Sarvvam Movie Review

Banner: Ayngaran International 
Director: Billa-fame Vishnuvardhan
Actors: Arya, Trisha, J D Chakravarthy, Indrajith, Master Rohan and Co 
Music: Yuvan Shankar Raja

For the Rediff review, go here. 

Warning: If you’re one of those people who’ve booked days in advance and are a drooling fan of Arya/Trisha/Vishnuvardhan, don’t go any further – there are serious spoilers ahead. Important plot points may be revealed, and there’s no point bashing your head later. Instead, you can read the Rediff review, which gives away nothing. 

More movies have been destroyed by hype than you ever know – and despite the success of a film like Billa, Ayngaran International’s hugely anticipated Tamil venture, Sarvvam (Everything), directed by Vishnuvardhan falls prey to the bane of excessive expectations, leaving you with a distinct sense of something lacking.  

For one thing, there seem to be strains of the Oscar nominated 21 Grams, strewn heavily over the general storyline – its just that the movie’s first half is overdosed with light-hearted romance, and makes it rather unrecognizable. There’s the heart-transplant thing, love, loss, betrayal, blah, blah. And bizarrely, it’s only the first half that’s actually the best part of the movie. 

Its strange to see Karthik (Arya) bounce onto the screen, clad in Broadway-esque bowler hat, waistcoats and striped suit – but you enjoy the rousing Yuvan Shankar Raja number anyway, despite the fact that it fits in nowhere with the movie. (You even think he’s going to be shown as a model or something – but he’s an architect!). Fortunately, those cats-eyes and stylish moves help him along, accompanied by plenty of whistles and apreciative applause. And soon, it slips into romance mode: Karthik literally bumps into pretty pediatric doctor Sandhya (Trisha) on a go-karting expedition (they go on no other expeditions after that) – and its love at first sight, for him, anyway. She resist the idea, and for good reason, as his “love’ is based entirely on her good looks – he himself confirms it.  For the first time, I actually like Trisha in this one.

Meantime, there’s another storyline – a mentally disturbed Eeswar (J D Chakravarthy), who’s lost his family in a brutal car accident feels, in a twisted fashion, that he has to torment Naushad (Indrajith) and his son Iman (Master Rohan) – as payback for his own son. The problem is – he keeps looking at you expressionlessly so many times that after a point, you can’t really sympathize with the guy. And there are one too many shots of his wife and son getting bashed up. (Dircetor’s logic: We’ve canned them anyway, better use them up for full, brutal value.). There’s supposed to be a touch of insanity in his actions – but he just looks subdued. 

Just the same way, you can’t really sympathize with Karthik either – in fact, you feel some pity for Sandhya who steadfastly resists his romantic gestures. Surprisingly for Trisha’s work, she makes it believable when she does fall for him – and is perhaps the only shining part of the movie itself. The girl’s actually acted her part well.  

Plenty of duets ensue, while the background score is marvelous, proving just how good Yuvan Shankar Raja can be – along with art director Manu Jagadh, who’s done wonders with his sets – the visuals are astonishing! Watch out for that glass box song, and the one filmed in the desert. As for Nirav Shah’s camera work, there’s just one word to describe it: scintillating. Anu Vardan’s costumes are excellent, while Sreekar Prasad’s editing fits the bill. 

Sadly, those are the only things you can watch out for – the screenplay takes a nosedive immediately post the intermission. Just before the interval, little Trisha, biking with her lover, full of plans for the future, has her jugular vein cut off because of a manja-coated kite-string- and is announced dead. Its the only really moving part in the story – but its appeal is more because of its unexpectedness, rather than any sympathy with the character. 

Now here’s where you expect great histrionics from Arya, the bereft lover. And he does try – you’re reminded of the scene in Nammavar, where Nagesh mourns his daughter. But if that was a class act – this was just plain disappointing. Its obvious that Arya simply can’t let go enough to deliver a knock-out performance. You want to expect a Ghajini – the pureness of their love (what purity? In Ghajini, at least, Asin’s character had oodles of goodness, values and a real innocence; Sarvvam’s love is entirely based on physical beauty) should have moved you to tears, but nothing like that happens. 

But the crowning glory comes post intermission. 

Arya grows a beard (sign of his sadness), stands on the edge of the building he’s supposed to be building (he always wears helmets and stands on construction sites) – and wonder of wonders, Trisha’s father actually comforts him, telling him to get on with life! Now, this wouldn’t be a very big deal – had it not been for the fact that Trisha dies because of a silly bike race proposed by Arya, in the first place. 

Were I the father of a daughter who’s had her neck chopped off because of his ridiculous lover’s idiotic idea, I would have simply thrown him off the building site’s topmost floor. 

