My experiments with tooth

Revolutions tend to begin silently, and secretly, and often start small. Secrecy is like a nanny, often needed in those initial stages, but growing up necessitates the termination of a nanny’s services. And when it’s time to break out, it’s all or nothing. It takes uncommon courage to be revolutionary. To do the unpopular because it is the right thing to do. But revolutionaries die young. The price of rebellion is at best death, at worst, torture or exile.

GP was a revolutionary.

He was destined for glory right from when he was small. He broke all the rules. He loved the good life. He liked chocolate. Of the dark, sticky variety. As a teenager, they called him names. Deviant, crooked and a troublemaker, they called him. Nothing good will ever come of him, they declared. But as he grew larger and mightier, the world could not ignore him. Love him or hate him, there was no ignoring him. His influence was starting to worry the nearby nation of Gingiva.

Soon enough, the high priests of Gingiva had convened. “It is our responsibility”, they solemnly announced. “The moral turpitude of that base rascal GP bothers us. It is our burden to keep our neighbours stable, and not let them sink into cavities of chocolate induced greed. What will happen if everybody wants to live the good life?”. GP, they decided, had to be confronted. But it was not that easy. GP had grown larger than life, and commanded an influence well beyond the high priests abilities to deal with. GP could not be willed away. He had to be betrayed, and some one just had to bite the thirty pieces of silver.

But betrayal does not come easily. The high priests were not popular in their land, and a mass swelling of pride in the land of Gingiva was inevitable.  But the tale took a tragic turn as this swelling of pride was mistakenly interpreted by the kingdom of Dent as a precursor to military aggression. The priests smiled. They knew this would happen all along. The tragedy of the commons. The authorities of Dent panicked and sent an emissary to the court of Orthodont, the most powerful nation in the land.

“Oh mighty Orthodont, we are under grave threat from our neighbours, the Gingiva. While we could have dealt with this threat in the past, we have grown weak, our erstwhile mighty defences enfeebled by that popular rogue GP. He has grown mighty, and he wields influence, and we believe he is in truck with the enemy. We need your help”

The Grand Wizard of the Orthodont sighed and cogitated thus – “It always comes to this eh? But at first, our machines of war need intelligence. We need to understand GP’s weakness before we order a surgical strike. Go ask your Farseer Roentgen to give us a closer view of GP’s fortress in the nether worlds of Dent.”

Farseer Roentgen’s prognosis was graver than expected. GP had grown large, crooked and was spreading his malevolence far and wide, he said. The Grand Wizard declared that there was no time to lose, but an immediate surgical strike was fraught with danger. GP was popular, and he had on his side, the swelling Gingiva and his fast growing army who were in his thrall. GP had to be weakened from the inside. He had to be betrayed, as the high priests had correctly deduced.

Orthodont sent his spy Imol to poison GP and weaken his influence. GP was being drugged. To be rendered powerless when the surgical strike is ordered.
For weeks, GP fought valiantly against the influence of the narcotic that was weakening his hold, but today, the day of reckoning had arrived. Th Grand Wizard ordered the strike. He put on a fantastic last stand, resisting the might of Orthodont and surprising their machines of war with his uncommon size and stength. And in the end, he died, bloodied in battle.

R.I.P Gnaana Pal (Wisdom Tooth)
Born – Unknown
Died – 27th Dec 2008
You have left a hole in the soul of our land. Crooked and deviant, you might have been, but you lived the good life.

Snacks

Snacks, any one?

For some reason I was doing a “View->Source” on some webpage, and I ran across

<a href="#">Pull</a>

And I thought, what was missing was

<a href="#">Sthree</a>

and

<a href="#">Napunsaka</a>

That would have made my Sanskrit teacher at VM proud.

Have a merry christmas. No wait. That would be very selfish. Have a Teri christmas and a Hamari christmas as well.

Update: Naren and I are having a limerick battle. You can follow this sordid struggle here

Note: Perhaps all of the above is a result of some latent fear surrounding the impending theft of my wisdom tooth by malicious dentists next week. Please excuse.

