I try to say a lot while saying very little. Get used to it.
Posts tagged memories
d’oh joe!
Dec 5th
Posted by SEV in staying.reviews
Admittedly, one should not expect Schindler’s List from G.I.Joe: Rise of the Cobra. Is it too much to ask for just a modicum of sense though?
- Apparently, we can extract neural impulses from a recently deceased person and then convert them to images. We can then analyze them for how long they have “decayed” (whatever that is supposed to mean) and hence figure out how old they are. Based on commonly known heights of people, the length of their shadow in this extracted image and the aforementioned approximated time.. it is a relatively minor matter to apply spherical trigonometry to figure out where on the planet the image in the “memory” is from.
No, seriously. They actually say all that.
- “McCallan, you will be Destro. Destroyer of worlds. And I will be.. the Cobra Commander. We shall..”
[Duke] “Blah blah.. give yourself up..we have a huge-ass army waiting to whoop your ass..”
“Erm, Destro, slight change of plans. We are going to go some kind of deeply underground floating jail, with our henchwoman in a position of deep trust and the American President under our control. Sound good? Don’t worry…this is just foundation for me to be able to yell ‘I will get you next time, GI Joe!’ in future movies. Constant disappointment and all that.” - World destroying rockets are launched. 3 Joes watch in what can only be described as befuddled amazement. The only man who ever gets anything done in the movie at all, Snake Eyes, launches a rocket from some kind of snow vehicle to get rid of one of the missiles. The others watch in befuddled amazement at this too, not moving towards the other snowmobile that is sitting right there.
- 2 men in super-enhancing Iron Man suits don’t manage to do more than destroy half of Paris in their wake. In the meanwhile, Snake Eyes (who else?) while hanging onto the top of the runaway car that they are all trying to chase down, single-handedly ensures that the car actually comes to a stop with a resounding crash.
I knew there was a reason that as a kid I always wanted the Snake Eyes GI Joe action figure. - Why the Cobra characters are actually the people I was rooting for (unlike cartoons where I always rooted for Joes):
- My girlfriend’s brother apparently died in battle, and she is mourning at his grave. What must I, the soldier and boyfriend, do? Turn up on a Harley with ultra-cool shades, look seriously in her direction. And then leave.
And then wonder why she turned to evil/a world hating harridan. - I’m a trained ninja as a kid, and consistently beat this random vagrant kid who is training under my master. Every time I beat him, the master turns away sorrowfully. The one time that kid manages to down me, my master applauds him and calls him the best student.
Why wouldn’t you want to kill the dumb-ass master who refuses to recognize you? And become a world-hating ninja? - I’m left for dead after an explosion by (1) my to-be brother-in-law, (2) my army, (3) my government. Hell they even bury nothing in my stead and pretend I’m dead, and my sister cries her heart out and not much else.
I think I’m justified in wanting to kill ‘em all. Using green devouring nano-mites.
- My girlfriend’s brother apparently died in battle, and she is mourning at his grave. What must I, the soldier and boyfriend, do? Turn up on a Harley with ultra-cool shades, look seriously in her direction. And then leave.
- A floor of deathly mines faces you, which will go off if you touch them with even the weight of a single quarter. Solution? Snake Eyes! He will walk over them hands over feet, hence somehow rendering himself weightless. They then expect him to painstakingly rewire the door-lock so that they enter – he shows them that life is very simple, by just short-circuiting the lock. Yes the main door to the Cobra stronghold can be short-circuited with a knife. Probably why he’s the only one ever doing anything in the damn movie. Respec’!
- Cobra attack on GI Joe stronghold. They pierce outermost underground entrance. Where is the Joe commander’s office? Right there! And of course, later on, when you have the villainess at gunpoint you must… stare at her with longing and not shoot her point-blank in the forehead for having killed most of the men you’ve known. I don’t blame you. That leather suit…
All my cribbing and ranting aside, it was actually loads of fun. For all the wrong reasons of course. But insane fun. I don’t think I’ve laughed so much at stupidity in a really really long time. Classic memories of my own GI Joe action figures came flooding back as I looked for the above picture. Epic battles had been fought by me on the floor of the bedroom, with the bed serving as the base which needed infiltration. He-Man had been roped in as an unwilling villain in the absence of a Cobra Commander figure. I’m wondering where all those figures are today. Somewhere deeply buried back home in Bombay? I hope so. And of course vague snippets of cartoons come flooding back too. Insane action. The Commander crying out that he would be back!