On the other hand, there would have been no story – so that’s pretty pointless. 

Now we found out how lunatic Eeswar’s story finally – finally! – snaps into Karthik’s life: Sandhya’s heart has been transplanted into Iman’s body – and Eeswar’s trying to kill Iman. Of course! Now that everything been tied up, the romance and comedy accounted for, let’s sit down an interesting cat-and-mouse game.

But wait – where, er, is the story?

You’ve got Arya running off to Munnar (and say what you will, its the most beautiful place on earth) to search for Iman, because he’s got Trisha’s heart beating inside him. Fine. You’ve got him trying to find some meaning in life, now that his beloved lives aagin. Well, ok – its not as though she’s come back to him in person, or its her brain that’s been transplanated – its only an organ, devoid of feeling. But we’ll leave that too – he’s a besotted lover, after all. 

What makes no sense is how Arya lands a mansion in Munnar like that – or how he suddenly becomes an action hero who’s Rambo incarnate – or how he actually escapes the debilitating effects of – gasp! – snake poison? Or not approach the local police, since Eeswar has followed them hotfoot? Or stay in a house full of glass windows where anyone can walk in, anytime? Or ignore his profession for weeks on end? And then escape, in filmi fashion, without a scratch on him?

And finally, why, why, why must he bash up the villain into pulp, thereby proving, for the 12767864585987th time that its brawn and not brain that wins? 

So much for a cat-and-mouse game that is more productive of yawns and disbelief at the credulous end, lack of logic, and endless chases.  

Inspired by several Hollywood flicks, Sarvvam should have been a gripping emotional drama with well-placed action – but the second half, with its lackluster performances and logic-less scenes, along with plenty of Arya-worship, tends to be tedious.  

Worth just one watch – and that’s for the stunning visuals, musical score and Trisha’s sequence.  

Pasanga Movie Review

Banner: Company Productions
Director: R Pandiraj
Actors: Kishore, Dharani, Murugesh, Vega and Co 
Music: James Vasanthan

Children’s movies always fill you with trepidation – especially when they’re meant for children themselves. Practically every movie that’s meant for “children” has horribly etched characters who are so two-dimensional that you’re bored out of your wits. Its as though children are akin to cats and dogs – they’re incapable of swallowing details, need to be spoon-fed, and have to be stuffed full of morals about honest living, studying well, blah-blah-blah.Then there’s the fact that these movies are a “risky” proposition. Simply put, there’s no money in it.  No star value, and certainly no actor with sense will ever act in such a film. Certainly we’d no chance of expecting something along the range of Ice Age here. Forget the technological advancements – where’d you go for a script like that?

But it looks like finally – finally! – that trend’s slowly starting to change. 

Subramaniapuram was a trend-setter – no doubts about that. It now looks like Director Sasikumar seems to be one of those rare souls who not only understands the need for intelligent films – but encourages their production as well. Company Productions’ latest, Pasanga (Kids), directed by debutant Pandiraj is one such venture: almost unadulterated delight.

Pasanga wins because it’s not just a fairy-tale – the children in it are really children, with their own jealousies, problems and unique viewpoints. When Anbukkarasu, a newcomer arrives in the corporation school to start the new year, old-hands Jeeva Nithyanandham, Pakkada and Kutti Mani (Kishore, Murugesh and Co) are understandably incensed – especially because Anbukkarasu is unafraid of them. Their intro scenes are superb – and productive of some good laughs. Actually, that thread of mellow comedy runs through the whole movie – mild, producing a small bubble of mirth underneath.

A petty rivalry soon blows up into epic proportions, as Jeeva’s cousin, Keerthana, likes Anbukkarasu a lot. Anbukkarasu is seemingly a model student – but thankfully, he’s refreshingly down-to-earth and normal. The movie comes with a beautiful love story as well: Anbu’s uncle Meenakshi Sundaram and Jeeva’s sister Kopperundevi (Vega) aka Sevappukkanni (Red Eyes – because she’s a nursery school teacher who always falls asleep in class) fall in love, and a delightful tale ensues. Watch out for the cell-phone tamashas the two engage in.

It’s as though you’ve been let into the corporation school of Viraachalai, in the vicinity of Thirumayam, and allowed to peek into the lives, trials and tribulations: Anbu’s family troubles, because his father won’t take the time to improve their standard of living, his mother Pothumponnu (Enough of Daughters! – a name given to stop the birth of female daughters), Jeeva’s parents, especially his father, who is mature enough not to take out his personal rivalry on his student.

