Statutory Warning: It’s been a hell of a long time since I blogged, and now that I’m blogging this now, people would generally expect something earth-shattering, well, at least, close to it. Let me honestly assure you that the reason I’m blogging now after all this while is, (rather sheepishly), rather are, two women. And yes, it’s nothing extraordinary, another ordinary guy expressing another ordinary emotion, and that’s how I’d like it to be viewed (another of my misconstrued attempts at ordinariness :P). And all those of you who had thought they could no longer spit at me, you will be shocked at how you could have thought wrong.
PS: Now, I’m attempting smart-assness, now you can’t blame me for reading this one.
It was destined to happen sooner or later. Like the stock market boom. Like its crash. Like Australia’s defeat at Perth (Damn, this should have come first!). Like Chicago weather. Like very brilliant’s fickle-mindedness. And yet, I would not admit it has happened, wouldn’t want to, don’t want to.
Trish (my chellam, I wonder if I should use ‘erstwhile’) has been not-so-pleasing these past few months. The last few months have been pretty rocky. I reached an all-time swoon-level after watching her in Kireedam. The flowing half-sari’s, the elegant churidhars, that reticent smile, that enchanting mannerism, she was as good as she could be, and as good as I could expect from her, possibly. It was not physical attraction, I knew. It has not been, I believe. Knowing me, she’s well, I hate to admit it, not exactly the kind of girl I would, well, hmm, prefer. I admit she takes a few drinks, I think she has smoked, and well, I really adore her for most part of her movies, except when she tries to appear skimpy, or have Vikram or Simbhu grope all over her (sad). And her fav. food is chicken curry. And she doesn’t exactly appear religious, by any far stretch of imagination. That’s all.
And despite these few characteristics, I have adored her all this while. Well of course, I didn’t mention her supposed arrogant attitude. Nor the likelihood that she barely knows of my existence. But it started with this crappy hairstyle of hers for “Abhiyum Naanum”. Just when I was expecting her to thirundhify and tone down, she does not. Oh yes, and that infamous skirt at the launch of VLCC :( . But this hairstyle of hers sucks. Seriously. I cant believe she likes it, I mean, it was bad enough that she could like herself when she looks at herself in all those crappy modern outfits, sometimes exposing, when she can look so ultimate and gorgeous in movies like Kireedam, Something Something, Mounam Pesiyadhe, Saamy (well, her covered part of the movie, in sarees). It seriously appears to me to be a no-brainer as to why she would want to look like how she does when she can and has appeared how she has. And now this pathetic hairstyle! But somehow, seriously, I’ve run out of defences. Like, I’m not sure I’m hundred percent convinced when I defend her. She’s been my chellam alright, but still you know, you need to have conviction. And well, though she looks great in Bheema, it isn’t exactly a conservative role, especially the songs. Nevertheless, I would’ve lived on with my chellam.
If I hadn’t seen Kalloori.
Before leaving for here, I got this email forward about an absolutely stunning beauty in a gorgeous red-and-blue ghaghra choli, saying she was a bar-girl in Mumbai, who acted as something like an intermediary between bookies and Indian Cricketers!
Now, I’d normally ponder on such an accusation. But one look at her, and absolutely any questions about anything were totally erased. And to me, then, she was the most beautiful woman I had seen. Well, obviously not considering that clichéd stuff about mothers, paatti-ma, and similar opinions. What a face! And to compliment that absolute stunner of a face, was the brilliant red-and-blue ghaghra choli.
And then, she was lost for no specific reason. And once here, I noticed her in a crappy movie called “Kedi” with that bugger of a guy Ravi Krishna, and though she was cute, she wasn’t particularly striking to me, possibly because of her clothes (something I was to realize later).
And then, one of my friends suggested “Kalloori” as a really good watch, and I don’t think I knew her to be part of the star-cast. But, at the end of the movie, I was well and truly floored. She grew on me scene by scene. Ever since the first few scenes when she was rather morose, but pleading to the eyes with her innocence in those chudidhars, I just couldn’t ignore her. And as the movie rolled on, and in all those downright simple churidhars, and with a plethora of different emotions, she was shocking me. And the fact that she played a Tamil Iyengar girl in the movie too, had its share of usupethification. Such innocence on such a cute face is just unacceptable! I understood. It was not a simply good looking face. It was not (and never has been, rather unboyishly) a ‘sexy figure’. It was a face communicating with me. It was a face that swore innocence all the way. A smile, a chuckle, a laugh, a tear, a thought, replete with different expressions of innocence.
