English: Well, I suppose with its extensive use all over the world it can be regarded as a melting pot of cultures. A potpourri of sorts. I’ve always loved the language. My favourite part of studying English in school had nothing to do with the adverbs, pronouns, infinitives, gerunds, auxiliaries or any of that technical grammar stuff they usually force feed kids. It was the eloquent words of Shelley, Wordsworth, Browning, Blake, Tennyson, Frost, the short stories of P.G. Wodehouse, O Henry, Somerset Maugham and Hawthorne and the great tragedy Julius Caesar by Shakespeare that actually made it possible for me to sit up in class when I knew that I’d be better off sleeping to the sweet tune of my REM cycles. The exquisite use of words in telling a story or expressing a pivotal emotion is a sort of a literary banquet. The level of English being taught in college on the other hand…
Forget global warming, oil spills, natural disasters and corrupt politicians. It’s the English language that’s being repeated annihilated. Today’s English has metamorphosed colossally both good and bad. Well, mainly bad. I’ve made it a point to compile a list of words that are misused, mispronounced and frequently misspoken by people today.
Reeely – I hate to break it to you, but it’s not pronounced ‘reeeely’. It’s ‘really’. You might want to pay attention to that ‘a’ smack-dab in the middle of that word. And as to how it’s correctly pronounced: ’real’ as in ‘ The Spanish Inquisition is real’ and ‘ee’ as in the sound one makes when one is attacked by giant squirrels in the Peruvian Desert. So… I’m sure the general public and other homicidal rodents would duly pay heed to this.
Fab or Fantabulous – I’m tired of A-listers and wannabe A-listers using these particular words to describe a recent party or an air headed shopping spree. I mean, it’s bad enough that a word like ‘fabulous’ gets to suffer by being shortened. But to club it with ‘fantastic’?
Normalcy –Well, in reality, it’s ‘normality’. Sorry, I just needed to mention this technicality.
Bestie – This is what it’s come to, hasn’t it? Bestie?! Bestie?! Well, the worst part has not only to do with the phonetic sound of the ‘word’. It looks a hundred times worse when it’s texted from one walking, talking glamazon to another in the following sentence: ‘Shaddup. U ma bestie, okiee! Muahhh!!!!!!!!’
Like – I cannot stress on how many times this word gets used incorrectly in a sentence, let alone in an entire conversation! Everyone has the common misconception that it can be randomly inserted, just to link a sentence together. Like, ‘I had my hair done and then I like, went to the mall and like…’ See?
Believe you me – What is this? WHO did this? And why doesn’t that person have a conscience?’ Believe you me, otters are said to be taking over the planet as we speak.’ Well, I believe that this makes no sense whatsoever. Excluding those manic otters.
Beciz - It’s actually ‘because’. It’s pronounced ‘beciz’ in that L’Oreal ad which features Aishwarya Rai. Even though the ad has been running for close to a century now, I still don’t know how no one has noticed the mispronunciation before.
…And over the next few years there’ll be many more words which will be flogged, electrocuted and shot point blank. Till then, I guess it’s best not to speculate about the victims and continue making grammatically correct sentences. MIND IT.
Cheerio!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
'Tis The Season
We live in an age where television shows are devoured thirstily and periodically by pre-teens, teens and young adults. Whatever’s new and even remotely dramatic is sure to get watched avidly and then judged on whether it can be watched avidly. And we’re part of that age, whether we like it or not. What with the world being currently dominated by murky oil spills, angry volcanoes that spew out drunken football players and fans, riots and heavy violence against a recent squirrel uprising and poetry professors getting elected by email, a tiny dose of fiction here and there wouldn’t hurt.
Television shows are getting harder and harder to not watch, these days. Comedies, medical dramas, legal dramas, police procedurals – they’re tailor made for audiences to raucously laugh at, hopelessly sob over or gasp and then proceed to have a minor heart attack after dusting off the last few crumbs of your blueberry muffin.
Now I’m hungry.
Anyway. You’ve got your story arcs, flashbacks, flash forwards, alternate realities, fatal twists and turns that make you wonder,” But wasn’t she dead?”, bottles of glycerin, witty one liners, false eyelashes and an extraordinary budget. And it’s all for the sake of entertainment. And employment.
I don’t watch too many of these shows but some of them are genuinely enjoyable and really entertaining. They’re smart, funny, gripping and sometimes, slightly deranged. Apart from their regular episodes and telecasts, the thing that gets me all enthusiastic is the season finales of a few select shows.