You can hardly believe that this is Pandiraj’s debut movie – there are sly digs at all the present heroes, their tactics, influence – and the intricacies of everyday life in a small town are refreshingly detailed. All the children have done an excellent job – and sometimes you have to wonder if they’re real families, so perfect is the set-up. After Saroja, Vega appears in a sweet role, which does her full justice. Who knew so modern a girl would fit in so well in a semi-rural set-up?

The screenplay moves steadily, filled with enough pep and enthusiasm to sustain the viewer. Newcomer Crawford’s artwork, and Yoga Bhaskar’s editing are near-perfect. James Vasanthan’s background scores wins a lot more than the songs themselves in this feel-good movie that touches all the right spots. Get your kids and have a blast at Pasanga. The last half hour might be cinematic – but the rest of it is too good to miss.

For the Rediff review, go here.

Movie Review: Yaavarum Nalam

Banner: BIG Pictures
Director: Vikram K Kumar
Actors: R Madhavan, Neetu Chandra, Saranya and a host of ghosts 
Music: Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy/Tubbi-Parik

How rarely do you get to see a movie that’s not just logical and has good performances, but comes with a deliciously intriguing thriller whodunit tag as well? But that’s exactly what you get in Big Picture’s maiden venture Yaavarum Nalam (Everyone’s OK), directed by debutant Vikram K Kumar, and starring chocolate boy R Madhavan – and in an intriguigingly spooky package as well.

Hard-earned experience has taught the average Tamil movie-goer that thrillers and whodunits aren’t really the forte of our film-makers ; the instinct to stuff the screenplay with unwanted songs, comedy tracks and half-baked non-logic is too much – and its often the film’s undoing. Vikram Kumar, however, has proven that new or no, he’s certainly got the goods.

As all good thrillers do, this one too begins with a happy family: Manohar (R Madhavan) and Manoj (Hari Nair) are loyal affectionate brothers, each married – Manoj has two children (Abhijith and Supriyaa). Manohar’s charming, salwar-clad, make-up wearing wife is Priya (Neethu Chandra, debuting in Tamil), while their mother (Saranya) loves watching cable TV and all the TV serials that march through its channels. Much laughter and camaraderie ensue as the family fits in, and little things like the milk curdling when Manohar wants tea, or the lift not working when he wants to get into it don’t really matter. Added to the mix are a blind neighbour and his dog as well (Dhritiman Chatterjee) – who appear at suitably blood-curdling moments. And then there’s Manohar’s friend the sub-Inspector Shiva (Ravi Babu) and Dr Balu (Sachin Khedeker) who pull the story along, as well.

Matters get more complicated when a new TV serial appears every afternoon at exactly 13.00 hours on Eye TV, and bizarre events start a roller-coaster ride that somehow end up influencing real life – and only Manohar, somehow, seems to be aware of them. Tied up into it all is a thirty-year old murder mystery – a chilling incident that still has after-effects.

A lot of people wondered why it was only Madhavan who could connect the bizarreness of everything – I propose that he’s specially attuned to the paranormal (witness the milk-curdling and the lift not working) which is why he could sense that something was seriously off. Also, several of the TV epsiodes aren’t watched by the rest of teh women – only Maddy watche sthe connecting episode, not to mention the climax.  Maybe a shot to show his astuteness would have worked – but that might also have gone against the whole screenplay. 

You have to hand it to the director Vikram K Kumar – these are the real thrills, the spook-specials that you yearn to see on the screen, but somehow never do. Instead of relying on blood, gore and white-sari ghosts, he’s drummed up effectively spine-chilling horror – the kind Hollywood is used to, but which is still new here. The charm is that he’s added enough Tamil elements to it and dialogues, courtesy Neelu Ayyappan make the transition without jarring you. Wonder of wonders, he’s actually tied up loose ends! If there’s a faint whiff of Hindi here and there, and the setting distinctly up-market, you learn to ignore it, as you do one or two other, minor glitches.

It’s the story that’s king here and even the players themselves fall into the secondary category – Madhavan is at his usual, suave best, excelling when he’s confronted with a strange set of incidents he cannot explain. But it’s Ravi Babu who sometimes takes the cake as the puzzled SI. The rest just fit it seamlessly; Saranya and Neethu Chandra look like they’re having fun, even if they’re roles are minor.

Tubbi-Parik have gone to town over the back ground score which is neither too quiet, nor too loud and hits exactly the right note. Sreekar Prasad’s editing keeps up the ail-biting tone that’s a must for this genre, while art-director Chetan Pathak has brought a posh, yet middle class apartment to life. Shankar Ehsaan Loy’s music, thankfully, is restricted to one crowd-pleaser during the movie and the hit song relegated to the titles.

If the director is king, then cinematographer P C Sreeram is undoubtedly the prince of the proceedings. His camera captures perfectly every troubled, nuance, showcasing old and new distinctly, and takes on a life of its own.