Of Dogs and Curse

Oldest trick in the blogosphere – Copy-paste moderately interesting GTalk conversation and pass it off as a post.

Slightly new but fairly questionable trick in the blogosphere – Copy-paste and alter (no wait..more like lobotomize) moderately interesting GTalk conversation and pass it off as a post.

I had a chat with my younger brother, who is attempting to make a living out of counseling and helping intellectually challenged and visually impaired computers recognize familiar objects. He is PhD candidate in Computer vision at NCSU. And for pretty obvious reasons, he is listed as “Paradesi Nai” on my chat contact list. “Paradesi”, for the sin of crossing the seven seas..well..at least 3 of them, and “Nai” for possessing several other canine characteristics.
In keeping with the highest Tamil traditions, we usually exchange pleasantries before moving on to universally relevant and cosmically profound subjects such as our opinions on the latest in gadgetry and video games. But this particular thread ran into an interesting roadblock at the pleasantries stage itself, and I felt that the world at large must be made aware.

Update: English translations provided for Tamil-challenged readers. Tam people _should_ ignore the italicized text in brackets.

KA: Dei. Ennadi pannara (Greetings. What activities are you (in the feminine gender form) currently up to?

PN: Onnu illa dee saniyane (Nothing earth shattering, you ringed gas-giant -like malefactor)

It is customary to use the sthreeling form liberally during the pleasantries stage.

KA: Interesting choice of curse. By “Saniyane”, I am presuming that you are referring to that a certain yellow hued gas giant in our solar system, the one with rings, and more importantly, the one with malefic influences that plague every human being for a period of seven and a half years, and also account for a substantial percentage of temples’ revenues from the sale of anti-saturn health packs? Strange, coming from someone who is a student of the Richard Dawkins School of Irreligion Presented In A Clipped British Accent.

PN: Dei. Thoo. Thaangala (Excuse me. Sound of extreme disdain resembling a sneeze. I am unable to tolerate the depths to which the quality of your humour has descend to)

KA: Hmm. “Thoo”. Had it not been for the 14,000 km distance between the both of us, I am guessing that the “Thoo” was specifically designed to transfer bacteria and other badass microorganisms from your saliva and nasal tract in order to start a small scale war with my immune system. Isn’t that sort of like saying – “May you also get sick”, and thus politically incorrect.

PN: Dei kabothi, porum dee peter. (Excuse me you optically challenged person. Enough of your pseudo-intellectual gobbledygook)

KA: Ah. wishing blindness for your provocateur? But isn’t conferring physical disabilities in the form of swear words politically incorrect? Therefore, kabothi should also no longer be a pejorative, right?

PN: Ei pichakaara panni, nirutthu dee (Hey you financially challenged person of a porcine nature. Stop it already)

KA: Now, we move on to class warfare eh? So the lack of wealth consigns me to eternal doom? What if I was a victim of the grossly unfair capitalistic system where corporate vultures grow fat at the cost of every one else? Poverty should not be a curse word. That’s unfair to more than half the world. And the porcine reference? That confused me. I thought a pig represented gluttony and decadence, exactly the sort of thing financially challenged folk have trouble with. So was the oxymoron deliberate and designed to insult my intelligence, thus making it a double insult?

PN: So apart from the scatalogical and sexual, no forms of cursing are contemporarily relevant?

KA: Well. You could consider n00b and “Frequent Pwnage Victim”, but they don’t quite have the same punch that Tamil curse words do

PN: Let’s see what’s left. We’ve tried

  • Animal metaphors (Buffalo, Pig, Dog etc)
  • Illness (Thoo, Saavukraaki etc),
  • Physical disabilities (Kabothi and its ilk),
  • Physical appearance (Goundamani style “Rubber vaaya” and “Koomoottai Thalaiya” epithets for Senthil),
  • Mental disabilities (Paitthiyam, Loosu etc) and
  • Class and Caste references (Pichakaara, “You are dressed like a Koratthi” etc).