Season finales are the type of things that end the season of a particular television show, with a bang. It gives the writers a shot to go little crazy, do a little damage and commit some first degree murder and the viewers an incentive to keep watching and to remind them to pay their electricity bills. A lot of them are really expertly written and carefully handled.
Like, ‘Psych’ for instance. ‘Psych’ really stands out in the fourth season finale:‘Mr. Yin Presents’. Humorous, fast-paced and truly suspenseful are the words that come to mind. This episode is slightly darker compared to the others, but that’s what makes it so gripping. This particular one is littered with themes and motifs from Alfred Hitchcock’s films. You’ve got your classic shower scene from ‘Psycho’, the tower scene from ‘Vertigo’, a staircase comprising of ’39 Steps’, the wheelchair facing the ‘Rear Window’… The best part is that when the episode ends, I yearned to know the true identity of Mr. Yin. With the amount of damage he attempted to do and the untimely demise of the creepy-yet-strangely-lovable Mary Lightly, who wouldn’t want to know?
‘Lost’ finally came to end too. Imagine an island that has eerily strong electromagnetism, can time travel and move all over the globe. It has the ability to heal people and then eventually proceed to kill them. I agree. ‘Lost’ is deranged. But that’s the beauty of it, I’m afraid. I too have surrendered myself to this madness, about four years ago. But it didn’t end as beautifully as I thought it would. Without giving too much away, the 2 hour finale consisted of high melodrama involving violence in the rain, a much sought after plane and the highly dangerous ‘heart of the island’. The climax of the episode didn’t have a really big impact on me. The end left so many questions unanswered, so many doubts and theories hanging, so many dead ends left in their graves. It was the only plausible ending to the series, but left me quite unsatisfied. Even though it’s one of the most imaginative shows (which makes it by appearance, confusing and delusional), it’s truly lost itself in an incoherence of religion, science, mysticism and pure preachiness .
I’m not too fond of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. But if you hear of a shooter at Seattle Grace Hospital in the sixth season finale, it wouldn’t be that bad to just take a wee peek as hell ensues. But alas. No major character died. Nervous breakdowns were in the air. High melodrama and sanguinary ruled those two hours.
The ‘Bones’ season four finale was disappointing. Don’t get me wrong. ‘Bones’ is absolutely brilliant. But the season finale, meant to be dramatic and a drastic change from the usual ‘decomposition-and-dissection-in-the-science-lab’, comes off as slightly dull. But what I do love about ‘Bones’ is the no-nonsense bang with which each season starts. Fresh out of the oven and ready to dive head first into decayed human remains! Figuratively, of course.
Television shows are getting harder and harder to not watch, these days. Comedies, medical dramas, legal dramas, police procedurals – they’re tailor made for audiences to raucously laugh at, hopelessly sob over or gasp and then proceed to have a minor heart attack after dusting off the last few crumbs of your blueberry muffin.
Now I’m hungry.
Anyway. You’ve got your story arcs, flashbacks, flash forwards, alternate realities, fatal twists and turns that make you wonder,” But wasn’t she dead?”, bottles of glycerin, witty one liners, false eyelashes and an extraordinary budget. And it’s all for the sake of entertainment. And employment.
I don’t watch too many of these shows but some of them are genuinely enjoyable and really entertaining. They’re smart, funny, gripping and sometimes, slightly deranged. Apart from their regular episodes and telecasts, the thing that gets me all enthusiastic is the season finales of a few select shows.
Season finales are the type of things that end the season of a particular television show, with a bang. It gives the writers a shot to go little crazy, do a little damage and commit some first degree murder and the viewers an incentive to keep watching and to remind them to pay their electricity bills. A lot of them are really expertly written and carefully handled.
Like, ‘Psych’ for instance. ‘Psych’ really stands out in the fourth season finale:‘Mr. Yin Presents’. Humorous, fast-paced and truly suspenseful are the words that come to mind. This episode is slightly darker compared to the others, but that’s what makes it so gripping. This particular one is littered with themes and motifs from Alfred Hitchcock’s films. You’ve got your classic shower scene from ‘Psycho’, the tower scene from ‘Vertigo’, a staircase comprising of ’39 Steps’, the wheelchair facing the ‘Rear Window’… The best part is that when the episode ends, I yearned to know the true identity of Mr. Yin. With the amount of damage he attempted to do and the untimely demise of the creepy-yet-strangely-lovable Mary Lightly, who wouldn’t want to know?