For true-blue mystery and spook-lovers, here’s the movie you’ve been waiting for, complete with heart-thudding thrills that’s actually logical. A must-watch.

My Note: I watched Yaavarum Nalam twice more – in the theatre. And I loved the experience both times. its deliciously cool to watch a spooky thriller with hundreds of others, to guess their reactions – almost as though I myself were the one to have made the movie.

For the review on Rediff.com, go here.

Movie Review: Marudhamalai

Marudhamalai: Of constables, cons and corny scenes

Arjun

 

Banner: Aascar Ravichandran
Director: Suraaj
Actors: Arjun, Nila, Vadivelu and others 
Music: D Iman 

What do you get when you throw a few scenes each from Saamy and Mudhalvan, create a few more sequences inspired by yesteryear blockbusters, add Action King Arjun, beautifully choreographed stunt scenes and a heroine in a blink-and-you-miss act? You end up with Oscar Ravichandran’s Marudhamalai, of course.

Counting on the paisa-vasool policy of earlier films, Arjun and Director Suraaj enter the Kollywood arena with yet another potboiler: an upright young Police constable single-handedly wipes out ruling goondas and rowdies, armed with a bare minimum of weaponry, but more lethal fists.

Marudhamalai (Arjun), the son of simple, honest parents (played by Nasser and Kalairani), yearns to join the police force. Passing the required tests, he does so, and his first posting is to Nachiyarpuram, a stronghold of Maasilamani, alias Maasi (Lal), who holds the area within his iron grip, ably assisted by a band of musclemen placed both high and low – and has ensured that the election process has come to a standstill, for the past 16 years.

The first half of the film sees Arjun donning the comic mantle together with Vadivelu, who plays his superior officer, Encounter Ekambaram – a role which Vadivelu performs with ease. His expressions, dialogues and antics make sure that the theatre rolls in mirth whenever he appears. Nila makes a brief appearance as well, as Arjun’s love interest. Matters are going along swimmingly, with Arjun and Vadivelu stirring up life at the Police Station, when Election Commissioner Suryanarayanan IAS (Raghuvaran) appears on the scene, demanding to know the whys and wherefores of the political ruin of Nachiyarpuram. A rabid round of meetings follow; Election Commissioner and Maasi meet; duly challenge each other, and mayhem ensues, with Arjun’s father first threatening Maasi who messes up the elections, Maasi’s dusting up of him – which brings an irate Arjun to the scene. A marvelous bout of fisticuffs ensues – resulting in Maasi’s first taste of opposition.

From hereon, matters take a predictable turn, with stylish stunts executed by a sweaty, trim Arjun (who is now promoted as an Inspector, and gives out his cell number so the public can call in times of distress), dozens of rowdies and a Maasi who’s locked up in jail and bellows at frequent intervals. It is a credit to Lal that he can infuse some energy into such a role. Actors such as Shanmugarajan are wasted – but provide Arjun with an opportunity to exhibit not just brawn, but some brain as well. Raghuvaran makes some impact as well, if you can ignore his finger-wagging – a pity that he appears in just a brief way in the latter half. He’d have made a kick-ass hero.

Arjun snatches some time in the middle to romance Nila – the sequence where she displays her ‘tiny wishes’ produces some laughter, but all the times where she tumbles on top of him doesn’t – dances a little with Sharan Preethi to D Iman’s numbers, full of noise and thundering beats. Maruthamalai Mamaniye Murugaiya is a saving grace, though, with its lilting melody. Meantime, in a climax that reminds you powerfully of the one in Saamy, Arjun packs off the evil-doers in a spectacular fashion, rousing the whole country to applause.

It’s the Action King’s movie all the way. Block out the noise, yells, screams, villains and slinky heroine, and you retain an impression of a slick Arjun who can deliver punches with ease, who speaks and dances moderately well, and can arrange his facial features enough to suit the (meager) emotions required of him. Aside from his obvious fixation with the movies mentioned in the first line, he actually makes the action look good –during some fleeting moments. The rest is a yawn inducing exercise that might test the patience of a saint.

If you’re hell-bent on watching it – get large ear-plugs.

Star rating: 2

Speed Review: Zealous constable Arjun takes on menacing uber-rowdy Maasi and single-handedly vanquishes him with fancy moves.

My Note: Okay, I’m kicking off with the first review I wrote for Rediff. Why am I posting all this, you ask? because I need a record of what I actually wrote in my space, of course. I remember that I went with my mum for this one – and actually fell asleep during some parts. Both of us. 

For the review published on Rediff, go here. 

