Guldasta

A bouquet of flowers picked along the way ….

thumbs-up to pat-down January 13, 2010

Filed under: ego,humour — gurdas @ :
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This post got prompted by my facebook status message where I said:

 “Gurdas does not understand people having an issue with full-body scans or pat downs at the airport. He’d rather have his willy outlined on a scan monitor than have it blown mid-air by a terrorist. Gurdas also proposes the government collect all kinds of data about private body parts and publish impersonal statistics. Like average willy length or cup size of flights to Honolulu broken down by day, week, month, and year.”

I just do not get it why some people will object to a procedure which is ultimately meant to save their lives. But oh well, it takes government regulation to make people wear their seat belt and not talk on their phones while driving. Maybe some people just do not like being touched. But I doubt that is the case with most of the people who are going hoarse about their privacy being invaded. Really, I ask, what privacy? If your full body scan shows you are wearing frilly lace panties and garter belts and what not, and this fuels your invasion of privacy agenda, my advice – don’t wear all that gear while flying. It is not one of your fundamental freedoms, and so I just don’t care. Or if you are a man who is very insecure about his willy length and thinks the woman officer will laugh for years to come when she talks about it with her friends, all I can say is – sorry, you are all hung up about the myth of length. Get a life and let it hang.

Really, I ask again, what privacy is lost during a full-body scan or pat-down? It is just your body, folks. Nobody is peeking into your mind to find out all those dark secret desires, naughty thoughts, and misdeeds of the past. You have them secure, so stop shouting foul.

But wait, I think we can improve the situation. We can actually derive genuine entertainment out of this process. If you would allow us to, that is. Think of all that statistics that can be generated from data about private body parts. Imagine walking into an airport and having a big screen display:

– Luxembourg leads the world in percentage of women with cup size D as incoming travellers. (Wouldn’t you like to go to Buxombourg next time? And if you are women with a size equal or larger than the average, Luxembourg might even discount your air ticket.)

– Afghanistan has the highest percentage of men with willy length less than 5″ leaving the country. (Makes sense, with all that bombing going on, they better retain men with good fire power.)

There is a downside though. People might cancel flights out of disappointment and/or get an impromptu urge to visit another country. Mayhem might prevail at the airport. But yes, the possibilities are limitless. Your imagination is the limit, really!

But wait, there is more. We can have the actual screening process made pleasurable, too. With the full body scan, you will have a choice to see the full body scan of another person, provided you allow your scan to be available for another traveller to view. You can choose from tens of kinds of scans to view – “size zero model” to “blocks your vision fat” to “lean and muscular” to “cuddly love handles”. All information that can identify an individual will be removed, so you are safe. Do not worry.

Or if it is a pat-down, you can choose the free option or the paid option (nominal fee, very affordable). In the free option, you will get the pat-down from the regular security officers (same gender as you) whose touch is only as intimate as brushing your ass cheeks against a cardboard. You get the idea. In the nominal fee option you can choose the gender, and the person will be trained in not only security related efficiency and accuracy, but also pleasure. This person will ensure you are all sweety-tweety and smiling by the time the pat-down is over. And no, you cannot get a repeat pat-down. There are other ‘normal’ people waiting behind you.

All you ‘hung up about privacy’ people, stop giving yourself airs. This is 21st century air travel and you are better off nude, laid back, and more social.

 

Rashomon (movie review) January 9, 2010

Filed under: Movie Reviews — gurdas @ :

A woodcutter and a Priest sit stunned in what appears a dilapidated though majestic gate. Outside the wind and rain are lashing. They are joined by a character about whom we know nothing till the end. And a story is told. Of a man found dead in the forest and the four versions by four different people (a bandit, the dead man’s wife, the dead man, and the woodcutter) of how this man met his death.

Classic! Very allegorical. And very entertaining. Japanese director Akira Kurosawa‘s 1950 masterpiece Rashomon will keep your attention and leave you thinking. The use of shadows and light, the almost monotone background score, and some of the best face closeups I have seen add to the film’s credentials. There are parts which are rather crude, but they are so few and so far apart that it is easy to forgive.

Watch out for the scene where the bandit brings the wife into the wood clearing and she sees her husband in a certain state. The camera rolls slow and steady, no jerky angles or movement, no loud music, just a sense of tension. And also watch out for the look on the face of the husband when his wife cuts his ropes. I do not remember any other movie where a character displays an expression that is so indescribable.