‘Lost’ finally came to end too. Imagine an island that has eerily strong electromagnetism, can time travel and move all over the globe. It has the ability to heal people and then eventually proceed to kill them. I agree. ‘Lost’ is deranged. But that’s the beauty of it, I’m afraid. I too have surrendered myself to this madness, about four years ago. But it didn’t end as beautifully as I thought it would. Without giving too much away, the 2 hour finale consisted of high melodrama involving violence in the rain, a much sought after plane and the highly dangerous ‘heart of the island’. The climax of the episode didn’t have a really big impact on me. The end left so many questions unanswered, so many doubts and theories hanging, so many dead ends left in their graves. It was the only plausible ending to the series, but left me quite unsatisfied. Even though it’s one of the most imaginative shows (which makes it by appearance, confusing and delusional), it’s truly lost itself in an incoherence of religion, science, mysticism and pure preachiness .
I’m not too fond of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. But if you hear of a shooter at Seattle Grace Hospital in the sixth season finale, it wouldn’t be that bad to just take a wee peek as hell ensues. But alas. No major character died. Nervous breakdowns were in the air. High melodrama and sanguinary ruled those two hours.
The ‘Bones’ season four finale was disappointing. Don’t get me wrong. ‘Bones’ is absolutely brilliant. But the season finale, meant to be dramatic and a drastic change from the usual ‘decomposition-and-dissection-in-the-science-lab’, comes off as slightly dull. But what I do love about ‘Bones’ is the no-nonsense bang with which each season starts. Fresh out of the oven and ready to dive head first into decayed human remains! Figuratively, of course.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Have You Ever Seen The Rain?
Ah, finally the Rain Gods have decided to enlighten us with our favourite form of precipitation, after watching us squirm and squiggle in the calorific weather, as they sit on large folding chairs with large KFC buckets in their hands. The heat was unusually high this year. Definitely worse than last year. I remember leaving the house and instantly being reduced to feeling like a burnt pancake or an overcooked salmon that readily invites decoration from Gordon Ramsay. Well, I don’t actually eat fish. The smell is just revolting. And their eyes just bore into you long after they’ve been removed and the entire fish has been cooked and brought before you. It’s no surprise that during the summer, tempers run high. Boredom runs even higher. I’m sure that residents of the city almost felt the diabolical urge to revolt. I know I did.
That’s why I just love it when it rains. The very first legitimate rainfall in Mumbai every year is not only welcoming but extremely enchanting too. I love sunless skies. I love the look of those dark imposing clouds as they trudge through Customs carrying heavy bulks of condensation. I just love the obscurity created by the mist, the sonorous ring of thunder and the overall gloominess. Oh, and the smell of rain. That moment when the rainwater hits the mud. Oh, and the trees. It’s only during the monsoon that you realize that they are, in fact, GREEN. The sound of rain too. To hear it’s gentle rhyming patterns and its subtle verses. Usually my favorite thing to do during this time is to sit snugly by the window with a cup of tea or coffee and a book. My iPod would be blasting ‘Coming Back to Life’ by Pink Floyd, ‘The Rain Song’ by Led Zeppelin or ‘Vienna’ by The Fray. Those real weather-appropriate songs.
Apart from harmless drizzles and a few notorious showers here and there, I do enjoy that violent, nihilist rain too. Apocalyptical rain. The kind that torrents down, uproots trees and saves innocent school kids from going to school on that day.
That’s why I just love it when it rains. The very first legitimate rainfall in Mumbai every year is not only welcoming but extremely enchanting too. I love sunless skies. I love the look of those dark imposing clouds as they trudge through Customs carrying heavy bulks of condensation. I just love the obscurity created by the mist, the sonorous ring of thunder and the overall gloominess. Oh, and the smell of rain. That moment when the rainwater hits the mud. Oh, and the trees. It’s only during the monsoon that you realize that they are, in fact, GREEN. The sound of rain too. To hear it’s gentle rhyming patterns and its subtle verses. Usually my favorite thing to do during this time is to sit snugly by the window with a cup of tea or coffee and a book. My iPod would be blasting ‘Coming Back to Life’ by Pink Floyd, ‘The Rain Song’ by Led Zeppelin or ‘Vienna’ by The Fray. Those real weather-appropriate songs.
Apart from harmless drizzles and a few notorious showers here and there, I do enjoy that violent, nihilist rain too. Apocalyptical rain. The kind that torrents down, uproots trees and saves innocent school kids from going to school on that day.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Favourite Words
Driftwood – Every time I hear this word I think of chocolate brown logs of wood drifting serenely and contentedly down a loch, against the backdrop of oak trees and a sunless sky, somewhere in the middle of Scotland. Even if the word denotes movement, there’s also a unique stillness to it. And, of course, there’s ‘Driftwood’ by Travis, a soothing song with a deep meaning.