Movie Reviews

I’ve decided that I’m going to upload my Rediff reviews here – the unabridged versions which are hopefully more humorous and fulfilling and make more sense

Dying To Be Thin

Part of the time I spend online is devoted to reading totally random stuff. Of course, I can always tell myself that I’m doing this to keep abreast of world news, while picking up ideas for the  next article (which is quite true in some cases) – but I do a lot of random reading which doesn’t translate into anything but general amusemnt. Or horrified amusement. The latest kick happened while browsing through pro-ana websites and blogs.

Anyone who’s seen me knows that I’m about as far off from anorexia as the proverbial chalk is from cheese – but that still doesn’t keep me peeking into what their lifestyle is like. I stay away from sites that advocate diets – guilt conscience, anyone? – but ana sites are intriguing. Still, finding hardcore ana sites were a difficult thing for me; I kept ending up with self-righteous, “Starving yorself is wrong” sites. (And they’re right, right?)

And then I stumbled upon this rather beautiful blog. Beautiful, not because of what the writer’s trying to do – but because she is one of those genuinely gifted writers who can just find the right words at the right time. 

And make Anorexia sound like God’s greatest gift to mankind, or some such thing. Here’s what she says to a comment that accuses her of setting bad examples:

While I recognize that for many many women anorexia is actually a piteous, uncontrollable disease, I openly admit that mine is a choice. I starve myself on purpose, in an effort to lose weight, in an effort to hurt myself, and sometimes to hurt those around me. This choice did not originate without its environmental stimulus. I am a full-time actress and model in television, films, and theatre. It’s my career, and it has been for over 10 years. No, I’m not an A-lister, but neither am I so unknown that I don’t take great pains to maintain my anonymity as I blog about it.

Ever since the United States was created to escape the sovereign supremacy of a monarchy, American pop-culture has cultivated its own brand of “royalty.” The masses of natural-born followers still desire model leaders and icons after which to pattern themselves. In modern times, those of us whose vocation requires us to be on display for a living have the additional responsibility of carrying that image off the screen and onto the sidewalk. We are held to these royal standards by the general American public: you the reader, the viewer, the dollar-toting “fan.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what sells. Beauty is admirable – humans are hard-wired that way. And in the US, “beautiful” is worth money. So yes, in a way, this is my job. I know the pain of losing a job to the girl who is five pounds thinner. Even if she’s five pounds “too thin”, she’s still thinner than me; therefore, she gets the job. In many cases, even if her talent SUCKS but her body makes tongues wag, SHE GETS THE JOB.

In show business, there is NO SUCH THING AS ‘TOO THIN.’ As long as I can work, no one actually cares how much I am or am not eating. As long as I look beautiful, I get paid. And until the world-at-large decides to stop voluntarily paying for the privilege of watching beautiful people work and play, I will continue to follow the rules set forth by generations of people who’ve come before me. I will do whatever it takes to do my job to the best of my ability.

Surely you also have a job about which you are so passionate?

All hard work comes with sacrifices. This is the life I chose, and that chose me. It’s not a selfish desire. I don’t do it to spite the unfortunate women of other countries who wish they had my opportunities. I do it to satisfy the curiosity of millions of people just like YOU who harbor that inner desire to live vicariously through the life of someone you admire.

She almost makes me want to say “Hallelujah!” and join the ana-brigade (except that I love food too much to do that). What saddened me, however, was how much of what she said actually was true as far as the entertainment industry goes. The thinner you are, the more work you get (Kareena Kapoor’s size zero, anyone?), the more people talk, the more you get paid. It really is a vicious circle. And its not just the entertainment sector – it works for other areas as well. 

But the methods she uses to, er, stay in shape. Gods. Laxatives five times a day, saltwater flushes and fasting three straight days are nothing to her. This, despite the fact that she’s a full time professional, having to work hours each day – all in the public glare.

My mind is messed up when I don’t eat three proper meals – how come she’s so lucid with nothing but water, water pills and diluted cranberry juice in her sytem?

The real clincher is that she sounds so normal – like all the starving girls out there are doing the right thing – you, the normal person are the insane one. She’s this karma veerar kind of person who is on the straight and flawless path. And you almost find yourself nodding at all the things she prescribes for herself (like doing 8 miles in the gym, then having grey-outs, which are almost-fainting fits because you don’t really faint, you just come close to and then nibbling on celery sticks). I almost found myself wishing I could become one of her loving anas and have her give me a virtual hug in encouragement.

But then, I love Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut too much. And she’d probably have a fit just listening to the words.

Aargh

Admitted, I haven’t been much of a gardening fan through the years. It’s my mum who ought to take the credit for being a thorough green-nut. But there was a reason for my aforementioned apathy: we lived in crowded Nungambakkam, surrounded by moss-covered cement floors and quarrelling people, which made it difficult to have even a couple of potted plants – the effort was simply too much.