People used to enjoy GI Joe because the Joes never used insane technology. It was about heroism. And ninjas. But mostly heroism. No hot babes in body fitting leather suits (didn’t know Sienna Miller could look like that). No Iron Man technology. Good old fashioned army tactics and attacks. Which was the part Snake Eyes got spot on. Which is why he is only cool character at the end of it all. The only real Joe.
Hey, it got my mind off the insane crap-load of work that awaits to be done over the next week. Which is a good thing. More on that later. As always.
alma mater
Jul 29th
Posted by SEV in staying.in.my.head
Looking out the window, I recognized familiar landmarks. The things you see every day, that become part of a routine; and then one day you see them no more. I was dropped at the corner as I had been all those years ago. I started a walk I had done every day for nearly 4 years. The rubbish dump on one side was still just that – a dump. The other had transformed into an upscale building. I craned my neck to try and see any changes down the road – the eventual destination. I could see some new signs, the rest was obscured by the trees – the trees still remained there. A couple of raindrops fell. And for a minute I was a 12 year old treading carefully around puddles, and heading towards school.
Flashforward. I was here. I stood at the gates, gates that had seemed imposing once. The school building looked about the same, the hall.. everything. Some things had changed. The few shops near school seemed to have improved from their once tiny appearance. St. Andrews College opposite seemed to have cleaned up a bit too. I remember warnings from school teachers about how we had to be “careful” – college students were wild people who smoked, drank and were not good company to have. They obviously automatically became people to observe clandestinely.
The watchman would not let me in at first, eventually, good sense prevailed. A side entrance remained the same, I entered. The first difference came to light as girls..girls! came running past me. We had been boys, boys and more boys. Thus the existence of girls at St. Andrews was one of the reasons for heightened allure. I stepped into the office, rewarded by a smile of slight recognition by an office staff member. Smalltalk ensued while a teacher who might know me a little better was sent for. I looked about the office – the stacks of paper, the files, the running in and out of peons.. all of it seemed about the same. And then Jayanthi miss appeared. It is amazing how even after so many years, the ‘miss’ is tacked on automatically. Her smile at seeing me…
Flashback. First day of computers class. We had chosen our electives for the 10th standard exams, while actually being in the 8th. And started playing with BASIC on computers that had probably come into use about 10 years before we touched them. XTs. The sole Pentium was for special occasions. You could even access the internet on it! Everyday was a day of how we had managed to figure out some other amazing thing to do on our machines at home. Flowcharts & programs, tests. Jayanthi miss critiquing my nascent programming skills: “Satish, this is way too complicated. How are you expecting anyone to follow this in the boards?” I had stood up for my program, and shown that it did work, minus 1 mark for mucking up a variable declaration. Late hours at school working on our projects. Helping each other out of the maze of variables and logic that characterized our projects. Being amazed by the inventiveness people managed with even BASIC (e.g. an entire stock exchange manipulation system).
Flashforward. Jyothi miss had come out of a meeting on hearing it was me. I was coming back after more than 10 years. I was pleasantly shocked.. I was really that important? There was a genuine happiness on seeing me on all their faces. Something special to see a teacher from way back when you were someone who had been transplanted to a place that had seemed familiar, but yet alien. They sat and talked me about old time. I was doing a PhD? Wow. I’m engaged? All growing up! Teachers from my time? All gone. Retired, moved, left. Just the two of them. Changes in the school? Good results. New things here and there. My parents? They called and spoke to Mom. Such a fine woman. Computer lab? We have better machines now (laughter). The new ICSE-SSC rule would really make things hard for the students. Jyothi miss gently said the word I was stammering to say: “Screwed. You can say the students are screwed.” I can’t say it in front of a teacher still.
Flashback. English class. Jyothi miss reading out Shakespeare to us. She had taken over from Ms Alves – a teacher who lived English as a religion. I sat taking copious notes in the textbook, notes that were expanded onto pages of a file that would eventually find its way to a bunch of classmates, as well as future ICSE-ites. I remember being bored by the time short stories were done in class – I had probably read them 20 times over in my quest for reading material in school. Both teachers in their own trying their very best to awaken latent literary talent in any of us. Getting noticed for having good essays even in exams. Having a magazine article published based on an exam essay.
