Interview with Milkmen - Redux

Hi, I got interviewed by a proper journalist properly - this lady called me up and asked me all sorts of questions regarding financial security and the like. It was great fun. I feel so celebrity-like already. Thank you, Francis, for giving my phone number to these people.

Also, Xebo (remember him?) interviewed me a couple of days back about Subtle Subramanian and other related issues. And while I stated earlier that I wouldn't let Xebo contribute to my blog again, too many people are asking me these questions, and so I thought I'd answer them here. Its only now that I realise that Xebo is always a bad idea.
***

Xebo: Good evening, Danser. Its bloody lovely to have you here...
Me: Just get through with the Questionnaire.
X: Okay. But let me go through some assurances from your side first - a) you will report everything honestly b) you will not censor anything...
M: Hey da, DansGuardian, the dreaded netnanny type thing blocks this blog within the Law School network. I have to be careful. So, all four-letter-words shall be replaced with 'Dans' and its derivatives.
X: Oh, that explains that mutilation in the first line. (Smiles all around - aandthirtyeights is happy with the non-confrontational start to the interview) Okay, first question. Initially, we were under the impression that with Subtle Subramanian, you had finally matured - that you didn't need to be inspired by your own life to write these romances. CENSORED. (aandthirtyeights laughs meanly!) DANSER, YOU DANSING SAID YOU WOULDN'T DANSING CENSOR ANYTHING!
M: Dans you. (more mean laughter) Its my blog. I am King.
X: Power corrupts. (aandthirtyeights laughts meanly again) Why don't you audition for the role of a villain in an 80s Kannada movie? That laugh goes well with your unshaven look.
M: To answer your question, I auditioned for the sequel to Sarkar Raj.
X: Oh, you wont make that. Your look's too intense for that also. But getting back to the issue of real life inspiration in Subtle Subramanian...
M: All writers have inspirations for their stories - often from real life...
X: Dans you. Answer in specifics.
M: No, there was no inspiration whatsoever.
X: No inspiration? Lila?
M: Lila?
X: Yes, Lila.
M: I'm going to censor you.
X: No, I was talking of the more obvious inspiration, not the really subtle one that even you didn't notice!
M: Who?
X: Tanvir Gill.
M: Tanv... What nonsense... T-T-That was just a... um, a coincidence.
X: You watch her three times a day. Google her every time you get bored, and then you write a story about a hot newsreader.
M: Dude, it was Dansing coincidence. Lila in my head looked very different from Tanvir Gill.
X: What did Lila look like?
M: Hmmm. I never described her in the series, except in vague superlatives. I think I want to leave her look a little ambiguous. People have imagined Lila in their own ways. I don't want to spoil it by setting a look now.
X: Translation for readers - "She looks just like Tanvir Gill, but our man doesn't want to admit it." Is it also true that you left her a message on Facebook telling her that she was really pretty?
M: Would I do something like that? I mean, what do I look like?!
X: Are you denying it?
M: Categorically.
X: I can prove it.
M: How?
X: A criminal always tells people of his crimes.
M: Danser, what are you talking about?
X: Tra-la-la...
M: Danser...
X: People will believe me anyway, because you're the kind of guy who'd think leaving such a message is romantic.
M: It is, in a way...
X: Its creepy. Not romantic.
M: How would you know? No one leaves you any messages. On anything.
X: Lets take independent opinion, Creep. People, readers, don't you think its creepy?
Readers: Of course. Especially if it comes with aandthirtyeights' Facebook photograph.
M: What's wrong with my photograph?!
X: It features a guy with sunken eyes and a evil half-grin. Creep.
M: Dans you.
X: Haha, your biting wit and retort has given way to a series of 'Dans you'. Haha. You're under pressure. Khair, lets talk of your upcoming ventures. What's this Love Theme in Ritigowla?
M: Point number one: you just used the term 'khair'. You're turning into You-Know-Who. Point number two, yes, I'm planning to serialise and extend Providing Apt Support, and the series will be called The Love Theme in Ritigowla.
X: Ah. Suggested reading, guys - here. And suggested listening - here. So, dude, again its something inspired by real life...
M: What'd'ya mean?
X: I mean, again, there's the same trail - smite, Googling, unanswered Facebook message, and now serial...
M: Dude, you have to be careful of what you say. Even when you talk nonsense, everyone believes you. People trust you more than they trust me...
X: What a sad cover-up!
(At this point, the subject of the interview inflicted horrible physical damage on the interviewer and left the building. The interviewer struggles in hospital for his life. No, the interviewer is just lying - he is in grave danger of losing seventeen skin cells on his neck, and a nerve that controls his sense of direction. Dans you. I am struggling for my life. Dans you, too. The next time you see the aandthirtyeights, please ask him about Facebook messages. If you do, I'll inflict horrible pain on you.If you don't believe me, you can ask the recepients. You know who they are!)
***
"Doctor, is Xebo alright?"
"Xebo cant Dans, saala."