Did we miss out anything? Typically curse words came from touchy subjects of their time. What could be considered a touchy subject now? Religion is losing its edge, and scatological and sexual metaphors are boring, and heavily overused.

KA: What if I call you an IE user? Or accuse you of preferring Microsoft Word for coding?

PN: Nah. Tech curses are not universal. Techies are a small population with an unnaturally loud voice.

KA: How about taking the environmental route? Call you a “SUV lover” or “Bottled Water drinker”?

PN: Nah. That would be 1 across: Bad meal makes one handicapped (4)

KA: Lame? Ok. Maybe I should stick to curses that have hard to fathom etymologies.

PN: You mean like “Dei Sombu party”

KA: Exactly. Ok. See ya later.

PN: Seri dee

The End

Unimpressive

The standard algorithm goes this way:

When (bad events happen)

  1. Show visceral anger at the perpetrators and make a bold claim that the event did not really hurt us and that we stand strong and will get on with our lives. Cliched as it is, it feels strange if nobody says it, so the temptation to join that bandwagon is rather hard to resist.  So as long as we quickly say it and move on to step 2, we should be fine.
  2. Then blame the administration/government/lack of security for letting it happen because hey, in India, politicians are to blame for everything, aren’t they? We blame the politicians, and they blame previous governments and those folks blame the Partition, and eventually, a route of reason can be traced all the way back to the first man who discovered fire back in Paleolithic times.
  3. Blame the media for a total lack of objectivity, balance, perspective and what do they call that thing we all need to lead a normal life? Ah yes, common sense.
  4. Optionally blame ourselves for being naive about (1), voting (or not voting) for (2) and not holding (3) accountable.

I am on step 3 right now.

The Indian Television media has essentially been saying:

“This is (insert channel name) TV and we are bringing terror live and exclusive. Nobody brings terror into your homes better than we do.Don’t you just love our choice of ominous orchestral music when we show random montages of  terrorists?”

“We are proud of the fact that our TRP ratings are so high that even the terrorists holed up inside prefer to watch us broadcast live and exclusive updates on what exactly the commandos are doing at the moment. At the moment, the commandos are attempting to breach the 5th floor window. Bang. Oh my god. There has just been an explosion near that very window”

“Why are we not carpet bombing Pakistan? Enough is enough”

“Here we have with us a token journalist from Pakistan, and here is my question to him – You guys are guilty. Admit it. Why are you wasting our time trying to give us other perspectives that could confuse our viewers.”

“We don’t really understand social media, but we will also add to the noise by sharing updates from twitter as unverified facts just to cover our bases. We are told that quite a few tweeters were actually tweeting about stuff they saw on TV, but hey, isn’t that a wonderful recursive loop?”

“If you are not scared, you should be, because I’ll get fired if I don’t scare you enough. Can I show you security camera footage of those terrorists in a loop set to dark and ominous music?”

“May I also distract you by reminding you that our politicians suck?”

“The Taj Hotel is the icon of India. Hold on a second. I’m getting a text message from some one named S Jahan claiming that he built something more iconic on the banks of the Yamuna, but no worries. That’s probably a hoax.”

“This is India’s 9/11. At least for now. The Suburban train attacks of last year were the 9/11 of last year, and Parliament attacks were the 9/11 of their time. In fact, going all the way back to 1993, the blasts that killed more people and damaged more property were, in a Back-to-the-future kind of temporally warped way, the 9/11 of 1993.”

“Are we really safe? Our brave reporters went undercover and did a sting operation on hotel security in other cities, and all of you should shake in fear at what they uncovered. We were allowed to drive through security despite having a Leo Mattel toy machine gun in our boot. That could have been an AK-47.”

“Here are some reports that are coming in, live and exclusive. Needless to say, they are unverified. But hey, we’ve created enough FUD that we could practically afford to fire our fact checking department to save costs, and tell you any damn thing we want to. Wolf!”