Flashforward. Leaving the office, I entered the hall. Morning assembly. Havan. Prayer. Walking out for felicitation after the 10th standard results were announced. Way too many people on stage for the Science and Math awards. It was being prepared for another such Day, which Jyothi miss had invited me to. I remembered being pointed out former students during our assemblies, was I really one of them?
I followed an inbuilt map into and out of stairwells and stairways from there. Second floor, the library. The library peon, Maruti, was still the same. And knew me the moment he saw me. How many kids actually checked out 100 books within a term? How many had checked out the biggest books on offer at the library? How many actually spent most lunch breaks in it? Who had spent an entire voluntary service week as library assistant? Sadly, the librarian was different. Mine had shooed me away during my 10th standard, worried I would read books and not study. The library itself had actually been improved. Some new books. The structure was the same. The books that had introduced me to MacClean MacLean (ah crap, did not think it possible I would misspell that name!) and Asimov were still there.
4th floor, the science lab. My spot at the very back, where the teacher knew I was the last person to make trouble. I remember the number of times we had discussed our pretty science teacher. Yes, yours truly too. My 10th standard classroom. My 7th standard classroom. My memory of being shocked during my first week in school that people actually stood on benches and jumped each other for fun. 10th standard mass-bunks, except for yours truly, who saw the advantages of coming to an empty classroom, and then spending the rest of the day in the library – partly studying, partly reading.
The canteen. Unrecognizable from the dingy memories I had of it – now all granite-y and shiny. No carrot sabzi (don’t ask). Pav bhaji day meant the canteen was crap-full. Energee, the best thing on the planet. I preferred the canteen from back then. Now it looks impersonal. Or have I been away too long? The tiny basketball court, 
on which basketball mostly degenerated into football. The playground out back has lost all the monkey bars and slides, and is barren. We used to prefer playing at a much larger ground a little further away, especially since you could actually play football. Or actually hit something close to a six. Not that I was any good at either. The havan mandap, where we had a special one before the board exams, to make sure we did well.
Current students look at me out the corner of their eye, some pose for photos that I take, I walk around a little bit longer.. somehow the more I stand, the more memories awaken in me. A bell rings and I watch kids rush back into class, I remember being one of them all too well now. The watchman now salaams me as I step out, I smile and want to tell him that I liked it better when he didn’t let me in. Reminded me of a time when the rules existed and I could not think of breaking them.
I step out, and I know that going to school is just.. going to school. You always miss it, and nothing can quite bring it back.
vishu kani
Apr 14th
Posted by SEV in staying.in.my.head
Getting up at 4 am, bleary-eyed and barely awake, I would half-stumble, half be dragged to the swami corner. Multiple applications of water to the eyes would ensue as my parents attempted to make me notice every single tiny detail of the vishu kani. Eventually, about 10 minutes later, my brain would actually comprehend what it was being made to see. I have the most memories of celebrating vishu at home when Thatha was around – he would be sitting there watching me take it all in. In the end there would be a single question as to whether I noticed the finishing touches such as the gold, and the multiple currencies. By this time, Warsha would be taking an active interest in the world around her, even if both our eyes drooped ever so occasionally. Then would come a small prayer, and we would reverentially touch swami padam before we reached what we termed as the best part – vishu kaineetam. Each of us would get it in turn from Thatha, oldest to youngest.. and the tally of how much we “earned” would begin. I remember a time when it was a competition between all us cousins – any and all sources of vishu kaineetam were valid and would be used. Bonus would be when one of the other Thathas dropped by for a visit – it meant significant augmentation to our hoard.
There are a few things that have dropped by the way over the last 5 years. I could earlier figure out vishu based on the preparations the previous night – Appa and Amma would start post-dinner to arrange the many items that had been accumulated over the past week. Different parts would be brought in from their cubby-holes as the decoration progressed. It would be done pretty quickly, but too long for me and Warsha – it was something that we constantly ran away from doing. Contrastingly, my UK vishus were marked by remembering to see God early in the morning, rather than email. This year I managed the closest I could get to something “normal”: managing to see rice, dal, god, and gold at a decently early hour. There is much more I could have done, what I find strange is that I innately want to ensure I hold on to doing them. I am barely religious, and rituals are not high on the priority list – but these small things seem to be the anchors to a better time, a simpler time.. when vishu truly marked the beginning of a new year.