Feeling the Gamakam

As I stopped at the Bhashyam Cirle signal on my way to T.M. Krishna at Gayana Samaj, I ejected the O.S.Thyagarajan tape that I was listening to for the last five drives, and fished out a KVN at San Diego from the dashboard. The tape started off somewhere in the middle of his simmering pallavi in Bhairavi. It took me hardly three seconds to figure out what taalam, and where the pallavi started - it was a simple adi taalam, with the pallavi starting on the beat. The pallavi reminded me that one doesn't need to sing in Sankeerna Jati Ata Talam, with the pallavi beginning three and three-quarters beats into the talam, and changing to tishram in the middle for four and two-thirds of a beat, to create riveting music. Simplicity has its own beauty. And this was as beautiful a Bhairavi as one can come across.

The swaras were reaching their crescendo, and I had Ctrl-C ready in my mind, waiting to pounce on the mukthaayam, when the tape stopped. The tape was over, and when it reversed to the other side, the concert would start again. I found myself in the middle of a nasty Cottonpet traffic jam. Surprisingly, I hadn't even realised that I had endured all that traffic near 8th Cross, Nataraj theatre, Rajiv Gandhi Circle, Swathi Hotel and the Railway Station! It was only at Cottonpet when the tape stopped playing, and I was robbed of my Bhairavi that it mattered!

The tape reversed, and KVN announced, "I shall start with a varnam by Pacchimirium Adiyappier..." I was stunned. Bhairavi again! Pacchimirium Adiyappier's Viribhoni. His story is a fascinating one - the composer of Carnatic music's most famous and arguably its greatest varnam is known for nothing else. I've heard that he spent years composing Viribhoni - and it shows. There is enough in that varnam to be studied for a lifetime. Nearly every phrase in Bhairavi finds a place in that Varnam. Every gamakam, and every nuance of every gamakam is explored. Adiyappier composed nothing else of note in his life, but has ensured himself of immortality with this monument of a varnam.

I reached Gayana Samaj and found parking, but waited for the varnam to end before leaving the car. At the concert, T.M. Krishna started with Bhairavi again!
***

When the concert ended, I went for a dinner with three other flutists - my teacher, a 'boy' from the US who's a fellow student, and a Western Classical flutist who's spending some time in India learning Indian music, and trying to find peace and quiet in Srirampuram to finish some composing assignment. At the end of an enlightening discussion on the two forms of music, he said, "Yeah, I can play a couple of simple geetams on the bamboo flute now." I smiled, and he continued, "For the first time in my life, I felt a gamakam on the flute. I've never been this happy!"

I remember that feeling all too well. On the flute, you're taught Mohana Raagam before anything else, and two weeks after picking up the flute, I was playing Ninnukori like it would have been played on a harmonium. It was only when I reached geetams that I felt my first gamakam - it was the first slide in Padumanabha - the ri that had to rise from the depths of the da. From there, to handling the GmR in Kanada has been a long and enthralling journey, but the joy of feeling my first gamakam remains unsurpassed!
***

Snippets from Yesterday: 2 Nos.

