F.R.A.N.C.E.

Still rocking after these years!

I remember that the last week of the school year used to be a sentimental one. With the year-end exams over, teachers would be busy tallying the results and collecting loaned textbooks. 

We saw it as the best times of our schooling years. Classes would be left unmonitored. No teaching would be taking place, as the syllabus would have been completed by then. Some students would bring in their guitars and songbooks to strum popular tunes then. 

Some would be busy writing poems and filling up their autograph books. Offhand, I remember cheesy limmericks being mentioned.  

'Drink hot coffee, 
Drink hot tea, 
Burn your lips and remember me!'

Then there is another, a song actually.

'Roses are red, 
violets are blue, 
sugar is sweet, 
and so are you.'

In the midst of all that, a common phrase is often used by those sentimental at heart, which
was the abbreviation F.R.A.N.C.E. It meant 'Friendship Remain And Never Can End'. It can be described as superfluous and meaningless, but it meant a lot then.

Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to attend my wife's schoolmate's daughter's wedding reception. One moment that plucked the sentimental strings of my heart was on stage, a group of about ten, singing songs of the bygone era. Apparently, they all had one passion: singing. They used to meet periodically when they returned to their hometown and sing along at karaoke. It was heart-melting to see them crooning to the evergreen tune of Teresa Teng's 'The Moon Represents My Heart'. Forty years of friendship still going strong after the challenges of life and the ups and downs that the voyage of life has taken them. One song is enough to evoke forty years of memory.

These types of moments are epic.

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The Eternal Sleep of Kumbhakarna

https://borderlessjournal.com/2024/11/14/the-eternal-sleep-of-kumbhakarna/

I reported to Kuala Pilah District Hospital on 11th August 1989. Just having passed out from medical school a year earlier, followed by a year of housemanship training, I was rearing to go. Like Dr. David Livingstone, who explored the interior of Africa to treat the needy (and convert them), I thought I would change the world.

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A time when stalking was normal...

'96 (Tamil,  2018)

Director: C. Prem Kumar

I remember a time in the 1980s when many Tamil movies had a particular storyline. A boy would fancy a girl, but circumstances would not allow them to fall in love. Most of the time, it would be because of different social and economic statuses, or they could be from feuding families, akin to Romeo and Juliet's story.

The Family would come to know. They would put up blockades, but against all odds, the boy would persist. He would look at his beau from afar, her every move, and she would fall flat for him. She thinks he loves her so much that he finds nothing more worthwhile in life than looking at her 24/7 like a lunatic. In most modern societies, that is called stalking.

In 1983, it was perfectly normal for Sting to watch his gal's every breath and every move. In the 2000s, however, that would warrant a police report and a restraining order.

Somehow, in this 2018 Tamil nostalgic movie, the girl regrets that she missed all the stalkings. She would have married him if only she knew he was there in every important moment of her life, spying on her. How bizarre. I do not think it would work on any millennial or Gen Z anywhere in the world. 

Ram, a travel photographer, takes his students on a field trip. After finishing the trip, he makes an unscheduled stop at the town where he used to stay until the 10th standard. He meets up with the school guard, the same person who used to work 22 years previously. Ram gets the contact of one of his classmates and gets himself included in a private WhatsApp chatgroup. That leads to a reunion.

Everyone is happily married with kids except for Ram. He leads life with a dark cloud shadowing over him. He had soft spots for his classmate, Janu, in 10th Standard. Family financial problems caused Ram's family to move suddenly in the dark of night without bidding her farewell. The crux of the story is about the Ram-Janu love story and to continue from where they left off. The problem is that Janu is also married with a preteen child.

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You left a trail…

Meiyazhagan (மெய்யழகன், Tamil; 2024)
Written & Directed by: C Prem Kumar

How often have you been caught in a situation where someone catches you at a party and goes on a rant? They seem to know everything about you. They would tell you about your parents and obscure personal details of your childhood. The trouble is that you don't know him from Adam. You would not have the slightest clue who he is but too embarrassed to ask him. You would not want to offend the other person and appear haughty. More so when you return to your hometown, doing better than where you came from whilst the other person is still stuck in your hometown. 

You slowly try to pick a cue from his sentences. You try to look deep into his eyes, perhaps to pick up any identifying features. Negative. You try politely asking people behind his back, but it proves difficult as everyone assumes both seem engaged in a conversation so deep that we are blood brothers. 

