, between you and me, I suppose we could remain friends without getting this fixed. Whoa?

(*) warning: profound generalization follows

Lost in Darkness : Africa

Swaziland has the world's highest concentration of AIDS cases. 40% of its adults are infected with HIV and despite treatments, it is expected that most of them will deteriotate to suffer from Acquired Immuno Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) and eventually die. But not before transmitting this fatal disease to several of their tribesmen.

To put this in perspective, picture 10 of your close relatives and imagine a world in which 4 of them have AIDS and will succumb to the infection. Sad and stunning. But that is the normal, abysmal scenario in swaziland and most of sub-saharan Africa.

While the great influenza of 1918 claimed 40 million lives in a single year, AIDS had claimed 28 million lives by 2004 within a hundred years. Unlike influenza, which attacked furiously and was destroyed immediately, AIDS takes a slow, steady approach, and has eluded either a cure or a prevention for quarter of a century. And it is this peculiar character that makes HIV highly dangerous. AIDS is likely to reach the dubious distinction of being the single largest eradication threat mankind has ever faced. (This is assuming the H5N1 avian flu is controlled before it breaks out)

The high rate of errors that the virus RNA makes while transcripting itself into a DNA within a human cell results in a fast mutation rate and makes it a difficult moving target for anti-viral medications. Technicality apart, poor coverage of this epidemic in the media (just like the forgotten African genocides), a lack of initiative and money, has resulted in the disease spiralling out of control and now, AIDS threatens to wipe out half a continent. So much for global co-operatation, technological advances and level playing fields.

Even more stunning is the division of health budgets for fighting the virus. Most of the research in the (western) world and consequently, most of the resources humans can expend in this battle are spent in containing or finding a cure for viral strain B. But this strain affects only about 12% of the patients in absolute numbers, compared to 27% and 42% for strains A and C respectively. So, why spend all this effort on something that is only third in the list of fatal strains? Queer indeed unless you look at the global distribution of viral strains (see picture above). It now becomes clear as to why most of the efforts are spent in eliminating strain B - simply because strain B is predominantly found in the United States and Europe! Clearly, the tendency to preserve oneself comes before the desire to preserve civilization and we are presented a glorious view of global economics dictating the path to the future.

But there is still hope left. There always is. At a conference in Denver a couple of days back, Merck and Gilead Sciences have unveiled a new class of AIDS drugs, called integrase inhibitors. The drugs attack HIV's integrase, an enzyme that helps the virii merge with human DNA. Results from the preliminary tests have been spectacular - the Merck drug treated 80 patients for 16 weeks and found a majority of the patients have their virus levels drop to nearly undetectable levels. The Gilead drug treated 30 patients for 10 days. At the end of the testing, they experienced a 99% drop in virus compared to patients taking a placebo.

Although these therapies are miraculous, their long-term side effects are as yet unknown (in the short term, no side effects have been observed). Further, the HIV virus RNA has a tendency to remain inside the immune system cells without multiplication, until the cells are activated by an infection. Thus, an infected patient would require to take these medicines thoughout his life, which brings us to the next point.

No matter what the scientific advances, only those whose economic utility remains above a certain threshold will be allowed to survive. The rest have to die a protracted and painful death, consumed by the disease and more so by the torturous thoughts of an impending death. In simple terms, if the patient can make money for the drug companies or the governments that support them, they have a far higher chance of survival than the ones dependent on aid. Thus, both the AID syndromes conspire to kill a poor man. And sadly, that is not the only irony in this case.

Afterword: Read the controversy (generated by none other than the respectable organization, "Doctors without Borders") surrounding the unethical commercialization of medicines in third world countries by Gilead Sciences at http://blog.bioethics.net/2006/02/aids-drug-treatment-access-walking.html. If you have come this far, it sure will make a compelling read.