Playing favourites...

You know how it goes... you ask someone a question, and then they ask
you the same thing, and so on. Social flip-flopping, I like to think.

Someone said they liked movies, and I asked the fairly obvious question...
"Your favourite movies?"

"Blah blah blah..... yours?"

Here was the sticky bit. I couldn't name any. I think I've seen more
movies than most people within a 40 km radius, yet I couldn't come up
with five movies I liked the most. Why was it so difficult?

Movies have always been in my life. They hinted at a bigger world
beyond my grasp. Different people, different places... acting skills
or cinematographic prowess didn't seem to matter. As long as there was
a tale to tell, I was hooked. Every film, good or bad, was a glimpse
into the mind of another person, and I was hungry for that.

Every once in a while there would be a film that resonated with me, in
a way that had nothing to do with how good it was. They meant
something to me at that point of time in my life, which if I saw now I
would probably classify as drivel. So do I consider them my favourite
films? Or do I consider films I thought to be especially good? Most
films I found to be especially good, and works of art, meant nothing
to me personally, and were forgotten a week later. So that can't be a
favourite, right? What justifies the designation of "favourite film"?

Is it possible to play favourites?

Redrawing the Middle East

The Armed Forces Journal has this to say about redrawing the boundaries of the Middle East. American armchair ethnology. Look into it.

Nobody in their right mind could believe that redrawing International Boundaries in modern times could be anything but bloody. It does, however, reinterate just how fluid national (and individual) identities can be. The creation of National myths seeks to reinforce the collective identity, and gives citizens something to believe. For example, during the Iran-Iraq war, the Iraqi government hired actors to grant 'visions' of the Twelfth Imam to troops, boosting morale. Soldiers on both sides were Shia.

Wahhabi Islam emanating from Saudi Arabia is changing traditional muslim identities the world over. Hajjis returning to their homelands bring with them ideas and concepts from the Holy Lands, acting as 'memetic fountains'. Traditional Islam in Indonesia and Malaysia is gradually being eroded by Meccan Islam. In Pakistan and India, Sufism is being denounced as too soft and theologically shaky, and the swift adoption of Wahabism. In Kashmir, where the purdah was restricted to upper class urban muslims AND hindus, the hijab has made swift inroads.

Petro dollars will do that to you.

Addendum: Steve Pinkler of Harvard on the evolutionary psychology of religion. Gene Expression also has something to say on the matter.

The Silence of the Lambs Genes

Gene Silencers get something to shout about! RNA Silencing has won the 2006 Nobel Prize for Medicine!!

The discovery of the RNAi machinery has been revolutionary in the field of genetics, and was expected to win a Nobel soon. For an overview of the RNAi mechanism, read this post on one of my favourite blogs, Gene Expression.
For an animated tour of the RNAi mechanism, see here.
A documentary on the world of RNA silencing can be seen here.

P.S: Jyoti, if you're reading this.... TREAT TREAT!!

Activators or Stabilizers?

The Daily Transcript reports on a new study that indicates Eukaryotic transcription may occurs in bursts. Transcription factors (regulators of when a gene is "on" or "off") are often characterized as 'activators' or repressors. The paper suggests activators may instead be stabilizers. Genes are always flipping back and forth between different levels of on and off states and when transcription factors bind they can hold one state steady. When upregulation happens a gene isn't 'turned on', it is just kept on.

This paper seems to indicate that cells (at least eukaryotic cells) have varied systems to regulate transcription. Even within prokaryotic cells, the initial 'jiggly' association of RNA polymerase and the promoter seems to be stabilized by Transcription factors. Once RNAP is associated with DNA, it was very stable. Could stabilizers be 'uncoupling' the initial weak RNAP-DNA binding? Could this be related to the phenomenon of abortive transcription seen in vitro?

Osman Sagar and its predatory denizens

Decided to go for a jog/run this sunday evening, to Osman Sagar and back.
Miscalculated. There's far too much traffic on that road on weekends to jog, so I walked most of the way. I sorta expected that, but I was NOT prepared for the wierdness. People stare. It's a common enough habit in South India, so I'm used to that. But guys driving by, going " Wooo Hoooo!" was new to me. I even got a "Kya baat hai!".
Huh.