“We are bought to you by products you ought to be buying whether you need them or not”

And we are all comfortably numb

Crepuscular humour

There is dark humour, and then there is crepuscular humour. Good examples of the dark variety make one laugh and cry at the same time. The crepuscular variety, on the other hand, makes one laugh and then leaves a residue of utter misery at the bottom of ones oesophagus and a strong proclivity, as the great Groucho once put it, to join a club and beat some one on the head with it. The events in Mumbai have given us, over the last couple of days, stellar, potentially Academy award-winning and downright jaw dropping examples of crepuscular humour from our politicians.

Nominee 1: VS Achuthanandan

The rickety Soviet era vehicle Mr Achuthanandan was driving apparently had a mileage problem, and when Major Sandeep Unnikrishnan gave his life to save others’ at Mumbai last week, the good CM realized that he could take a detour and drive his car down to the grieving parents’ repair garage and fix the political mileage problem with a photo-op. The father was not impressed, and declined the request. The CM’s response was this -

“Had your son not died, even a dog would not have bothered to come to your house”

Let me translate that into Malayalam for slightly better effect.

“Ninde mon ee nattinu vendi inganey chetthillangil, oru pattiyum ninde veetil vannirukkilyairunnu

If I had happened to be the host of something called “The Daily show” and my name started with J and ended with a T, my expression on hearing this stunning piece of crepuscular humour would have been something like this

stewart

Hmm. So where do I start? I am so speechless that I could practically be a giraffe. So in the light of my Kerala-style vocal chord hartal, I am going to hand this over to my neighbour’s labrador, Leo,who looks somewhat like this

lab

and he had this to say:

“First of all, on behalf of the canine community, I’d like to let Mr Achuthanandan know that we totally love the Unnikrishnans, and would have frequented their house, um, frequently, no matter what transpired in Mumbai last week. You see, we just like people (especially those who choose to serve the country), unlike the CM, who only saw fit to visit their home for a photo-op  when their only son lost his life.

And oh, the CM must surely be aware that police sniffer dogs, all my labrador cousins by the way, did precede your visit to their house, so you are wrong in more ways than one.”

He also showed me a poster the Canine Defamation League had designed for this incident.

dogsgate

Nominee 2: RR Patil

For reminding us all of

  1. A profound proof in mathematics, that 5000 > 200, and therefore his government deserves credit.
  2. A reaffirmation of Newton’s first law of motion, that it requires the force of political incompetence to keep this tragic train of terror events moving, “Yeh sab chalthaa hi hai”
  3. The failure of reverse psychology (“I will not resign”) in its ability prevent the inevitable – his resignation.

Nominee 3: Vilasrao Deshmukh, soon to be full-time consultant for RGV’s next dud – Ram Gopal Varma ki Gaand mein Aag

While I have never understood why our politicians waste our time and money doing things like assessing flood situations from helicoptersand disturbing sick people in hospitals with a media circus, without either a degree in aerial geology(?) or medicine, Mr Deshmukh’s tour of the Taj post-tragedy was particularly interesting from 2 other perspectives:

  1. What the four letter word is his lame (no, paraplegic) actor son doing on an official visit?
  2. What the present continuous form of the four letter word prefixed with a close relative and suffixed with a really bad place is Ram Gopal Varma doing accompanying the CM on an official visit?

Nominee 4: Narendra Modi

For attempting to gain mileage out of the death of a man he had recently abused over the Malegaon arrests. Hemant Karkare’s widow did what Major Unnikrishnan’s father did – asked him to politely GTFO. In fact, rather ironically, the polite Tamil expression for gently requesting a person to move his posterior away from oneself is Moodittu Podi, or Modi for short.

Update: There have been repeated demands for Nominee 0: Shivraj Patil, but I had left him out because I thought his contribution to this award winning ensemble drama was achieved by his absence. But do read Ramesh’ brilliant take on this:

http://www.rameshsrivats.net/2008/12/shivraj-patil-versus-sardar-patel.html