First, A Phone Conversation with a Good Friend

"Macha, I really like that song from Jaane Tu Ya Jaane na..."
"The Aditi song?"
"Yeah - I mean, there's something about songs with people's name in them..."
"Hey Mickey, You're so fine..."
"No da."
"The Obama Song by the Obama Girl?"
"Hey..."
"Monicaaaaaaaaa, O My Darling!"
"Wait..."
"O Raveena raveena raveena oooooo."
"Dai..."
"Oye Raju, pyaar na kariyo, dariyoooo, dil toot jaata hai."
"Um, I was thinking more along the lines of 'Dil Kya Kare', or 'Tu hai Meeeeeri Kiran!' or 'Meri Bheegi Bheegi Si...'
"My name is Manjeetttu."
"Hey da, something like 'Onnavidaaaaa'!"
"En peru Padaiyappa..."
Click.
Jokes apart, there is something about songs with names in their titles. Like right now, after listening to the Aditi song six times in a row, I want to find an Aditi and sing it to her. (No, I didn't feel similar reactions with the Mickey song.)
***

Second, The Day of the Freaks

(Yes, yes, that title is inspired by this. Yes, yes, I haven't read it yet.'Yet' being the crucial term. Just acquired a copy. Also, this is a long and rambling post. You are warned.)

I spent a fruitful last evening eating cheese sandwiches, with homemade ice lemon tea and watching two sporting freaks weave their magic around much-fancied opposition - the first was a 22-year-old upstart with a forehand that caused many tornadoes, none bigger than the one yesterday; and the second was a, um, a spinner (in the most liberal sense of the term), who reminds me of a Mak Lubricant advertisement with the tag line, "Legspin, Offspin, aur yeh bowled!" I watched a lot more of the Spaniard than the Lankan.

I was nervous even before the evening started. I felt underprepared for the final, and that was largely because I had watched only one Federer game this year, and that was his first round match against Hrbaty. A the first set got under way, and there was this torrent of whirling topspinners, scurrying, indefatigability and improbable angles, the nervousness grew. Federer wasn't playing all that badly, but Nadal still got his nose in front. Federer gave it his all, to be fair, but Nadal made him play one extra ball each time, and the errors came. The second set was more of the same angles, the body-serves, the gruelling down-the-line backhands. I could feel it two continents away - the champion's will weakened, as breakpoint after breakpoint slipped through his fingers.

At two sets down, depressed as hell, I switched to the cricket. Sehwag - 59 off 33, the TV read. I was stunned! Along came Mendis bowling his Right Arm Guile - for that's what he bowls. And its not just variations in direction of turn, but in length, flight and pace. One over, and Sehwag and Yuvraj were out. Before I could digest that news, Raina and Sharma fell. Now, both channels were depressing.

I switched back to the tennis and watched Federer grind out service games, and spill chances on Nadal's serve. It was going well till the ninth game. After looking comfortable for most of the set, Federer got himself into 15-30. He barely wriggled out of that when the rain came. I gathered that Nadal had chased down each ball, and used the wind to his advantage to disturb Federer. And Federer refused to play the slice return. I was aghast, and needed some consoling. I called a friend, great Federer fan, but he sounded gloomier than me. Vijay Amritraj spoke of mental blocks. I logged on to orkut, and checked out the Federer community. That was most distressing - most people were already speaking of revenge next year (often in Portuguese). What gave me confidence was the Goran-Henman game in the 2001 semifinal. Goran came back a different player after the rain break.

Federer, too, came back with a vengeance. He played a few brilliant points, as he had done in the game until then, but ensured that he didn't allow his serve to be broken. After playing a solid tie-break, he unravelled more drama in the fourth. On each Championship Point, I felt more nervous than I had ever done in my life. And when he saved one with the shot of the match - a bachkand down-the-line, I was convinced that he would win.

The fifth set, all was even, when rain came again. The Borg-McEnroe tiebreak aptly played in the break. The second break hadn't changed the tense atmosphere - it was gloomier than ever before, and the players produced tennis that only they could produce. This rivalry beats all that I've seen in my life. Sampras-Agassi was a stop-start, and there were times when one was better than the other. On Sampras' home turf, Agassi couldn't make a dent. In this rivalry, Federer doesn't have a home turf anymore. And Nadal sits proudly on two thrones. Just last year, people spoke of invincibility, ultimate greatness and everyone on the men's tour fighting for second spot. Only a fool or an optimist would do so today.

What makes Nadal so special? He's got this style that's entirely his own - I don't think there is a single player with that forehand, with that superhuman athletic ability and the sheer tenacity to gnaw away at a player's will. He's also got this uncanny court sense - he sees passes and winners that others cant see, he is excellent at guessing where the next ball will come, and when the rallies get longer, he uses this same court sense to small dents on the opponent's hits until he creates a chance for a winner. Above all, he hits the ball so bloody hard. So, if his unorthodoxy doesn't trouble you, the weight of his hitting sure will.