Osman Sagar's pretty in the evenings. From the Tank Bund, the sun sets over the surprisingly blue water, as you can see here ... it's the blue one on the left. (The colour in the satellite photo is probably an artifact of the angle at which it was taken, though.)


This picture was taken on another occasion.

There are signs warning about crocodiles in the water, and I'm rather psyched about seeing one. Fingers crossed.
The views are amazing. In the evening you can see the lights of Hightech city in the distance, and even ISB, home of the Elastic Retreat.

I hope the jog/run materialises into a regular thing.

Crickey!

Steve Irwin was killed today while filming an underwater documentary.

The Crocodile Hunter is sorely missed.

... sounds like more than just moral support!

Thank God the Pakistanis are doing their bit for the War on Terror!

- From a Malaysian paper

The Henry Higgins of Genetics

I'd been hearing a lot about the way a particular scientist at my Institute speaks, and as an amateur linguist, I'm always fascinated by the choices people (and groups of people) make about syntax. Sometimes the choice of syntax can reveal quite a bit about the speaker, and its always interesting to see what information can be gleaned from this. Well, I finally had the opportunity to interact with him, and the level of overlap between his scientific and casual speech was significant.

Scientists as a group tend to allow complex technical jargon to seep into conversational English. While this happens in every occupational group, scientific English has its peculiarities. Scientific English is vociferously international, and regional variations and quirks are unacceptable. The nature of peer review among scientists enforces a common syllabary, which sometimes deviates significantly from standard English. Given the stringent of the field, synonyms are rarely tolerated. The language is argument based, with no room for ambiguity. Analogies and comparisons are the bread and butter of science, and this makes its way into common speech as well. My friends are well aware of (and irritated by) my strong tendency to draw analogies. In addition, modern science uses standard English terms to define new phenomena, unlike the older practice of graeco-latin etymology. Words such as termination, interference, silencing, screening, and selection have very specific meanings, which can differ significantly from the standard understanding. There are almost field-specific 'dialects'. For example, Prokaryotic and Eukaryotic geneticists speak variant, though mutually intelligible dialects. Of course, it's not very pronounced, but it's discernible.

Earlier this week, I was assisting my guide review a manuscript for an international peer-reviewed journal. I was struck by the relatively poor "genetics" dialect of the authors. While the logic of the article was fine, their argument was on shaky ground. The authors lacked a sound understanding of the language of genetics, which fails to impress reviewers. As I later discovered, the authors were medical doctors. The idea behind any communication in the scientific world is to effectively convey your observations, and defend your findings. The logic should build upon previous findings, and therefore must employ the same jargon.

Googlisms: The perks of prison

Googlism for Aditya:

aditya is confused as he is attracted to shamli but has not thought of marriage & at the same time doesn not know prerna yet she seems to have everything that [plot of Ekta Kapoor serial?!]
aditya is the coolest and the sweetest guy [oh, ok... whatever!]
aditya is the first tanker of the indian navy to be built in the country [Sasta aur tikaoo]
aditya is sort of indifferent to her wails [take that, Be-yatch! And that! And that!]
aditya is a nice man who has been forced to take the path of crime by a wrong doing of the system [expect an angry letter to the Editor of the Economic Times]
aditya is caught by prabha because he's the prime suspect in the murder of an industrialist [crime doesn't pay... as much as it should]
aditya is a criminal who faced the charges for murder and is serving his life term in central jail of vizag [Are we waiting for something.... for Life?!]
aditya is anal [Yeah, prison will do that. Enjoy!]
aditya is glad that the onus is on him to carry the family heirloom [Careful with those family heirlooms in the prison shower]

