Something wrong here!

Knock Knock (2015)

Director: Eli Roth

[Remake of Death Game (1977)]

My mother told me there was no such thing as a free lunch. When something is so good, it is probably not good. 

From the movie Jurassic Park, we learnt of T-Rex's unique way of trapping its prey. With short, awkward dangling forelimbs and a bulky body but a voracious appetite for flesh, it had to devise its own way to entice potential dinner. It would send in or may in the vicinity of a benign and cuddly-looking small creature. When a more enormous creature (or human as in the movie) goes to admire the cute animal, T-Rex goes for the kill in the most brutal way. 

Someone was warned in my circle when one member was quietly admiring a pretty young thing that passed on by. He was educated that humans also use this modus operandi to entice and pounce on their prey during their selective, lustful hunts. 

After crying silently under the kingdom of masculine toxicity for so long, the fairer sex has turned the table since the inception of the rebel yell of #Metoo. Victims have turned predators most cunningly.

Woman empowerment and feminism have gone a complete 180-degree twist. Some have learned to defeat their enemies in the most passive-aggressive way. Examples of how victims use sexuality to defame the opposite gender are too innumerable to enumerate. Things have gone so topsy-turvy that one cannot identify who the aggressor or victim is anymore.

I had seen its trailer quite so often in cinemas before but got around to watching it. It must be one movie that Keanu Reeves would like to forget. He can indeed perform better than the appalling one displayed here. The plot is so flimsy and full of holes. The original film it is based on, Death Game (1977), is not much better. Both can pass off as low-budget soft porn.

A goody two-shoes husband and father of two is home alone while the family is away. On a wet stormy night, two free-spirited young ladies knock on his door, soaking wet. They had got their friend's address all mixed up and were stranded. The good Samaritan takes them in to offer blankets and dry off their clothes. Things get complicated when they become too cosy with the host, flirt with him and refuse to leave the house the following day after a night-long steamy tryst. They make themselves at home, hold him hostage and turn the home he had built upside down.

It is not that feminism has gone awry, says my other half. The male species also needs to take part of the blame. The idea of restraint and fear of retribution seems to become an alien concept day by day. Nothing is sacrosanct anymore, and nothing is shameful anymore. It is one thing to rise from the ashes and utterly different from rubbing one's face with soot and saying, "There is nothing wrong here!"

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Who / What is God?

Kadavul Irukindran

from the movie 'Ananthi Jothi' (1963)


It seems that poet Kannadasan started off as an atheist. With time, through his voracious readings and research for his songs, he claimed to be an avid practitioner of Sanathana Dharma (Eternal Duty) or Hinduism in his later years. Many of his later compositions brilliantly express the entity we assume to be God - the Force that puts order to things around us, the seen and the invisible, the heard and the silent, the felt and the void.

Here, Mahakavi Kannadasan, in a 1963 composition, tries to explore the meaning of God, which carries different visions to different people, from an external force that oversees every move to an internal mechanism so intricate that it does its own checks and balances.

You say He is not there because you cannot see Him. When you float but cannot see the air, you are hovering upon. When you close all your senses to the external stimuli, is the something you feel is God?

In the crypts of darkness of the night, you awaken. It is pitch dark, but you can make a composite picture of the person before you. There is something beyond what you see.

The melodious sound of music transcends the listeners to an elevated level. The right pluck excites the right heartstrings of life. You dictate the musical notes, but can you see the shape of the music that raises you?

Nobody knows what the other person's heart feels. We cannot read the writings in one's heart, but our gut gives a feeling about it.

Buddha may have deceased, but his guidance remains. The knowledge, the path to life, is that divine? Has truth and charity become unfashionable? After reading about how karma hits back and history repeats, should we be stressing ourselves but let nature take its course?

At a time when justice seems unattainable,  and public display of resentment seems futile, when justice is unamenable to the law and whip, let the long arm of Time shall take charge. Time would not hesitate to save the day, slowly but surely! Hence, Time must be God. Is this rhetoric to pacify a crying baby, or is it the secret of life?

This song appears in the MGR-starred 1963 movie 'Anantha Jothi' (Glorious Light) when MGR, a schoolmaster, is running from the law after being falsely accused of murder. Just as he is about to give up hope on proving his innocence, his inner consciousness reassures him there is God. His idea of God gives him the confidence to stand steadfast and persevere to clear his name and marry his beau at the end of the day. 

The nuances of the lyrics will surely carry a veiled reference to specific people close to Kanadasan, as narrated by late musician MSV. Many of his messages are cryptic. Just like the song in Paava Mannippu (1961), where a Hindu child adopted by a Muslim family and grows up as a Muslim belts out a devotional song during Prophet Mohammad's birthday. The exciting feature of the song, which was revealed much later after his death, is that every verse of the song ended with words that rhymed with the suffix 'Om'. Kannadasan was quoted to have said that one cannot take the Hinduness out of anyone born a Hindu. Subconsciously, he still thinks as a Hindu. 