All unorthodox players need a second, more consistent, weapon to make up for players getting used to their unorthodoxy. Nadal has two - his backhand that hardly ever fails him, and his ability to retrieve. Anil Kumble, another bowler who would fall under the category of Right Arm Guile had many such weapons - his accuracy, his lionheartedness, his love for the longest spells, and his supremely sharp brain. Mendis needs to develop these weapons to sustain himself over a period of time. In the one-day game, when players are trying to take him on, he might get away easier. But in the Test matches, when a Rahul Dravid decides that he will wait endlessly for the bad ball and just block everything else, or a Laxman begins to read his mysterious fingers like he read Warne's, he might not be this effective.

The true test of an unorthodox player comes then - when he has to adapt to newer parameters and better opponents. Nadal came out with flying colours yesterday, when he showed why he was better than an unorthodox Fabrice Santoro, and put his name amongst the greatest in tennis history. Kumble did it when he picked up all those wickets on a comeback in Australia. Chanderpaul has been doing it for nearly two seasons now scoring runs everywhere and against everyone. Mendis, therefore, has a fair distance to go.

A New Theory of Life

(Spike informs me via email of a couple of facts that I've gotten wrong. The post has been suitable modified and his email has been reproduced at the bottom of this post.
***

Now, I've been giving a lot of thought to philosophy and all things related - especially, the Purpose (or lack thereof), the Meaning (or lack thereof), the Answer (or lack thereof) and the Question (or lack thereof) of life. Now, it all boils down to one issue, ok, maybe two - first, reorganising one's life based on devotional serials on Sun TV, and second, the secret of sweetening cappuccino served at Barista? The latter is still waiting to be solved - my last experiments involved three sachets of Barista sugar. The former, whose mysteries have been unlocked, will be discussed in detail here.

Now, devotional serials are of two sorts - the Traditional School and the Adventurous School. In the Traditional School, a well-known mythological tale is re-enacted for educational/ recreational purposes. Lots and lots of gold paper, fake jewellery, cardboard sets, bare-chested men, and overly made-up men are employed to generate feelings of unimaginable devotion amongst the masses. While the venture sometimes succeeds, often, it only generates mass narcelepsy and acute cases of chronic boredom. A good case in point is the new and 'improved' Ramayan, where Rama's wedding (in an bizarre accurate interpretation, princesses were found for the other three princes at the same time - orey kalliley naalu maanga) was shot over five episodes in excruciating detail. This even included a whole ten-minute segment where the everyone looks at wedding photographs. Sharp, aren't you? There were no photos at the time. You're puzzled aren't you? Well, technology, it seems, was available - highly skilled painters painted each scene, and such paintings were on display! Only, the paintings looked at lot like they were Photoshopped photographs.

Life, we gather, from these serials, is gloriously fake. It is the world's worst illusion. And the production values are really bad.

And then, there is the Adventurous School. This is where Gods and Demons fight out their rivalries in the modern era - amongst corporate rivarly, warring siblings, estranged lovers and multitudes of mustachioed men. In these serials, unlike the Traditional School, evil and virtue is demarcated very clearly. The evil are unabashedly, relentlessly, incurably evil. They have no reason for being evil - they just are. The good, on the other hand, are unabashedly, relentlessly, incurably good. God, of course, protects the good, and the Bad God protects the Evil. Good God is, unsurprisingly, stronger and better looking. Bad God wears black, has bad teeth and unkempt hair. (Rumours are that Ishant Sharma is auditioning for a couple of roles.)

Funnily enough, its the Bad guys who are more enterprising than the Good guys. They also show more spirit, and a greater will to achieve their goal. The Good guys just wallow in self-pity and desperate devotion. The Good guys, in turn, get to see God as often as we see Australia winning a cricket match. They react to this with a half-in-tears expression of extreme gratefulness coupled with generous measures of expression of helplessness. The Bad guys also have two stock expressions. The first is the Plotting Expression - this is usually a long-speech explaining The Plan, followed by resounding evil laughter. The second is the Plan Foiled Expression - this is one of uncontrolled anger (may involve the throwing of a couple of cardboard props) and followed by The Plotting Expression unveiling the next Plan to destroy the Good.