Once we moved to Valasaravakkam, however, things would be slightly easier, or so we thought. There was a tiny strip of sandy space beside our house, which set my mother scrabbling for her gardening tools at once – and I wasrn oped in as well. I kept moping that this was damn hard work, cutting and heaping and clearing the ground – but what do you know? I actually began to develop a taste for it. Soon we were clearing the space like mad, and planting all sorts of things: jasmine, hyacinths, roses and button roses …

Until Her highness M arrived to the flat right behind us. The ground is common property, and she decided that she would excercise her rights at once. The whole day was spent tramping all ove rthe garden space, and dropping hints about the over-powering weeds, and getting someone to clear the space and cover it in cement. Provided we supplied her with money, of course (wasn’t this a common area?)

She’s keen to use our side of the garden, despite having space of her own, to dump building tiles, talk on her cell-phone, and get her child to trample the plants. But here’s the irony: she won’t even clear the weeds growing on her side of the gate, because it belongs to the flat above, and they would have to pay to clear it. For freaking God’s sake …!

Why would people want to destroy other people’s innocent pastimes? This female makes me want to tear her papart. Talk about tasteless, selfish, self-centred behaviour. Grrr!

 

An interview with Kalki

September 9 2003: This week happened to be a bonanza of sorts.

I sat up suddenly, on the morning of the 9th of September- it was the 104th birthday of one of my favourite authors- Kalki. (Strange picture forming in my mind- what would Kalki have said if ‘d accosted him with ‘Happy Birthday! You’re 104 today!’ ? Probably ‘Good grief! Who wants to be 104?’) On the other hand, he might have written around 20 more wonderful novels – the completion of which task now falls, sadly, on my exalted self.

K had a great sense of humour, apparently – which became more and more evident as I rushed through his works- all the headlines he’d ever written during his time in ‘Ananda Vikatan’, his satires, his reviews…his friendships, his wrenching away from AV to form a magazine called ‘Kalki’…

This man is awesome.

What if I held an interview with him??

All right. Imagination knows no restraint. (And you, my dear reader, are doomed).

Me: Good morning, Mr. Kalki. And how are you today?

Kalki: As well as can be, I suppose. My wretched Asthma will give me no respite, however. But that’s of no account. I’m lucky, in a way.

Me(surprised): How’s that?

K: Because Rajaji, my mentor, has it too. its evident that this disease affects only the…er…’biggies’ as you people call them. Hence proved that I’m a ‘biggie’ too.

Me: Weird theory…

K: You ought to have known that I’m quite weird. No one else would have chosen to write novels like ‘Ponniyin Selvan’ or ‘Sivagamiyin Sabadham’, in my time, you know. I quite remember Rasigamani counselling me not to start Kalki, as well. It would be a disaster, I was warned.

Me: But you were a trend-setter! You started the fad.

K(brightening): Is that how they think of me now? That’s encouraging. In my time, it was more like ‘this man has gone to jail thrice. And he’s a fly on Rajaji’s tail. Ugh.’

Me: The best things are appreciated only in their absence.

K: You can say that again. Take a look at the greats of yesteryear now. They were ignored during their lifetime- and now everyone is yelling themselves hoarse, screaming their praises.

Me (alarmed at K’s irritation): Er…um…you know, your proficiency in languages is remarkable.

K (grinning): In spite of my not completing school, eh? Accomplishments have nothing to do with attending classes, you know. I’m pretty fluent in English, Hindi, I’m conversant with Telugu and Sanskrit too. In fact, I quite like languages…but this is going far afield. Say… all this is a blog, right?

Me: Um…yes.

K: And aren’t they supposed to be short, precise and all that?

Me: Uh…normally…yeah.

K: In that case, you’ve made me- a person who’s known for precision- yak about a lot of things.

Me: Well…

K: Forget it. We”ll talk later.

K: In MY blog.

****End of Interview****

Now look what you’ve made me do. I start out reminiscing and end up interviewing.

Huh

Book Excerpt: The Foundling

The Foundling

- Georgette Heyer

---

The Most Noble Adolphus Gillespie Vernon Ware, Duke of Sale and Marquis of Ormesby; Earl of Sale; Baron Ware of Thame; Baron Ware of Stoven; and Baron Ware of Rufford – is a mild-mannered, young man with not-so-good looks. His wealth is enormous, his consequence unimaginable, his servants innumerable- but he’s not happy. Reason?

He wants to be ‘plain Mr. Dash of Nowhere in Particular’ , with no servants to run after him, little wealth to mar his life, and days full to the brim with adventures, adventures, and… what else? adventures.