You become desperate as the other person sticks on to you like a leech that does not drop off. You reach the point of no return when he says he worshipped you and owes it to you for being such a motivating icon in his life. You give up when he says he owes everything to you and insists on having a meal with you.

The protagonist, Arul, feels this as he returns to an estranged family wedding near his ancestral home. Twenty-two years previously, Arul's family had to leave the ancestral home after a family feud. Arul, a teenager when all this was going on, remembers it as a painful event in his life. So, returning to meet the same people engaged in the showdown was cumbersome for Arul.

He planned to make a lightning trip there, bless the newlyweds, and return on the last bus back to Chennai. All that came to nought when Arul bumped into this chatty, nameless chap who would not go away.

Arul simply could not place him anywhere in his life, but according to the chap, they spent a momentous summer in 1994. He clings on and on, refusing to leave his sight. Things become more problematic when Arul misses the last bus out and has to stay the night there. With no acceptable lodgings available, left to Hobson's choice, he takes the chap's generous offer to stay at his abode. Even his wife knows Arul well. He is mesmerised by the hospitality. After a few drinks, things become emotional, and the chap confesses that he would name his soon-to-be-born child with Arul's gender-neutral name, Arulmozhi.

Arul feels ashamed and leaves the chap's home without telling him. As in all 'feel good' Indian movies, resolution comes via a phone call and long-deserved confession. 

It's an engaging movie minus all the masalas associated with Kollywood. As expected from a film produced by Sivakumar's family, devoted to developing Tamil and Tamilness, the film is smattered with iconography closely related to Tamil culture and Dravidian politics. 

From the word go, the opening credits are written in Tamil only. Then, the viewers see Jallikattu and an Indian Kongu bull dragged into a story that is more about human relationships than the importance of the continuation of Jallikattu. Then, the framed photo of EV Ramasamy appears now and then. The spoken dialogue is recommendable for it avoids corruption with Madras basha. Tamil is relatively pristine. Tamil pride can be felt when the characters talk about their ancestors fighting for the Cholas, the plight of Sri Lankan Tamils in their civil war and the Thootukodi massacre, where Tamil citizens got killed for standing up against an allegedly polluting copper smelting plant.

Arvind Swamy and Karthi's acting is recommendable. Their chemistry, bromance, and characterisation of their roles are excellent. It's a good movie. 4.5/5.

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The twists of life

Manorathangal (Minescapes, Malayalam; 2024)

An anthology based on stories by MT Vasudevan Nair

After the release of the Hema committee report, the murmur, which started in 2019, is heard once again. More new victims of the Malayalam film industry are voicing their bad experiences out in the open. The report results from the Government's investigations into the alleged rise of sexual misconduct, exploitation and #MeToo complaints against big players of Mollywood.

The report's contents paint badly for the safety and working environment for the fairer sex. The report paints a picture of Mollywood as run by a mafia of senior directors, producers, and male actors who call the shots and decide which actress gets chosen and who gets the boot. To make it to the cast, the new actresses would have to endure much humiliation, denigration, and assault. The report prompted many Malayalam Movie Association chief members to resign to clear their names.

On one hand, civil societies assert that India is still not a safe place for ladies to work. This becomes more relevant now after the gruesome rape and murder of the Calcutta on-call doctor. Others are quick to add all these are not specific to Kerala or India alone. Patriarchy and power play are spread worldwide. Sudden retaliation by the public is politically motivated, ignited by self-interested parties out to create mayhem in India. Now that Malayalam movies are becoming more popular than other regional productions, people are bound to be jealous.

This collection of stories was written by Kerala's most influential storyteller, MT Vasudevan Nair. Most of the narration talks about nostalgia and how the test of time changes one's perception of reality. The picture of truth fed to us as children is a smokescreen. Time and tide change everything; hence, it is no use being haughty about what we have or being frustrated with things we do not.

The nine snippets in this collection are acted by many brilliant who's who in Malayalam cinema—Mohanlal, Mammooty, Siddique, Fahad Fazil, and more. This offering also sees the return of two famous actresses, Madhu and Nadia, after a hiatus. It talks about loneliness in a foreign country, loneliness in marriage, secret lives that adults have, love in the countryside, the hassle of having a family heirloom and how the family members vulture over it, how our values change with time and education and many more.  

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Life with its ups and downs!