Serendipity – A fortunate accident. The word gets its true essence from ‘serendip’ which is the Persian name for Sri Lanka. One thing’s for sure. If it wasn’t for good ol’ serendipity here, America would’ve been discovered years later, Archimedes would’ve gone on to have a long leisurely bath where he would rinse and lather in peace, nobody would’ve known that nitrous oxide told jokes for a living and chocolate chip cookies would be the stuff of another universe far ,far away.
Cerulean – It’s a crystal clear sky blue. A lot like how the sky is looking right now, thanks to the non-existent rain and the present furnace we’re forced to reside in. Ah, well. I’ll save my indignance for some other time then.
Eyjafjallajökull – Big words and misanthropic volcanoes fascinate me.
Arpeggio - In music, it represents a broken chord. Notes are played one after the other. The word has a really nice sonorous ring to it.
Vienna – The home of Mozart and Strauss. There’s a certain charm and elegance to the word. And according to Billy Joel, Vienna does wait for me indeed…
Golgi –I remember coming across this word in my biology textbook, in the seventh and eighth grade. It’s part of the cell and secretes hormones, enzymes and proteins. One of the cutest words I’ve ever heard of! If I ever get a dog, remind me to name it after this hallowed organelle.
Crumpet – Though I’ve never had the opportunity to try one, it sounds all nice and quaint. Oh, ‘quaint’! That’s another interesting one!
Gild –I always picture a beach lit in various hues of golden sunlight just before sunset. I guess that image will be gilded in my memory.
Bourgeoise – It’s French for ‘the middle class in society’.
Ennui – It’s French for ‘boredom’. Usually the language of ‘ennui’ is spoken quite fluently by most, during the summer where the only interesting thing is getting a haircut because your hair tends to inflate in the humidity. Or eating a bit of Cadbury’s Bournville and imagining someone getting ironed out by a piano falling on their head. Or watching the film ‘Serendipity’ twice in the same month.
Serendipity – A fortunate accident. The word gets its true essence from ‘serendip’ which is the Persian name for Sri Lanka. One thing’s for sure. If it wasn’t for good ol’ serendipity here, America would’ve been discovered years later, Archimedes would’ve gone on to have a long leisurely bath where he would rinse and lather in peace, nobody would’ve known that nitrous oxide told jokes for a living and chocolate chip cookies would be the stuff of another universe far ,far away.
Cerulean – It’s a crystal clear sky blue. A lot like how the sky is looking right now, thanks to the non-existent rain and the present furnace we’re forced to reside in. Ah, well. I’ll save my indignance for some other time then.
Eyjafjallajökull – Big words and misanthropic volcanoes fascinate me.
Arpeggio - In music, it represents a broken chord. Notes are played one after the other. The word has a really nice sonorous ring to it.
Vienna – The home of Mozart and Strauss. There’s a certain charm and elegance to the word. And according to Billy Joel, Vienna does wait for me indeed…
Golgi –I remember coming across this word in my biology textbook, in the seventh and eighth grade. It’s part of the cell and secretes hormones, enzymes and proteins. One of the cutest words I’ve ever heard of! If I ever get a dog, remind me to name it after this hallowed organelle.
Crumpet – Though I’ve never had the opportunity to try one, it sounds all nice and quaint. Oh, ‘quaint’! That’s another interesting one!
Gild –I always picture a beach lit in various hues of golden sunlight just before sunset. I guess that image will be gilded in my memory.
Bourgeoise – It’s French for ‘the middle class in society’.
Ennui – It’s French for ‘boredom’. Usually the language of ‘ennui’ is spoken quite fluently by most, during the summer where the only interesting thing is getting a haircut because your hair tends to inflate in the humidity. Or eating a bit of Cadbury’s Bournville and imagining someone getting ironed out by a piano falling on their head. Or watching the film ‘Serendipity’ twice in the same month.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Yellow Brick Road
As I type this on a keyboard veiled with dust, I’m in one of my philosophical states of mind. Having just heard some real thought provoking music (The Importance of Being Idle by Oasis) and sipping some tea, my thoughts and sentiments have been stirred and strained thoroughly.
The latest subject to hit my cranial convolutions is a dainty little thing called ‘life’. The delicate topic of discussion which has baffled people for centuries. A topic which a countless ocean of people (philosophers, poets, painters and pedicurists to name a few starting with ‘p’) have mulled over, cursed at and embraced through the meandering yellow brick road of Life.