He is ruled by a kindly but formidable uncle who believes that his nephew is a ‘good enough young man’, but rather spineless, and extremely unassertive. Lord Lionel Ware arranges for his newphew to be married to nice, quiet girl of quality who is the duke’s equal in looks- Lady Harriet Presteigne.

Our duke runs away. Literally.

Without a word to his uncle, friends and servants, he packs a bag and sets off – his only notice is to his cousin, who grins and promises to keep his secret.

His pretext is to extricate a minor cousin of his from blackmail- Matthew apparently was insensible enough to fall in ‘love’ with a girl of extraordinary beauty and write her letters- which were promptly confiscated by her guardian, who was now pestering Mathew for money from his noble relative- namely, our duke.

And so begins the journey of Gilly on his ‘holiday’- he befriends a young boy who insists on setting a village by its ears (by arranging back-races for broken-down animals, pointing a bottle and a cork and waylaying a mail-coach)- and the duke – the shy, retiring duke- is forced to enter a police-station and rescue him, dealing with the irate villagers on the way.

He finally manages to trace the hideous blackmailer, introduces himself as his cousin Mathew, engages him in conversation, and even makes off with the letters- without once arousing any suspicion in Mr.Liversedge (the black-mailer) that he himself was the duke.

Flushed with his success in dealing with the scum of the society, he returns to the inn he’s staying- only to be accosted by the fair, beautiful Belinda- the girl his cousin fell in love with.

Here’s an excerpt:

Upon the following morning, the Duke thought it wisest to visit Tom before that young gentleman had emerged from his room, to warn him that he had acquired a sister overnight. Tom was inclined to take this in bad part, giving it as his opinion that girls spoiled everything. When he learned that Belinda’s presence had made it necessary for the Duke to change his plans, his face fell perceptibly, and it was only an assurance that he should eventually be taken to London that enabled him to meet his new sister without overt hostility. He evinced little curiosity, which was a relief to the Duke, and, not having reached an impressionable stage in his career, was quite unmoved by the loveliness that presently burst upon him. He ate his breakfast in unusual silence, occasionally shooting a darkling look at Belinda, and lost no time in effacing himself when he had finished. The Duke sent him off to discover where he could hire a post-chaise-and-pair to carry the whole party to Hitchin that morning, for not only was he extremely anxious to hand Belinda over to her friend as soon as possible, but Belinda herself was troubled by fears that Mr. Liversedge might pursue and recapture her. It was in vain that the Duke explained to her that since Mr. Liversedge was neither her uncle nor her guardian he had no hold over her, and would scarcely dare to coerce her: she appeared to listen to his words, but it was apparent that they conveyed little to her intelligence.

“Tell me,” he said, “when you were in Oxford with Mrs. — Mrs. — I don’t recall the name, but the lady who was thought to be your aunt — “

“Oh, she was not my aunt!” Belinda said. “I did not like having to live with her at all, for she was so bothersome, and very often cross with me.”

“But who was she?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Mr. Liversedge was very friendly with her, and he said I should stay with her and do just what she told me.”

He could not help smiling. “And was that to make my — to make Mr. Ware fall in love with you?”

“Yes,” she replied innocently. ~’I did not mind that, for we went pleasuring together, you know, and he was excessively kind to me, and he said he would marry me, too, and then I should have been a grand lady, and had my carriage, and a silk dress besides.”

“Did you wish very much to marry him?”

“Oh, no!” Belinda replied placidly. “I didn’t care, if only I might have all the things Uncle Swithin said I should. He said it would be more comfortable for me if Mr. Ware gave me a great deal of money, and I think it would have been, because he was so jealous, you know, that there was no bearing it. Why, when I only went out to get a pound of black pudding from the pork-butcher, and a gentleman carried the basket for me, there was such an uproar! And he read poetry to me, too.”

“That was certainly very bad!” the Duke said gravely. “But tell me what happened afrer Mr. Ware — when you were no longer expecting to marry him! Did you run away from that lady?”

“Oh, no, she would not keep me any longer, because she quarrelled dreadfully with Uncle Swithin, and she said he was a Jeremy Diddler.”

“What in the world is that?” he enquired, amused.

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What follows next is a hilarious account of how he deals with the incredibly stupid but gorgeously beautiful Belinda – escapes the clutches of Mr. Liversedge – rushes his charges to safety – understands the excellent nature of his bethrothed – finds new friends- and ultimately finds himself – forms the rest of this story.

For my part, my favourite bit comes when the duke, finally sure of himself, meets with his all-knowing big cousin abd discusses his daring exploits with him- only to find that all his efforts were quite a waste. Mathew being a minor, none of the threats Mr. Liversedge taunted him with, including a breach of promise of marriage would have been held against him.