The Boy and the Heron (2023)
Director and Written: Hayao Miyazaki

I did not know much about this director until recently, but he has been a cult figure among those who enjoy Japanese cartoons. No, his brand of cartoons does not fall under manga, anime, or adult cartoons; instead, it carries a rather philosophical message. In fact, this particular offering is a semi-autobiographical one that the filmmaker made ten years after his retirement. In keeping with the coming-of-age era, the story is set in late 1930s Japan when the country is steeped knee-deep in the Pacific War. 

It starts with Mahito, a young boy who gets up from sleep to find his mother trapped in a great fire. His mother subsequently succumbs to the fire. His father remarries his wife's sister, whom Mahito finds challenging to connect with.

Mahito moves to a new town to live with his pregnant stepmother. As Japan prepares for war, we see Mahita finding it challenging to fit into his new school and accept his new mum. A grey heron keeps hounding him. Mahito soon discovers a mysterious tower and a secret hidden beneath it.

Mahito soon enters a dream-like state into a bizarre new world, where he meets his deceased mother and maternal grandfather. His grandfather had an ambitious plan to create a utopia, and Mahito is the selected successor to continue the plan. 

One cannot help but think that many scenes give the sense of déjà vu. There are scenes reminiscent of 'Alice in Wonderland'. I swear that one reminded me of Snow White in a glass casket. And not to forget the 1970s favourite Japanese cartoon, Marco - From the Apennines to the Andes, where Marco goes in search of his mother from port to port from Japan to Argentina.

The take-home message in this film is that life has its ups and downs, losses, and heartaches. We should not change anything in it but accept all the sadness and happiness in stride.

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For bringing the horse to water!

A lady, visibly struggling with her gravid tummy, was heard conversing with a fellow attendee at a maternity clinic. Excerpts from her conversing, which were anything but discrete, were soon made known to others. She was complaining about how she still had to go to school carrying a pair of twins in utero with just less than one month from her due date. This year alone, five teachers had gone on maternity leave, leaving a large vacuum for others to fill up. 

It does not help that her school had 80% of the teachers as ladies and that recently, maternity leaves had been extended from 60 days a few years previously to 98 days now. 

"I am just wasting my time teaching children who are not interested in learning, anyway," she was lamenting. 

Thanks, Mr Khoo!

I remember when a teacher motivated me to push my boundaries beyond my imagination, reaching for the unthinkable. I was just an average student trying to sponge whatever little knowledge my teachers were trying to impart. One thing I never did throughout my schooling life was to fail a test. Be it a public examination or a quiz, I may not excel, but I definitely will not falter. I did fail my motorbike licence test, though. I wanted to save the money spent on riding school but used my old bone shaker instead.

So, I was devastated when the monthly test result for physics was out. I found that I had scored 16%. I stared at big red-inked scribblings on the test paper with disbelief. I should not be surprised as the questions were based on the exact topics my Physics teacher had assured us we would not be drilled. Still, heartbreaking it sure was. 

Pensive mood, are we?

The subsequent examination would be the mid-term test, which would have some bearing on the school testimonials. This cannot be, I told myself. I had to pull myself with my own bootstraps. Frankly, I found it extremely difficult to understand what my Physics master was trying to teach. I felt we were in different lingos, like how a dog and a cat or a hen would talk to a duck. Sometimes, I thought he was the manifestation of an oracle of Delphi. He managed to create a sense of mysticism around the subject matter. At the end of the lesson, we, the students, will stay as ignorant as before. 

Penang Sunrise

The falter at the monthly test pushed me to learn everything covered in the syllabus. I burned the midnight oil in all barrels, leaving no stones unturned. So when the midterm examinations were out, not only did I come out with flying colours, but as the top scorer of the form, I went on to win a book prize. 

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought of winning an academic award like that. If not for the direct or indirect prodding from my Physics teacher, Mr Khoo, I would have just been another student who passed through the school corridors, leaving nothing behind. Now, I have at least tasted the sweet, succulent taste of victory and personal satisfaction. 'Ain't no mountain high enough!' is no longer just a passing statement or a line in a song.

The recent secondary school reunion was a gesture to show our appreciation to our grand old school teachers who still remember us or at least put up a convincing front to tell us they do. Seriously, just as they made an impression on us, we did not know how much observation they made about us and live to tell us. 

Memorial for the founder, RS Hutchings

One for the album

N.B. Thank you, Teik Hock, Sow Wu, Guan Chiang, et al for the pictures.

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