Happy Vishu.
in the rays of the setting sun
Dec 13th
Posted by SEV in staying.in.my.head
the rays of the setting sun flash across the room, a flash of orange that begins from nowhere.. but seems to search for an end. the glow highlights small forgotten things that lie around the room: a set of cables that are remembered when a movie needs to be watched, a plastic cover ripped off while opening a new laptop, a forgotten set of slippers that lie discarded in a corner. the glint off metal in the corner catches your eye and suddenly the many things that are in disarray seem to jump out. i look at each of them, a clock, a camera case, a cup.. and suddenly an image of a time when i was sitting back on a couch, with a laptop in front, a cup of coffee alongside, a plastic cover ripped off from something i can’t remember… and sunlight streamed in from the windows on the right.
i remember looking up from my perusal of google reader then, and remaining enthralled by the play of light. shadows flashing past as people and vehicles went about whatever it is they did every day. some things were fixed and timed – the mail truck around 10 am, some kind of delivery truck a few hours later.. eventually, time ceased to exist as something i noted, but something measured by events during the day. 630pm, dhiru’s home. 930am, suyash is home. 430pm, i have to leave for “work”. the mind was free to wander.. i remember sitting hunched over my laptop at 3am, unable to tear myself away from ‘watchmen‘, and even re-awakening at 330 am having gone to bed at 2 when i finished watching the ‘wonder years‘ . the room would be dark.. the only light existing from my laptop screen while i remained in the position i had been in since i sat down after dinner. which was also always had in front of the screen.
somehow i don’t retain memories of being frustrated, being worried, wondering whether i would manage to do anything at all in 6 months.. a flash on my screen as the screen-saver kicks in, distracting me from drifting off any more into the past.. to a time when rays of a setting sun signaled the fact that another day of drinking tea in the canteen, another day of sitting back and laughing about everything was done. funnily enough the setting sun holds no memories prior to college; mere flashes of walking down the road trying to find a rick to get home after school.. waiting for fireworks at the epcot center lake having spent the day in 7 different recreated cities, signaling end of days play in playing at the mini-amusement setup on the 3rd floor of al ghurair.
all at once a cloud passes over the sun, and the rays are blocked.. my hand moves over the trackpad.. and black fades back in over memories. golden like the setting sun.
just the other day
Jun 20th
Posted by SEV in staying.in.my.head
1993. i ran ahead, the glories of the day past aglow in my mind. one space mountain ride under my belt, at only age 10, was enough. i was tall enough. too bad for warsha. this was disneyworld, there were plenty of rides for her. that horse-ride for one. she was ecstatic. then mickey and minnie. and a glimpse of goofy. life could not be better.
**********
2008. i ambled forward, having skipped through most of the tarzan treehouse. somehow, underneath all the revived childhood, there was a slight lack of excitement i wanted to overcome. the indy ride had been fun, so had that “jungle cruise”. ‘pirates was probably going to be next, hopefully not too badly distorted by the movie. appa and amma were waiting patiently in the shade. i whipped out the map. where was ‘pirates’ again?
**********
the line was going to take some time. this was a mountain ride of some kind. looked interesting enough. warsha would probably be allowed on it. that was good. the time left when we entered was 40 minutes or somethhing. 10 were over. this should be fun. people were moving, appa pulled me forward. i wondered what we were going to do next.
**********
the pirates ride was not as bad as i thought it was going to be. i went over the rest of what we had. probably get tickets for that mountain ride. probably have lunch soon. got to find fries for mom. should make sure that we get out of this area in the next 40 minutes or so. and at some point ensure i go there.
**********
that ride was pretty neat. where would we go next. my eyes bulged at the sight. there was an island here. with a steamboat. the sign loomed above. ‘mom !’ impatience mounts. ‘moooooooooommm ! look, look, tom sawyer island ! in disneyworld !’