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“…But begin at the beginning, Gilly! By the by, I sent that young fool, Matt, back to Oxford with a flea in his ear. He ought to be flogged for embroiling you in his silly starts!”

“Poor Matt, he did not embroil me: I embroiled myself. But how came he into the business?”

“Nettlebed recalled that he had been closeted with you the night before you disappeared, and went after him. I met the pair of them in Baldock. Never mind that now! Proceed with your story!”

Thus adjured, the Duke settled down to regale his cousin with the entire history of his adventures. Gideon interpolated so many questions, and laughed so much that the candles were burning low in their sockets before the Duke had ended the tale. Then he demanded to know Gideon’s share in it, and this amused him quite as much as his own part had amused Gideon. When he heard of Lord Lionel’s discovery of his ring in Gideon’s desk, he gave such a crack of mirth that a fellow-guest in the adjoining room thumped indignantly on the wall.

“Yes, excessively droll, no doubt!” said Gideon, thrusting a hand into his pocket, and bringing out the ring. He tossed it into the Duke’s hand. “Take your ill-omened bauble! And now, little cousin, I will break to you a trifle of knowledge you do not appear to have been informed of before! No action for breach of promise can lie against a minor.”

For a moment the Duke stared at him. Then he said blankly: “Do you mean that I did it all for nothing?”

“That is what I mean, Adolphus,” replied Gideon, grinning at him.

This struck the Duke as being so exquisitely humorous that the gentleman in bed in the next room was obliged to thump on the wall again.

“Oh, but I am glad I didn’t know it!” gasped the Duke, wiping his eyes. “Yes, I know you think it ought to be a lesson to me in future to ask my big cousin’s advice, but I would not have missed my adventures for a fortune!”

“No,” said Gideon, regarding him under his drooping eyelids. “I have a notion you are not going to ask anyone’s advice in the future, Adolphus…“

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One of my favourites, yes. Definitely.

If you like adventure, tiny bits of romance, lots of wit and humour with subtle sarcasm thrown in – well, then ‘The Foundling’ is for you.

La Georgette Heyer

The author who developed Regency adventures into an ultra-cool phenomenon. She, who was responsible for converting all those people who despised ‘drippy romances’ into die-hard fans. She, who did away with sentimental hog-wash in her characters, and infused them with dry wit, subtle emotions and a good, healthy sense of The Art of Li(o)ving.

There are a good many writers who make you laugh out loud whenever you read a piece by them – but there are very few, whose lines make you gurgle with merriment even when you’re sitting at your office, tapping away at your computer or laying the table at home. It’s like having a bubble of enjoyment within you- something that’s yours alone. You don’t have to explain it to anyone. The worst part- if it can be called that- is that you’ll be pulled up for giggling by others around you- but heck, that’s a chance one can take.

Its bad enough when you find your life one constant string of monotonous events- and GH (as she’s called lovingly) livens it up. Her heroines are good-natured, honest, intelligent (note that point), and aren’t afraid to cross swords with potential villians (quite unlike the usual fainty Ms. Wide-Eyes who swoons at the sight of Mr.Villain, trails along in diaphenous material all through the book, and speaks in whispery, fluttery tones) and they dress, eat, walk and talk intelligently.

The heroes are- to say the least- lip-smacking:-). Barring a few, most are not drop-dead gorgeous, but they’re subtle, sensitive, bored with the dumb-headed people they meet in real life…and they usually blink a little when they do meet our heroine- she’s so different from the other, swoony, eye-fluttering girls.

One other subtle touch with GH – she reiterates that those couples that are really happy are those who’re on the same level intellectually. One cannot stomach life with a partner one despises, dislikes, and treats with contempt, hein? (Remember ‘Pride and Prejudice’, when Mr. Bennet talks to his daughter Elizabeth, after Mr. Darcy has asked for her hand in marriage. ‘…Your lively talents would place you in the greatest danger, my child’).

If you happen to like nothing but serious and ‘improving’ books, and end up with someone who loves nothing but drippy slush…well. Life can be…ahem, difficult. GH is very careful to bring together only those heroines and heroes who match well- on all counts (beauty and looks come last). Of course, you’re supposed to hitch up with someone who matches you in these things- but that’s er..a rather difficult proposition, to say the least, isn’t it? But GH makes up for all that in her books. Her couples are a delight to watch. They’re loving without being drippy, witty without being razor-sharp, and helpful without being mushy about it. Best of all, they have a ready sense of the ridiculuous- they appreciate life in all its beauty, without running off into long and sentimental speeches (and THAT’s a relief, let me tell you:-)).

And now…let’s go on to my all-time favourite book of GH – ‘The Foundling’.

PS: Note: I am now rehashing GH and Agatha Christie – which made me repost this piece from way, way old archives.