Rashomon deals with human vices and our continuous fight to defeat, accept, or run from them. The four stories are unique and no attempt is made to solve the puzzle. Because the puzzle is not central to the plot. The stories are merely mediums to pose the greater questions about human nature. And even here, Rashomon does not give complete answers.

Storytelling has been important to human history. Our sense of good and evil, of love and hate, and everything else has been passed down the ages using stories. Rashomon is a respectable addition to the art of storytelling through moving images and sound. Recommended for viewing.

 

Shichinin no samurai (Seven Samurai) (Movie Review) January 8, 2010

Filed under: Movie Reviews — gurdas @ :

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Shichinin no samurai stands tall in the cinema landscape and is widely recognised to be Japanese director Akira Kurosawa‘s masterpiece. Made in 1954, the movie has been copied widely and the story retold so often that an unknowing viewer might find the original masterpiece stale! Shichinin no samurai is a kaleidoscope of many endearing stories from the ages, David vs Goliath, love in the middle of battle, the vagabond with a loyal heart, the silent master, the wise leader, the jovial warrior, to name a few. The story is simple, set in late 16th century, peasants from a village hire seven samurais to fight the bandits who threaten to rob them of their crop and daughters.

The story is told in no great hurry and so the movie runs a good 207 minutes (3 hours, 27 minutes) long. There is no heroism, no mind numbing sword fights, no over arching theme of valour and sacrifice. No, there is none of the melodrama which is often thrown in for good measure to hold your attention. In Shichinin no samurai, the characters vary from cowards to the cautiously brave. Very real, very human. Since the movie was made more than half a century ago, I was not expecting any technical wizadry. And thank God for that. The Black&White tones enhance the drama, keeping your focus dead center on the characters and the story, and not their clothes or whatever. A good part of the climax is relentless fighting between the peasants and samurai on one side and the bandits on the other.  Again, very ordinary and very believable scenes. No one person is the hero. There is sludge, there are bows, arrows, spears, and muskets. There are horses. There is valour. There is loss and grief. And there is love. All thrown together into a heady mix, and yet each delineated.

I love movies that do a good job at fleshing out characters. And Shichinin no samurai is a winner in this. From the first samurai recruited to the seventh, they are each introduced in a setting that captures the essence of their individual characters. What surprises me is that not much time is spent on all of them, and yet one finds it easy to connect to each. Surely Kurosawa was a master of his craft!

I recommend Shichinin no samurai to anyone who wants to see not just an all time classic, but also one that is so great that some other great movies are mere retelling of it.

 

Aye Maalik Tere Bande Hum December 20, 2009

Filed under: Ethics and Values,Inspiration,life,philosophy,poetry — gurdas @ :

The song ‘Aye Maalik Tere Bande Hum‘ from the 1957 classic Do Aankhen Barah Haath directed by V. Shantaram has a special place in my heart. For me, and for millions of other Indians, it is a prayer. The song pleads for the strength to be virtuous, embraces death as a reality, accepts human fraility, and implores God to take all our sins and weaknesses. Kudos to lyricist Bharat Vyas for penning an eternal classic.

ankhen0001

(photo borrowed from this page, which is a good read on the movie)

Lyrics (transliteration // translation)

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aye maalik tere bande hum  //  Lord, you are our creator
aysein hon hamaare karam  //  So be our deeds
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein  //  May we walk the path of righteousness and refrain from evil
taaki hastein huye nikale dum  //  So that we may depart fulfilled and smiling
aye maalik tere bande hum  //  Lord, you are our creator

.

badaa kamzor hai aadmi  // Frail is the human being
abhi laakhon hain isme kameen  //  With a million shortcomings
par tu joh khadaa hai dayalu badaa  //  But you are forgiving
teri kirpaa se dharti thamee  //  The world exists due to your benevolence
diya toone hamein jab janam  //  Since you have given us birth
tuhee jhelega hum sab ke gum  //  You will also bear our burdens
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein  //  May we walk the path of righteousness and refrain from evil
taaki hastein huye nikale dum  //  So that we may depart fulfilled and smiling
aye maalik tere bande hum  //  Lord, you are our creator

.