**********
lunch was getting over. managed to find a table and everything. mom was starting to wonder about whether this was all there was to disneyland. the sun was beating down on us. i checked up what we had left. ‘we can do this at 3, its now 1. i have to see this, me and warsha can go here. you guys check these things out.’ it took some understanding, but it was done. i moved ahead. time for tom sawyer island.
**********
we waited for the raft. appa and amma were wondering about the time. ‘just half an hour.’ there something else we needed to get to ? this was tom sawyer island. all important. how long did we have left ? it was nearly 4. place probably closed in an hour or so. ’see na ma, lets do this now. we finish in half an hour, then get going.’ convinced ! the raft came, i ran ahead. it was time. we chugged across the water. as we landed: ’satish, remember, half an hour.”i’ll go alone, you guys wait here.’ i didn’t wait to let them veto the idea, i rand ahead. tunnels were explored, the caves were searched. and i was just starting. some kind of bridge ? forget it ! i wanted vines, like tarzan. the trail was there, the island was as i had read about it. the excitement, the joy of tom sawyer and his exciting life encapsulated on an island. awesome ! kids overran the area. through places you could barely see, over bridges that were there for jumping over. it was tom sawyer and peter pan all in one. the stuff i had dreamed off. it was fun. it was nearly time to leave.
**********
the raft chugged to a stop on the island. i stepped off with warsha, and pointed out that jack sparrow would be on the island in 30 mins. we strolled along the sandy way, i saw a tunnel, we ducked into it. before i knew it, we were in the adventure. dark passageways, low light, twists and turns you didn’t know were there. and all at once we came out. i ran out, and we found the next one. i had to finish it all. how much could it be ? would i find the tree bridge ? a tree-house ! there ! we found the ladder, and saw the area. went down the other end, walked through a crack in the wall that didn’t seem possible to enter. the joy of boyhood was coming back to me. here, there everywhere, fragmented memories of a time of jumping and running, of climbing and exploring, it was all here. all around me were kids at least 10 years younger. and parents 10 years older. it didn’t matter. i was on tom sawyer island.
**********
we left, i didn’t want to leave the island. ‘we’ll come back tomorrow’. i extracted a promise. ‘as long as i want, even an hour.’ i was sated. the next day would come.
the next day involved doing rides we hadn’t seen so far. tom sawyer would be the piece-de-resistance, at the very end. funny thing though. it was 12 pm, but the train clock said 1. weird. mom wondered about it, i thought it was just one of those things. lunch, more rides, and now it was 4. time for tom sawyer. appa would take warsha to the steamboat, amma and i would explore the island. i ran to the entrance. no crowd ? what ? the sign said it was closed at 5. but it was 4 ? no-one to ask. my face fell. amma comforted me, and we watched warsha and appa on the steamboat. all around me, kids laughed. i was bummed. no tom sawyer. when would i get to see it again ?
**********
i never thought i would get to finish it. but i did. i had walked, nay, skipped all over tom sawyer island. an excitement i had felt as a boy reading mark twain’s exploit of the kids in his day was back. i had climbed tree-houses, explored tunnels, jumped bridges. it was a small island, but it was something. something i had been waiting for since that dock sign 10 years ago. i had become tom sawyer and peter pan. warsha had met jack sparrow, but that was incidental.
there is a certain feeling you get as a boy when you live the life of the outlaws in the books, which i had lost. there is a certain magic associated with disney which i was trying to find. i had found them both.
on tom sawyer island.
Based on true events.
some things never change..
Jun 11th
Posted by SEV in staying.thoughts
Age: 5. Parent-Teacher meeting.
“Satish is a good kid, his letters and numbers are coming along well. At this rate, he’ll be ahead pretty soon. Initially, he was facing some issues settling down, but he’s coming along well now. All he has to have is to be buckled down.”
[Dad/Mom]“Completely agree. We have seen the change.”
Age: 25. Parent-Advisor meeting.
“Satish is good, his research papers are coming along well. At this rate, he’ll be ahead pretty soon. Initially, he was facing some issues focusing, but he’s gained in intensity and research now. All he has to have is to be buckled down and pushed forward.”
[Dad/Mom]“Completely agree. We are still seeing the change.”
Me: whether age 5 or age 25, I stand in the background, shifting foot to foot, with a smile plastered on my face, and nodding along.
Sigh..