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The state of a state

Kohrra (Fog, Punjabi-Hindi; 2023
Miniseries S1E1-6.

Shrouded in fog, that is how it is. It used to be the food basket of India and the provider of the country's most significant tax returns from its businesses and income earners. Punjab used to be prosperous. People of the diaspora have been instantly recognised worldwide for their resilience, entrepreneurial skills, confidence and ability to adapt and integrate. 

Sadly, the situation in their home state now is a far cry from what it used to be in its pre-independence days. The downward spiral started when a large chunk of the State was sliced away amid bloody butchering to satisfy specific political ambitions. Just as they recoiled back to health with the erection of a dam and the introduction of Green Revolution initiatives, they were the envy of many, including their poor Eastern cousins, Haryana. 

Religiosio-linguistic politics dictated that Hindi-speaking Hindu Himachal Pradesh and Haryana be cut off from the predominantly Sikh Punjabi province in a way that contributed to the tumultuous, violent sectarian politics of Akali Dal, Bindrawale and Operation Blue Star. After that, it was downhill all the way. The Punjabis missed the bus that brought various revolutions: IT, automobile manufacturing, biotechnology and retail. Haryana went places.

20th century Punjab sees an average Punjabi dying to get out of Punjab to get a green card in Canada. Hardy, hardworking Sadarjis are replaced by drug-peddling, gun-wielding gangsters who glorify female objection in their music videos. Then there is a constant external pressure to demand an independent country of Khalistan where Gurmukhi is the script, and Sikh is the national religion, which will be in harmony with their neighbour, Pakistan, so they believe. 

Interestingly, Chandigarh is the common
capital of Punjab and Haryana.

This miniseries, a compelling six-episode first season, brings the audience to the daily dealings of two small-town police officers. It paints an unsettling township where the police have too much power and too much on their plate. Police brutality is the norm, and it seems justified in wanting to mete justice to the grieving family. Opulence is the game the wealthy display to claim their societal role. Family pride takes precedence over everything else. 

Life is cheap, and people can be knocked off for a song. Truth somehow gets buried somewhere in the chaos of things, much like how the splendour of the Saraswati river and its civilisation disappeared into annal of times. 

At least, this is what I, as a non-resident of Punjab, take home after watching this miniseries. It starts with the death of a soon-to-be-married NRI groom found dead in the field with his pants down. The investigating police officer teases out in piecemeal all the undercurrents behind the death. The officer himself has a complicated back story. Losing his wife to depression, he cannot see eye to eye with his adult daughter. His daughter, married with a young child, hates her husband and has an affair. 

Meanwhile, the bride to the deceased groom has a morbidly clingy musician boyfriend who tries everything to regain his beau. But the boyfriend also has a side chick. The dead groom's boyfriend, who came from the UK, is also missing. Now, where is he?

With everyone breathing down his neck, the grieving groom's family, the anxious UK mother, and the aggressive groom's father handling his family issues and pressure from his superiors, sub-inspector Balbir Singh has to tie all the loose knots and close the case. Forgot to mention that Balbir Singh also fancies the widow of a former informant whom he killed!

With such a bizarre storyline, there is no guessing what will happen next. It all makes sense in the end, like most things in life. Nothing is really so straightforward. Nothing is black or white.

P/S. It would appear on the surface that emigration improves one's standard of living to emulate the citizens of their host, to grow and be part of the nation. Wrong! It is true what the migrants want is a peaceful existence, the ability to prove one's purpose of existence, to impart wisdom to the next generation and a final seamless transition to the Otherside with the least morbidity. The host country believes it can assist with resources; in return, the arrivals should blend into the system. Integration, the newcomers will not do for they are convinced their hosts are inferior for the arrivals brought in with them the real civilisation, which is superior and time tested. This is evident in this miniseries. Despite being an NRI, whom one would perceive to have progressive thoughts in sync with the Western world, here the father is showing none of those. Even though he left his home country because it was not good enough to nurture his family, he still brings his old ancient belief systems. 

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Remember 'Madu Tiga'?

The Other Woman (2014)
Director: Nick Cassavetes

One cannot help but compare this movie to 'Madu Tiga' (1964), one of P. Ramlee's classics. Both are comedies and hover on the topic of polyamory. The crux of the story is how the aggrieved parties learn about each other's existence. They meet up and go full-throttle to avenge the philandering Romeo. The climax is seeing Romeo fall flat on his face, down and out. Sweet revenge is having Romeo squirm in helplessness.