Why, oh why am I so flattered by innocence? Well, I don’t know exactly, and have no specific answer. But among the many different answers, I am sure, lies the fact that innocence is a virtue totally absent, and it isn’t related to gender. And me being a boy, after all, would have to retain some of those characteristics that hold relevance to boys. And this combination of looks with innocence beat me. And as I type these words, those mellifluous beats of “En anbe en anbe” from Mounam Pesiyadhe play on my Media Player, ringing ever so gently in my headset, in the silence of the night. And I remember now, one of the predominant causes for that 7-year relationship with a stranger. That innocence that Trisha had in Mounam Pesiyadhe. That not-so-good-looking-face with a beautiful smile in simple, elegant churidhars, topped with innocence. And that is what has tempted me, now, to compare Trisha with Tamanna.
And boy, I cant believe Tamanna is so stunning! And yes, recently, I was very overcome by Deepika Padukone’s beauty, yes, sheer beauty, but none that really moved me. By no means was beautiful Deepika Padukone heart-wrenching. Not in the least. Analysing a very specific detail of human appearance, Tamanna does not have as dazzling a smile as Trish. Trish’s smile is easily swoon-worthy, with a touch of impishness, a beautiful array of teeth, revealed to a perfect extent. Tamanna’s smile, on the other hand, is far from dazzling. In “Kalloori”, especially, her smile was, at times, too simple, downright poor, in the sense, I was reminded of the phrase “ஏழையின சிரிப்பில்”, and the smile itself, was reminiscent of someone rather pitiable, yet, putting a brave effort and smiling, a weak smile, may be. And yet, that weak smile on such a dazzling face sprinkled with unbelievable innocence wrenched my heart, in complete totality.
And I would do grave injustice to her and the Indian woman, if I failed to mention the really elaborate value-addition rendered by that small round “பொட்டு” on her face. My oh my. I don’t think I‘ve drooled so much in such a short time for such a long duration over someone, from what living memory I can remember. My drools over Trish were, mostly, limited to short bursts, except when watching her movies, and even during those, she would undoubtedly give me reasons to retch in disgust – either a perverted little conspicuous-yet-unprovocative lip-kiss, or the hero swarming a combination of his hands and mouth over every exterior part of her body, or a definitely provocative mini, to name a few.
Not Tamanna, not in Kalloori. Well obviously, I have no claims to make, of her decency or purity. But the chastity of her face - simple, elegant, striking, radiant, heart-wrenching, and innocence of her looks, cannot, for now, make me drool over or emote so much, for anybody else, I know. And I know this too, that I'm probably not going to be in awe of her for even 1/10th of the time I was, of Trish. And I also know, almost surely, that I definitely dont like her looks when she appears glamorous. But, nobody can take away her purity of appearance in Kalloori. And nobody can give it to me except her.
Tamannaaahhhh….
PS: Now, I’m attempting smart-assness, now you can’t blame me for reading this one.
It was destined to happen sooner or later. Like the stock market boom. Like its crash. Like Australia’s defeat at Perth (Damn, this should have come first!). Like Chicago weather. Like very brilliant’s fickle-mindedness. And yet, I would not admit it has happened, wouldn’t want to, don’t want to.
Trish (my chellam, I wonder if I should use ‘erstwhile’) has been not-so-pleasing these past few months. The last few months have been pretty rocky. I reached an all-time swoon-level after watching her in Kireedam. The flowing half-sari’s, the elegant churidhars, that reticent smile, that enchanting mannerism, she was as good as she could be, and as good as I could expect from her, possibly. It was not physical attraction, I knew. It has not been, I believe. Knowing me, she’s well, I hate to admit it, not exactly the kind of girl I would, well, hmm, prefer. I admit she takes a few drinks, I think she has smoked, and well, I really adore her for most part of her movies, except when she tries to appear skimpy, or have Vikram or Simbhu grope all over her (sad). And her fav. food is chicken curry. And she doesn’t exactly appear religious, by any far stretch of imagination. That’s all.
And despite these few characteristics, I have adored her all this while. Well of course, I didn’t mention her supposed arrogant attitude. Nor the likelihood that she barely knows of my existence. But it started with this crappy hairstyle of hers for “Abhiyum Naanum”. Just when I was expecting her to thirundhify and tone down, she does not. Oh yes, and that infamous skirt at the launch of VLCC :( . But this hairstyle of hers sucks. Seriously. I cant believe she likes it, I mean, it was bad enough that she could like herself when she looks at herself in all those crappy modern outfits, sometimes exposing, when she can look so ultimate and gorgeous in movies like Kireedam, Something Something, Mounam Pesiyadhe, Saamy (well, her covered part of the movie, in sarees). It seriously appears to me to be a no-brainer as to why she would want to look like how she does when she can and has appeared how she has. And now this pathetic hairstyle! But somehow, seriously, I’ve run out of defences. Like, I’m not sure I’m hundred percent convinced when I defend her. She’s been my chellam alright, but still you know, you need to have conviction. And well, though she looks great in Bheema, it isn’t exactly a conservative role, especially the songs. Nevertheless, I would’ve lived on with my chellam.