The Good suffer for long (at least as long as the serial runs), and the Bad have a great time coming up with plan after plan. It is only at the end of the serial that the Bad is eternally destroyed.

Therefore, I have a new theory of life. The choice before each man is three hundred episodes of laughing and plotting followed by destruction, versus three hundred episodes of crying and praying, followed by destruction of Baddie (I've also heard that God has stopped providing the No New Baddie Guarantee with his package these days - three hundred episodes could become six hundred, and God forbid (quite literally), nine hundred). The choice, hence, is clear.
***

Spike's mail:
"Valmiki, The Ramayana (Abridged and Translated by Arshia Sattar) (2000) p. 89 (Balakanda)

"Best of men, the clans of Janaka and Dasaratha are matched beyond all expectation. None other can equal them' said Visvamitra 'Rama and Sita, Laksmana and Urmila are matched in virtue and beauty. There is one more thing that I would like to add. Kusadhvaja, my younger brother is a righteous king and he has two daughters who are unrivalled on earth for their beauty. Let them marry prince Bharata and the wise Satrughna...

Janaka saw that Vasistha agreed with Viswamitra's proposal and so he joined his palms in respect and said to the two sages '... Let Kusadhvaja's daughters be given as wives to Bharata and Satrughna, for then the alliance between our clans will be strengthened! All four couples shall be married on the same day, the one determined by the wise as the best for the marriages.""

NOT a Review of Sarkar Raj

Let me reiterate at the outset that this is not, and I stress, not a review of Sarkar Raj. These are merely uncritical (and the term 'uncritical' is crucial), amateur (equally crucial qualification) notes on my experience of watching the film yesterday with the mysterious A.X (who now blogs here - oh, don't bother clicking on the link, the blog is only open to invited readers - I wonder if A.X. needs to be 'in love' with these readers to invite them). Again, I stress - I am not a critic, and this is not a review. I mean, I don't want Ram Gopal Varma revealing to the world that I hound producers who refuse to touch me. Oh, my favourite bit from his diatribe:

"Khalid Mohammed has made such horrendous films like Fiza, Tehzeeb, Silsilay etc (sic). If he or anybody thinks otherwise, the whole industry knows how many actors and investors are queuing up in front of his house fighting each other to get his films made (sic). Even I made big flops and precisely because of that I don’t become judgmental on someone else’s work (sic)."
(Emphasis mine)

So, A.X. and I watched Sarkar Raj last evening. It was a delightfully gay evening - we walked from Cunningham Road to MG, bought a phone for his mom, ate sandwiches at Indiana's (burgers weren't available!), and then went for the movie. The movie, however, was anything but gay. (I mean 'gay' in the 'happy' sense.)

Depressing plot turn after depressing plot turn are punctuated by Abhishek Bachchan's I'm-intense-because-my-face-never-changes expression (honestly, Big B's sentimental speech to Abhishek Bachchan's photograph at the end seemed so natural, because Abhishek's expression was the same throughout the movie - Sarkar could have mistaken him for the photograph!), Aishwarya Rai's what-am-I-doing-in-this-movie look, the sidekicks' please-cure-my-constipation mien and the just-in-case-you-don't-get-it-,-this-is-a-serious-movie background music. In fact, that is the real problem with Sarkar Raj and Ram Gopal Varma in recent times - he takes himself too seriously. Its reflected in the unnecessarily arty lighting in each scene of the movie (twice in the first ten minutes, characters come out of the darkness into the light and stare menacingly), camera movements that toe the line between high craft and a drunken cameraman, dialogue straight out of an 80s Hindi movie, and a grey-gloved, enigmatic contract killer who evokes more laughter than fear.

