In the late 1970s, as my future laid bare before me, I found no time in anything but my books. I looked at watching movies as three hours of wasted time that could otherwise be spent on something more worthwhile, so I thought. At that age, everything was either black or white, factual and goal orientated. Watching the then Tamil movie which showcased hirsute stars in unkempt hair and their un-touched up face narrating mind-stupefying cheesy village stories was a turn-off. Its songs, despite be blared incessantly by my neighbours on their music devices, were just white noise. Actually, it was an annoyance, as something I had to run away from to find solace at the quiet corner of the cemetery or empty classroom in the school to jam-pack precious information into my grey cells. That was the time when SP Bala and Illayaraja were churning out hits after hit that just passed me by. Occasionally a song or two would come to my attention clamouring from my father rickety radio. I did...
It is all Mimesis