Googlisms: Ridiculous demons

Googlisms for Tamal:

tamal is corn [I think they were going for corny]
tamal is wrapped in papatla husks [A straitjacket would be more effective]
tamal is the main murder suspect in srila prabhupada's poisoning [Say two Hail Marys Hare Krishnas]
tamal is untrustworthy [yeah, poisoning someone will do that for your reputation]
tamal is 3 feet long [more like 3 feet tall]
tamal is wrapped in the corn husk and baked [I think I had a dream where I did that]
tamal is ridiculous [As I've said myself many times]
tamal is stuffed with stewed chicken or pork [only at dinner time]
tamal is excellent [HAHAHAHAHA!]
tamal is a tamal is a tamal [how existential!]
tamal is exalted [...at least by me!]
tamal is always a surprise waiting to be opened [true]
tamal is sick from accepting karma [Ye shall reap what ye sow, chump]
tamal is running scared [... of karma?!]
tamal is in a very quiet crisis [I know]
tamal is a demon [... sometimes]
tamal is wonderful [... sometimes]
tamal is to die for… [can't argue with that. I agree]

Googlisms: Cool handsome God

Bumped into googlism.com. Spooky how accurate these things can be!

Here's a run down of googlisms of me and some friends.

Me:


rohan is cool [Duh!]

rohan is a handsome 7 [Again... can't argue with that!]

rohan is the leader of the mystic knights and the first to gain his armour [cool!]

rohan is not at all what he seems [how true]

rohan is the home of the eorlingas [well, I do love me some lingas]

rohan is an institution [true]

rohan is god [ditto]

rohan is unofficially ranked in top 10 in the world in international moth class [hey, who're you calling a moth?!]

rohan is the son of peter theobald and levana fletcher [bald?!]

rohan is only two and a half years old but his brain is matured to a hundred years old guy he is sharp and everybody is proud of this little babe [yeah, we tend to do that]

rohan is also seen in a lot of local television commercials [Dr. Batra's, mostly]

rohan is considered to be one of the best athletes [how am I kidding?!]

rohan is san francisco's first and premier soju bar [So-who?!]

rohan is one of them [I KNEW it!]

rohan is dashing and smart [how redundant]

rohan is an unusual one [true true]

rohan is aditya's attempt to trick him [Hey!]

rohan is his own man [true]

rohan is draganta [who's in drag?!]

rohan is not the only victim of feng shui [my first chinese words!]

rohan is now studying film technique and art design at the university level [...almost]

These are a few of my favourite genes....

David Ng reimagines the Sound of Music...

Sigma and the Tale of a new city

I recently joined the Computational & Functional Genomics department of the Centre for DNA Fingerprinting & Diagnostics, at Hyderabad, as a Doctoral candidate.

My Doctoral studies will focus on the molecular mechanisms of the sigma factors of Mycobacterial genomes. Sigma factors control initiation of gene expression, and act as the recognition domains of RNA polymerase enzymes for specifically recognizing DNA sequences. In effect, the presence (or absence) of sigma factors regulates which genes are expressed.

Individual genes are preceded by short tags, called promoters. These genetic beacons act as colour-coded post-its, read by the sigma factors. For example, lets assume the cell is exposed to excess heat. The cell ceases all activity, goes into red alert, and activates the heat stress sigma factor, the “in case of fire” secret dossier. This dossier contains the locations of all heat stress proteins (a sort of sleeper cell, if you will), which must be activated pronto. The sigma factor discloses the location of these genes to the transcriptional machinery, allowing them to be expressed.

The cell maintains an arsenal of different sigma factors, to be activated under specific conditions. For example, DNA damage, heat shock, osmotic shock, hypoxia, etc.

My Doctoral work will focus on the exact mechanism of sigma factors within Mycobacteria, the causative agents of TB and leprosy. Mycobacteria are extremely hardy bugs, and can survive under a multitude of conditions and extreme environments. They are also incredibly slow growing, which makes studying them very difficult. M.tb has 13 sigma factors, while the average gut bacteria has only 7. It is predicted that some Mycobacteria have as many as 26 different sigma factors. The implications of this are astounding.

Split down the middle

The other day as I was passing through Secunderabad, a guy in a nice shirt handed me an anti reservation pamphlet. It had a graphic of India split down the middle, half general, half reserved. Pretty strong stuff, I thought.