And then, there are the villains - a double-crossing Deputy CM with Jim Carrey-esque facial contortions, a needlessly slimy Hasan Qazi (play unmistakable cheap movie villain background music), the two villains whose identities I shall not reveal (I don't want to spoil Big B's Poirot-like explanation at the end), and Vohra. Now, Vohra has his trademark line, "Wohraa, not Vohra," that seems to be inspired by Dr. Winkel ("Vinkel, not Winkel") in The Third Man (yes, yes, I'm obsessed). RGV will obviously claim that there's no inspiration whatsoever, and probably that he's never even watched the film, which is a pity, because Sarkar Raj could well have done with some music by Anton Karas (Man, that zither! Is there anything as haunting?).
Recently, I watched Kshana Kshanam again, and managed to catch the last half of Shiva on TV. I wonder where that Ram Gopal Varma's gone. As I go through his filmography I see classics like Gaayam, Govinda Govinda, Rangeela, Satya, Kaun, and Company. After Company comes the fall - with Bhoot that looked like a Ramsey Brothers product, the average Sarkar, unmentionable Darna Zaroori Hai, the seriously flawed Nishabd, a bad remake of Shiva, and an even worse remake of Sholay. His older films had great humour (watch this selection from Kshana Kshanam); they had everlasting characters - Bhiku Matre (Manoj Bajpai) from Satya, Chandu and Satya in Kshana Kshanam, the villain eating Eclairs chocolate in Ananganaga Oka Roju, or even Durga, the villain in Jungle; most importantly, his older movies had soul. His newest one only has Abhishek Bachchan imitating Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator.

Recent Obsessions

KVN and Soul-searching

When I was thirteen or a little less, I remember listening to MS singing "Akhilandeshwari" on a tape from a little cassette player in Thatha's house in Madras. That is possibly my earliest memory of listening to a song and being spellbound, not by technical wizardry or speed, but by its grace, soul and emotion of the rendition. It wasn't the first time I heard "Akhilandeshwari", nor the last, but I cant recall any other version as vividly as this one.

That is exactly what I feel of KVN's music. There is music that stimulates your brain, and then there's music that tugs at your heart. KVN's music isn't void of technical perfection or scholarship, but it does the latter so effectively that you almost don't notice the former. Recently, I came across a recording of Thaye Yashoda in Thodi (my obsessions with Thodi are fairly well documented on the internet and otherwise). Unlike my usual favourites - meditative aalapanas that go on for ever (like M.D.Ramanathan's Sahaana raagam), this one is just three-minutes long. Yet, it left me soul-searching for the rest of the day. There is something divine about his music, a divinity matched by few.

Harry Line
The Third Man is quickly becoming one of my favourite films of all time - the character of Harry Lime, and that scene on the Ferris Wheel contributing in no small measure to this. In no other movie, have I come across a character as exciting has Harry Lime - a dead black-marketeer, a killer, maybe, a mas murderer, who is the best friend of an alcoholic pulp Western writer, loved madly by a beautiful woman client. Above all, what makes him all the more enduring is the fact that you know so little about him. Different people say different things about who he was, and what he was like. At the end of an hour, when he appears, first his shoes, then his silhouette, and then the light revealing a handsome Orson Welles with that smirk on his face, you're completely bought over. He's on screen for hardly ten minutes, yet, the movie belongs to him, and him alone.

I mean, when a character says,

"Victims? Don't be melodramatic. Look down there. Tell me. Would you really feel any pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever? If I offered you twenty thousand pounds for every dot that stopped, would you really, old man, tell me to keep my money, or would you calculate how many dots you could afford to spare? Free of income tax, old man. Free of income tax - the only way you can save money nowadays."

Or when he makes that speech [video],

"Like the fella says, in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. So long Holly."

You can't help but wish they wrote a part like that for you! Or, you listen to what the Brain (from Pinky and the Brain) has to say on the same issue (in an episode called The Third Mouse),

"In Italy under the Borgias they had 30 years of murder, bloodshed, warfare and produced indigestible pasta, boring operas, and the Fiat. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The Swiss bank account, the best cheese in the world, and Heidi."

So, if you haven't watched The Third Man, watch it. When 'The End' appears, stare at the screen in awe, and watch it again.

Tag Hueueuer!

As Ludwig, who is the Tagger puts it, "In one stone, two mangoes!"
Two tags.

Offspinner Tag (Explanation for joke follows. Keep reading.)

Zarra complicated, it is. Listen carefully.

1. Pick up the nearest book.

Hmmm. There are two books on this table. Compositions of Mudduswami Dikshitar by Dr. T.K. Govinda Rao and The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga. Hmmm. After much thought, (taking into consideration factors of complications of Devanagari script on blog) I have decided that the 'nearest' book is The White Tiger. Read it, I say. Great fun, it is. It is. It really is.