ye andhera ghanaa cha raha  //  The world is engulfed in darkness
tera insaan ghabara raha  //  Your human is fearful
ho raha bekhabar kuch na aata nazar  //  He is uninformed and blind
sukh ka sooraj chupaa ja raha  //  The light of peace and happiness is dimnishing
hai teri raushani mein joh dum  //  Such is the strength in your aura
tu amaavas ko kar de poonam  //  That even a moonless night glows bright
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein  //  May we walk the path of righteousness and refrain from evil
taaki hastein huye nikale dum  //  So that we may depart fulfilled and smiling
aye maalik tere bande hum  //  Lord, you are our creator

.

jab zulmon ka ho saamanaa  //  When we are faced with attrocities
tab tuhee hamein thamanaa  //  O Lord, hold us firm
woh burayee karein hum bhalayee bharein  //  We reply with kindness for their evil
nahi badle ki ho kamanaa  //  May there be no desire for revenge
badh uthe pyaar ka har kadam  //  May every step ahead be for love
aur mitein baeyr ka ye bharam  //  May every thought of enemity be banished
naykee par chalein aur badhee se talein  //  May we walk the path of righteousness and refrain from evil
taaki hastein huye nikale dum  //  So that we may depart fulfilled and smiling
aye maalik tere bande hum  //  Lord, you are our creator

 

Yours S-S-S-t-t-utteringly December 11, 2009

Filed under: family,fiction+fact cocktail,life,love,Me — gurdas @ :
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Imagine waking up to find you have lost a limb. Or that you have lost your voice. Or that you can no longer speak a single sentence without someone laughing at you.

It is not easy. It is specially difficult if you are merely 10 years old and eager to reach out to the world around you.

Somewhere around that age I started to stutter. So, because of this stutter thing, I lived a part of my young growing years “fighting” an inconsiderate world. This fight shaped me forever. That I could not care less about societal norms, that I will always fight for what I believe in, that I will be able to forgive anyone, that I will be gifted with empathy, and that I can love unconditionally are all in part born out of and/or nutured by this fight.

You have to go through fire once to know what it means to be burnt. And once you are burnt there are only two things that can happen to you. Either you will shrivel and die or you will come out brighter and purer. For reasons I do not fully understand and surely do not take credit for, I happened to emerge talking nineteen to the dozen from my state of speechlessness. I would open my mouth and incoherence would emanate. People around me would become uncomfortable. They would get embarrased as if I have dropped my pants. Some would hide their emotion and keep a straight face. Some would step away. Some would laugh. Right there. Right in my face. It is to the latter that I partly owe my triumph.

Two incidents remain etched like yesterday in my mind. No matter they happend more than 20 years ago. I was in grade six, and stood up to answer something the teacher asked. I knew the answer. I just did not know how to get it out of my lungs. But I started anyhow. And then Sunita*, a classmate, started laughing. And then another classmate laughed. And then another. It no longer mattered if I knew the answer. It no longer mattered if I did finally get it out. For all you would have heard in that classroom was laughter.

The other memory is of playtime outside my house. Probably a summer evening. My neighbours Madhu* and Nisha* and I were enagaged in small talk. Both a few years elder to me. I had this joke to tell which I thought was very funny. So I said I have a joke to tell. Nisha started laughing and said “well, we will know the end before you have finished”. I do not remember the moment exactly after she said this, but I do remember running home, burying myself in my mother’s lap, and crying my heart out. It seemed the joke was on me. I also remember Nisha running in a few moments later, filled with remorse for her words, and crying.

So, unlike most of you, I did not get my speech without a fight. And fight I did. Tooth and nail. Sweat and blood. I just did not stop talking. My teachers had only this complaint all my school life – “he is talkative”. I was obedient, polite, clean, on time, and sharp. They just did not understand why I would want to talk and sometimes get punished for it. But someone did. This half educated, barely five feet tall, and tough as a nail woman I call mother understood exactly what it was all about. No, she had no idea what was the cause of her son’s infliction. I think she did not give two hoots for the cause. But she did know something no other person knew. She never asked me to shut up. She never laughed at me. She never got embarassed if it took me ages to tell her what I wanted to tell her. She would just wait, like an angel, for me to finish. I am sure she would have waited for an eternity if I had lost my voice completely. Mothers are made entirely of the world’s most precious element. They are made purely of love.

So, riding on her love and some perseverance, I managed to come far enough to talk fluently. I still think faster than I can talk, and I can talk faster than some people can think. But once in a while I would find the disability reappear for an odd second or two and the words would jam up. People still get embarassed when that rare slip happens. And I still get “You are talkative”. But I laugh it off. For I have earned my voice.

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* names changed to protect identities.