When the Mandal Commission fracas erupted all those years back, I was just a kid. My elder brother was one of the protesters. To me, he typified the sense of disenfranchisement the youth felt at the time. I could see in him a sense of powerlessness, of being unable to determine your own future against the heavy handedness of the government. Times were changing. A young, dynamic and modernizing Rajiv Gandhi was gone, and power seemed restored to the Old Guard. An Old Old Guard.

When school was closed due to the rioting, I suddenly aware of how vulnerable we all were. I realized my brother was gone all day, and would come back late at night, carrying anti-reservation material. He never talked about what exactly he was doing, and I never asked. My parents weren't thrilled, but they felt the students had no other choice. I still remember the sheer desperation everybody around me felt. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what the big deal was about. Being bought up in the Indian ethos of looking up to authority, I always assumed they knew best. But why were my brother and his friends so worked up? In school I thought we all got along. So why can't people in the outside world? Were they worried about seats in colleges? SO worried that they were setting themselves on fire? I just didn't understand.

As I moved out of Delhi, I came to realize how the rest of India looks at caste. But it was only when I moved to the South that I truly began to understand what caste means.

Caste is everything. It is your identity and your currency. It is your past, and your future. It determines who you marry, who you work for, and who'll employ you. It determines how you see the world, and how the world sees you. Caste is something that you wear on your sleeve, proudly or like a Star of David. That is the reality in India today.

My caste has determined what Institutes will take me. It has determined how much I pay for fees, and what benefits I was eligible for (in my case, zero). As a member of a 'forward caste', I was not allowed to take formal responsibility for my lab, a position the state government dictated could only be held by an 'Adi Dravid'. Proactive SC teachers cut my marks, while SC/BC/OBC/MBC students did suspiciously well in their classes. I know it sounds like circumstantial. Perhaps I was being paranoid. Or perhaps my paranoia stemmed from the university granting a special scholarship to students who were "SC converted to Christianity".

67% of my classmates were on reserved seats. They were bright, no doubt. I knew enough to understand that if it wasn't for reservation most of them wouldn't have gotten as far as they had. It's a shame, because they were indeed deserving and hard working. Most of them came
from relatively modest background, and state reservation allowed them to join a Centrally funded postgrad programme that otherwise might be outside their grasp. The Centre coughed up a LOT of money to establish a setup in a cutting edge research area, and to equip future
researchers with these modern tools. Sure, I can see no harm in ensuring social representation among future scientists. Perhaps there is indeed a dilution of overall quality, and perhaps that is
acceptable. To an extent.

An accreditation commission member was taken aback when I appraised him of the caste situation in the university. It was pretty funny, actually. I met him after a general student interaction with the commission. I knew I could never raise the issue in public and escape unscathed. I didn't have the balls to do that. Scratch that. I WON'T have any balls left. To scratch or anything. When I mentioned the level of reservation, the guy was genuinely shocked. Seeing me talking to him seemed enough to spook a professor who immediately shooed him
into a waiting car, while the guy stammered to me he'll look into it. Yeah, sure. Good luck with that! I won't hold my breath.

The last batch to be inducted had only 1 general category student. The remaining 3 seats were given to category students, without going through the general category wait list. Fair minded professors protested, while the proactive chairman of the school went ahead and authorized it when the others were out of town.

I honestly don't know where I stand on reservations. I'd like to think India will someday be a meritocracy, because that I've always been told is the eventual goal. But the idea of merit is inherently biased. Every merit exam has an upper caste bias. I come from a family that always encouraged me to read, where the pursuit of knowledge was seen as a goal in itself. My family's financial status allowed me access to resources others did not, and enabled me to develop abstract and random notions of intellectual pish-posh. What if my family background was different? How different would my childhood have been? Probably a lot. It'll have been all Campa, not Kafka.

Adam and the Snake

I am finally a Postgraduate. Yipeee! The last few weeks have been very hectic. My thesis left hardly any time for anything else.