2. Open to page 123.
Opened.

3. Find the fifth sentence.
Found.

4. Post the next three sentences.
'Ha! Don't lie to me, sister-fucker. I know you're completely lost here.'

5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.
As mentioned earlier, Ludwig tagged the world, and the world includes me. I, in turn, tag the world. I tag Whoever wants to be tagged. In other words, I Tag Hueueuer!


The Doosra (Now you get the joke? Huh? Huh?)

Again, complicated. Why don't they have 'Tell us about the 5 times you peed in your pants' anymore?

The following is a list of books, "most of them sitting unread in people's bookshelves to make them look smarter". The rules are: bold the ones that you have read, underline the ones you have read in school, italicize the ones you have started but didn't finish.

Um, we never read any books in school. We got five marks for writing our address without spelling mistakes!

1. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
2. Anna Karenina
3. Crime and Punishment
4. Catch-22
5. One Hundred Years of Solitude
6. Wuthering Heights
7. The Silmarillion
8. Life of Pi: a novel
9. The Name of the Rose
10. Don Quixote
11. Moby Dick
12. Ulysses
13. Madame Bovary
14. The Odyssey
15. Pride and Prejudice
16. Jane Eyre (Related to Jagannath Iyer?)
17. The Tale of Two Cities
18. The Brothers Karamazov
19. Guns, Germs and Steel
20. War and Peace
21. Vanity Fair
22. The Time Traveler's Wife
23. The Iliad
24. Emma
25. The Blind Assasin
26. The Kite Runner
27. Mrs. Dalloway
28. Great Expectations
29. American Gods
30. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
31. Atlas Shrugged
32. Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books
33. Memoirs of a Geisha
34. Middlesex
35. Quicksilver
36. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
37. The Canterbury Tales
38. The Historian: A Novel
39. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
40. Love in the Time of Cholera
41. Brave New World
42. The Fountainhead
43. Foucault's Pendulum
44. Middlemarch
45. Frankenstein
46. The Count of Monte Cristo
47. Dracula
48. A Clockwork Orange
49. Anansi Boys
50. The Once and Future King
51. The Grapes of Wrath
52. The Poisonwood Bible
53. 1984
54. Angels and Demons
55. Inferno
56. The Satanic Verses
57. Sense and Sensibility (!)
58. The Picture of Dorian Gray
59. Mansfield Park
60. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
61. To the Lighthouse
62. Tess of the D'Urbervilles
63. Oliver Twist
64. Gulliver's Travels
65. Les Miserables
66. The Correction
67. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
68. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
69. Dune
70. The Prince
71. The Sound and the Fury
72. Angela's Ashes: A Memoir
73. The God of Small Things
74. A People's History of the United States: 1492-present
75. Cryptonomicon
76. Neverwhere
77. A Confederacy of Dunces
78. A Short History of Nearly Everything
79. Dubliners
80. The Unbearable Lightness of Being
81. Beloved
82. Slaughter House- five
83. The Scarlett Letter
84. Eats, Shoots and Leaves
85. The Mists of Avalon
86. Oryx and Crake
87. Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
88. Cloud Atlas
89. The Confusion
90. Lolita
91. Persuasion
92. Northanger Abbey
93. The Catcher in the Rye
94. On the Road
95. The Hunchback of Notre Dame
96. Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
97. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Enquiry into Values
98. The Aeneid
99. Watership Down
100. Gravity's Rainbow
101. The Hobbit
102. In Cold Blood: A True Account of a Multiple Murder and its Consequences
103. White Teeth
104. Treasure Island
105. David Copperfield
106. The Three Musketeers

Man, there's an awful lot on that list that I've never even heard of! And I always thought that a list of books "sitting unread in people's bookshelves to make them look smarter" would contain some arbit poetry nonsense also!

As earlier, Ludwig tagged the world, and the world includes me. I, in turn, tag the world. I tag Whoever wants to be tagged. In other words, I Tag Hueueuer! (I'd specifically like to know missquoted's list - because she claims to have finished every book she's ever started, but rest of the world is equally Tagged. Taggered. Taggerered.)