Unfortunately, the comparison ends there. This film is a perfect example of how big names (of directors and stars) mean nothing if the story is not fresh and the plot has many holes. No amount of flashy displays of flesh and senseless giggling labelled female bonding will change viewers' perception of what entertainment is. Even a mighty name like Nick Cassavetes for the director, who carries the aura of his famous director father, John Cassavetes, can save the day. 

The two 'Other Women' conspire with Wifey.

In this 2014 movie, a successful lawyer thinks she has found a perfect match after all these years, worried much about her ticking biological clock. The lawyer decides to surprise her lover at his home only to find another lady, identifying as his wife, answering the door. It becomes more complicated as a third woman, a model, is also around seen spreading her love. All three scorned ladies cook a perfect plan to outsmart Romeo. Meanwhile, Romeo has his own agenda up his sleeves. 

Can give it a skip, but it helps viewers appreciate the richness and unforgettable experience of watching P. Ramlee's 'Madu Tiga'. Despite being made in black-and-white and dated, its still shots stay much longer in our imagination than this forgettable Hollywood cheap flick.

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Only so much we can blame our genes!

Bones and All
Director : Luca Guadagnino

There is only so much we can blame our parents for our miseries. Our parents give us building blocks to start life with. That foundation sets us the footing to let us grow. We acquire some favourable traits and some not-so-pleasant ones. We do not say much when things go our way. The moment something goes against our way, we jump at our parents for transmitting that offensive gene as if they were in control of what chromosome gets transmitted and what does not. Like an old friend once told me, we must take their diseases and other chromosome-related unfavourable traits just like how we willingly accept their wealth in their will.

This bizarre romantic horror film is about an 18-year-old girl, Maren, who has to move schools and towns as she tends to eat human flesh whenever she feels love. She grows up with her single father. After her last fiasco at a sleepover party, her father had enough. He leaves her money, birth certificate, and background information about herself and bolts off. Maren goes on a road trip for self-discovery.

Maren discovers that she is adopted. She embarks on a self-discovery journey to confront her mother about her abandonment. On her journey, she encounters many people with the same cannibalistic tendencies. She finally finds her biological mother is a dangerous inmate cooped in a mental asylum.

It is a twisted tale of discovery, camaraderie and performing tasks with love, not just a chore to complete.

At the end of the day, there is only so much we can blame our heritage, genetics and upbringing. Once we reach an age of cognisance, we should be empowered to hold the bull by the horns to steer it in the desired direction. Unable to do so, at least we should adapt our bodies to protect ourselves so as not to be taken for a ride and thrown off balance. That is what we call a balancing act.

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A lotus by any other name...

There I was, minding myself performing my daytime duties, when someone approached me.

"Excuse me, where can I meet Mr Rajeev?" 

I scratched my head thinking, "Rajeev, Rajeev…?" 

"Sorry buddy, can't help you there. Don't know any Rajeev." 

Then it hit me. Of course, Majid. Before Majid was Majid, in another life, he was known as Rajeev. 

"Oh yes. I remember now. Ranjeev is on the 1st floor. He is now Majid." I told him. 

Then I left the place thinking… 

A name is for the convenience of others to pick us out of the 8 million people on Earth. If Majid is comfortable with his new name, so be it. We should respect it. It, in no way, changes who Rajeev or, for that matter, Majid is. In the imagery of Avicenna's flying man, he is who he is. 

A new name does not exclude the follies of the previous past, just as Pakistan came to discover. Wanting to carve itself out of the perceived vagaries of its motherland, it realised it could not disentangle itself from the shared history with ex, no matter how much it detects. 

During the Great Game era, Imperialists sliced much of Africa for personal consumption. Imagine, Cecil Rhodes even named a vast piece of land after himself, which years later became a country. Of course, descendants of the initial inhabitants of Rhodesia renamed their country Zimbabwe, after the stone enclosure they used to live, after Independence. After years of being inadvertently referenced to the poultry industry and the colloquial term of a moron, Turkey applied to have its name, or its spelling, altered. Türkiye, as it was written in its Latin script, has become the official name. As we know, Türkiye, in its zest to modernise after the fall of the sick man of Europe, the Ottoman Empire, chose a Latin script over Arabic. That explains the umlaut over its 'u'. 

Konark Sun Temple

Nobody chose to raise the alarm when Czhechia (Czech Republic,1993), Myanmar (Burma, nee Brahmadesh, 1989), Eswatini (Swaziland, 2018) and even Netherlands (Holland, 2020) changed their names. 