If I hadn’t seen Kalloori.
Before leaving for here, I got this email forward about an absolutely stunning beauty in a gorgeous red-and-blue ghaghra choli, saying she was a bar-girl in Mumbai, who acted as something like an intermediary between bookies and Indian Cricketers!
Now, I’d normally ponder on such an accusation. But one look at her, and absolutely any questions about anything were totally erased. And to me, then, she was the most beautiful woman I had seen. Well, obviously not considering that clichéd stuff about mothers, paatti-ma, and similar opinions. What a face! And to compliment that absolute stunner of a face, was the brilliant red-and-blue ghaghra choli.
And then, she was lost for no specific reason. And once here, I noticed her in a crappy movie called “Kedi” with that bugger of a guy Ravi Krishna, and though she was cute, she wasn’t particularly striking to me, possibly because of her clothes (something I was to realize later).
And then, one of my friends suggested “Kalloori” as a really good watch, and I don’t think I knew her to be part of the star-cast. But, at the end of the movie, I was well and truly floored. She grew on me scene by scene. Ever since the first few scenes when she was rather morose, but pleading to the eyes with her innocence in those chudidhars, I just couldn’t ignore her. And as the movie rolled on, and in all those downright simple churidhars, and with a plethora of different emotions, she was shocking me. And the fact that she played a Tamil Iyengar girl in the movie too, had its share of usupethification. Such innocence on such a cute face is just unacceptable! I understood. It was not a simply good looking face. It was not (and never has been, rather unboyishly) a ‘sexy figure’. It was a face communicating with me. It was a face that swore innocence all the way. A smile, a chuckle, a laugh, a tear, a thought, replete with different expressions of innocence.
Why, oh why am I so flattered by innocence? Well, I don’t know exactly, and have no specific answer. But among the many different answers, I am sure, lies the fact that innocence is a virtue totally absent, and it isn’t related to gender. And me being a boy, after all, would have to retain some of those characteristics that hold relevance to boys. And this combination of looks with innocence beat me. And as I type these words, those mellifluous beats of “En anbe en anbe” from Mounam Pesiyadhe play on my Media Player, ringing ever so gently in my headset, in the silence of the night. And I remember now, one of the predominant causes for that 7-year relationship with a stranger. That innocence that Trisha had in Mounam Pesiyadhe. That not-so-good-looking-face with a beautiful smile in simple, elegant churidhars, topped with innocence. And that is what has tempted me, now, to compare Trisha with Tamanna.
And boy, I cant believe Tamanna is so stunning! And yes, recently, I was very overcome by Deepika Padukone’s beauty, yes, sheer beauty, but none that really moved me. By no means was beautiful Deepika Padukone heart-wrenching. Not in the least. Analysing a very specific detail of human appearance, Tamanna does not have as dazzling a smile as Trish. Trish’s smile is easily swoon-worthy, with a touch of impishness, a beautiful array of teeth, revealed to a perfect extent. Tamanna’s smile, on the other hand, is far from dazzling. In “Kalloori”, especially, her smile was, at times, too simple, downright poor, in the sense, I was reminded of the phrase “ஏழையின சிரிப்பில்”, and the smile itself, was reminiscent of someone rather pitiable, yet, putting a brave effort and smiling, a weak smile, may be. And yet, that weak smile on such a dazzling face sprinkled with unbelievable innocence wrenched my heart, in complete totality.
And I would do grave injustice to her and the Indian woman, if I failed to mention the really elaborate value-addition rendered by that small round “பொட்டு” on her face. My oh my. I don’t think I‘ve drooled so much in such a short time for such a long duration over someone, from what living memory I can remember. My drools over Trish were, mostly, limited to short bursts, except when watching her movies, and even during those, she would undoubtedly give me reasons to retch in disgust – either a perverted little conspicuous-yet-unprovocative lip-kiss, or the hero swarming a combination of his hands and mouth over every exterior part of her body, or a definitely provocative mini, to name a few.
Not Tamanna, not in Kalloori. Well obviously, I have no claims to make, of her decency or purity. But the chastity of her face - simple, elegant, striking, radiant, heart-wrenching, and innocence of her looks, cannot, for now, make me drool over or emote so much, for anybody else, I know. And I know this too, that I'm probably not going to be in awe of her for even 1/10th of the time I was, of Trish. And I also know, almost surely, that I definitely dont like her looks when she appears glamorous. But, nobody can take away her purity of appearance in Kalloori. And nobody can give it to me except her.
Tamannaaahhhh….