I confess to knowing not much when it comes to this hallowed subject. But through these sixteen years, I’ve found laughter, love and trust, even though they’ve been wrought with mistakes and regret. For the past year, I’ve been walking through life with a rather unhealthy spleen. But what I’ve painstakingly learnt is that all my mistakes have been made for a good reason. It’s a blessing, heavily disguised in the form of an innocent looking cloud. It’s all Life’s way of helping me keep my individuality intact. At least I hope, because this is the only conclusion I can come up with, thanks to episode two of season three of ‘Psych’. That episode is the work of some murky divine intervention, if I may say so.
Another important albeit heavily clichéd lesson is the whole action of ‘letting go’. Just leave the past to recline in its humble abode and carry on through the concrete jungle ahead. And with this parting statement I’m letting go of all the regret which I’ve harboured for some time now. Well …Letting go…Letting go…Still letting go… Okay, this could take a while…
The latest subject to hit my cranial convolutions is a dainty little thing called ‘life’. The delicate topic of discussion which has baffled people for centuries. A topic which a countless ocean of people (philosophers, poets, painters and pedicurists to name a few starting with ‘p’) have mulled over, cursed at and embraced through the meandering yellow brick road of Life.
I confess to knowing not much when it comes to this hallowed subject. But through these sixteen years, I’ve found laughter, love and trust, even though they’ve been wrought with mistakes and regret. For the past year, I’ve been walking through life with a rather unhealthy spleen. But what I’ve painstakingly learnt is that all my mistakes have been made for a good reason. It’s a blessing, heavily disguised in the form of an innocent looking cloud. It’s all Life’s way of helping me keep my individuality intact. At least I hope, because this is the only conclusion I can come up with, thanks to episode two of season three of ‘Psych’. That episode is the work of some murky divine intervention, if I may say so.
Another important albeit heavily clichéd lesson is the whole action of ‘letting go’. Just leave the past to recline in its humble abode and carry on through the concrete jungle ahead. And with this parting statement I’m letting go of all the regret which I’ve harboured for some time now. Well …Letting go…Letting go…Still letting go… Okay, this could take a while…
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Ode to Boredom
O how surreptitiously deft thou art,
With your defiant and determined countenance
For I can no longer afford to finish what I usually start,
Hence, I retire with no more persistence
As I lay my head on my surrealistic pillow,
And dream about existentialism, neo classism and what not
While feeling a stiflingly hot summer daze,
I see a punctilious chateau,
which Lady Ennui dominates with haught,
Her eyes emitting an unusual blaze.
With your defiant and determined countenance
For I can no longer afford to finish what I usually start,
Hence, I retire with no more persistence
As I lay my head on my surrealistic pillow,
And dream about existentialism, neo classism and what not
While feeling a stiflingly hot summer daze,
I see a punctilious chateau,
which Lady Ennui dominates with haught,
Her eyes emitting an unusual blaze.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Ágætis byrjun
That’s the music of Sigur Rós. Brilliant. And beyond beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like it. Being an Icelandic band post rock band with classical and minimalist elements, their music is incredibly unique and meditative. It’s gracefully woven and sewn with the threads of melody, meaning, feeling and beauty. And they seem to do it so effortlessly. Sure, they’re singing in a completely different language which is one of the hardest languages to master and you tend to wonder whether he’s singing about the bacon and eggs breakfast he’d had or something more meaningful. But, once you hear their songs, the overall sound overpowers your thinking. His falsetto voice has an incredible quality which stirs you up. Everything else you’ve heard just pales in comparison.
One of the most astounding things about this band is that their ability to make their songs completely ambiguous. They have the capacity to make you happy and excited and yet leave room for a bit of sadness, nostalgia to trickle in. Depending on what I’m feeling at that precise moment, the songs allow me to revel in that emotion. Extremely few musicians can manage that, no matter how many records they sell. And that’s what I call real music. So here’s to the four brilliant guys in Iceland and their musical quartet, who bring peace to a sixteen year olds disillusioned soul!
One of the most astounding things about this band is that their ability to make their songs completely ambiguous. They have the capacity to make you happy and excited and yet leave room for a bit of sadness, nostalgia to trickle in. Depending on what I’m feeling at that precise moment, the songs allow me to revel in that emotion. Extremely few musicians can manage that, no matter how many records they sell. And that’s what I call real music. So here’s to the four brilliant guys in Iceland and their musical quartet, who bring peace to a sixteen year olds disillusioned soul!
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