The World suddenly looked up when a dinner invitation card to G20 delegates read letterheaded from the President of Bharat, not India as commonly known. To the rest of the World, the name Bharat reminds them of the nationalistic RSS's desire to reinstate India to its ancient name, as mentioned in the old scriptures. To the nationalists, this exercise of renaming old names is a branding exercise to spur its citizens' sense of patriotism. The leftists, who missed the nostalgic days of Fabian Society card-carrying Pandit Nehru, decry the majority's dominance over the minority and the oppressed. In their minds, this move reaffirms their belief that the ruling party is ultra-nationalist, Islamophobic and Hindutva in ideology in wanting to create a Hindu Rajthra. 

A bit of context here. In Indonesian and Malay languages, the word for west is Barat. Since Bharat was a civilisational icon in those days and was situated west of the Malay archipelago, the term 'Barat' was assumed west. Article 1 of the Indian Constitution starts with 'India, that is Bharat, shall be a union of states.' It denotes that both names are interchangeable. A name is for others to use. What others decide to call us sticks with us. Back in the day, the people on the West of the Sindhu River, i.e. Persians, had a problem with the letter 'S'. It simply did not exist in their language. They would refer to the people on the other side as Hindus. This is further exemplified by how they address their God, Ahura Mazda. The people in Bharat also have Asura and Deva. Both their belief systems were not much different - fire temples in Zoroastrianism and Agni pooja in Hinduism. Asura became Ahura. 

A rose, by any other name, smells as fragrant. A lotus, irrelevant to where it grows, appears as pristine. India, or Bharat, will stay as chaotic, colourful, and opinionated as ever, with much culture and wisdom to impart to the World. With its newfound zest, it is going places, including the Moon and the Sun. The name change is merely a branding exercise to remind the World that it catching up after missing the bus that brought the World's first two Industrial Revolutions involving steam and coal, respectively.

P/S. Thanks to Aman for instigating me to write up this piece.

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Cartographic Aggression!

China's ten-dashed line map 2023.

Learned a new word today - cartographic aggression. In simple terms, it is the act of shoving a map in front of someone's face and expecting the someone to respect its boundaries. This is the age-old form of exerting geopolitical dominance, failing which the aggressor will have justification to attack and usurp the non-conformer.

Back at a time when the term Europeans and Flat-Earthers were interchangeable, early Portuguese voyagers managed to put their new discoveries on hand-drawn maps. These maps were State-guarded secrets. Everyone wanted to lay their hands on them to go another nautical mile. In 1538, Geradus Mercator, from a region around the Netherlands (a region known as low countries, which included Belgium and Luxembourg) with available information around him, put up the first world map. He mapped out Asia as separate from the Americas before the discovery of the Bering Straits.

The East India Company, after establishing their first post in Surat, the British representative presented an atlas to Emperor Jahangir. It was politely refused as the Moghul Empire was shown to be puny compared to the rest of the world. Whether it was intimidation or a gift is anyone's guess. 

As time passed, we have realised that a map is not merely a navigational tool. The British surveyors who went into the God-forsaken valleys of Afghanistan and the tundra lands of Siberia not to map the geographical terrain of the world for people to learn. They had geopolitics on their minds. Wanting to halt the Russian Empire's expansion and win in the Great Game of Imperialism, they were strategising their next military move.

Funny, Australia and Antarctica are seen here,

 even though they were discovered later.

(1606 and 1820 respectively) **

So, it is no surprise that China's 2023 Ten-Dash line map, in a single stroke, has stirred the emotions of many countries. In essence, it has staked claim over the whole of the South China Sea, usurping oil-rich islands belonging to Malaysia and Vietnam. On top of that, China had created artificial islands for military recognisance. It had successfully re-flared an old wound with Russia. By claiming a piece of 'island', Bolshoi Ussuriysky Island, which almost brought to a nuclear showdown in 1969, China shows its fangs to its sometimes ally. A dash of line over Taiwan angered the Taiwanese, too. As far as China is concerned, Taiwan is part of China anyway. ASEAN has expressed its satisfaction. The Indian Government, as if its internal squabbles are not enough, is accused of quietly losing 2000 square km of its territory to China. The last time this thing happened, they went to war.

It is one thing to draw a map but another to recognise its borders. We all remember the aftermath of Sir Cyril Radcliffe's disastrous attempt at carving Pakistan out of India. The British can draw the Durand Line to demarcate Afghanistan from Pakistan, but that does not mean the Taliban nor the Pashtuns will respect it.

A map is a geopolitical statement attempting to exert power over an area. Now, the affected party must state their objection, negotiate, resolve or go to war for it.

** P.S. Of course, discovery is Europe’s POV. The Maoris, Polynesians and Australian aborigines knew they existed in Australia before Cook came and slaughtered them. The same applies to the penguins in the South Seas. Antarctica was their playground. I heard from the grapevine that Vikings 'discovered' Antarctica in their great travel in the 1500s.

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