My thesis, on the occurrence of distinct mutations on the Y chromosome in North Indian men, left many people confused. Admittedly, I was one of them. It all boils down to one particular mutation: M17.

This marker confounds me still. Here's why:

• Every single North Indian Brahmin I sampled (including myself) carried M17. Gaur, Saraswat, Kanyakubj... all were M17.
• Off the record, I heard some of the results of the NRY (Non recombining Y Chromosome) typing of some South Indian samples. These results are not in the public domain, and I'm not supposed to know this. It seems an ancient Brahmin settlement somewhere in Southern Tamil Nadu (I wasn't told which) turned up ALL M17s. This in itself is amazing news.
• I heard from my Guide, who is the South Asia Principal Investigator for the Genography Project, that M17 is turning up in unexpected numbers in Central Asia.
• In Eastern Europe, about half of all men carry M17.

Based on such figures, M17 has been called the Indo-Aryan marker. The frequency of M17 diminishes down the caste hierarchy, which further cements this presumption.

However, some recent data on Microsatellites on the Y Chromosome seems to complicate matters. Microsatellites are repeating segments of 2 or 3 nucleotides.... eg, AGAGAGAG..... they may be 10 repeats, 30, or 300. The genome is littered with thousands and thousands of distinct Microsatellites. The repeat number is mutable within the span of generations, so individuals with the same (or similar) repeat numbers are more closely related. Sample large enough numbers of people, and you can start to build something of a family tree. Now, simply put, if within a population, you find wildly different repeat numbers for a particular MS, that would mean that the population is more diverse, or in other words, more ancient. Here's where the story of M17 in India gets complicated. Look at Microsatellites on M17 men, and you'll see that there is enormous diversity, vastly more than was expected. Even Central Asia, the presumed birthplace of M17, doesn't have this much diversity. So what does this mean? On the face of it, this would imply M17 originated in India. If so, then how do you account for its presence in Eastern Europe? The Aryan Invasion Theory, or Sons-of-India?

Some scientists like to use popular terminology to explain concepts. Among them, Genetic Adam. Simply put, all men alive today share a single male common ancestor, dubbed Adam. He was the patriarch of a lineage that eventually dominated all other human lineages, till none survive. It is believed Adam lived somewhere in East Africa 40-60 Thousand years ago.

So one stormy night, while I contemplated Adam on my way back to the hostel, I nearly stepped on this Snake.

This is a Saw Scaled Viper, AKA the Carpet Viper. Kills more people than any other snake in the world.

It's Good Friday, Folks

Lately I've been seeing this quite a bit: Islam bashing on the blogsphere. People quote incidents in rural Bihar or Iraq, and make sweeping statements about Islamic theology. Personally, I didn't expect such vitriolic behavior from Indians. Understandably some people (ie, some Hindus) have preconceived notions about Islam, and those notions are culturally inherited. Understandable. Not acceptable, but understandable.

This view of Islam as the enemy of Hinduism is, well, old. For some time now, Hinduism has been facing serious onslaughts, and it ain't from Islam. Most Hindus are so blinkered into seeing Islam as the enemy, they fail to see what's happening under their very noses. The Churches are far more active than people realize, and they mean business.

When I was a kid, my folks kept a maid to look after me, and to ensure my older siblings didn't toss me in the trash (or scratch my eyes out). This maid also worked in the nearby Church, cleaning and stuff. The priest told her that if she and her daughter converted, the girl could join the school run by the Church, free. As the maid told my mother," If converting gives my daughter a better future, then why not?" Good point.

Years later, I would meet the occasional Bible Society fellow or Jehovah's Witness, who would talk to our family about THE Family. I guess we were nice enough, and listened patiently. As Hindus, we were open to all forms of worship, and tolerant of dissenters. But how much can you take, when someone comes into your home, and disses your belief system as mere superstition? No Sir. After a while, all Bible Society solicitations were answered by the snarling dog. Run Witness, run. The power of Jehovah compels you! Hehehehe.

In school I did have a rather pushy classmate, who seemed intent on scoring.... my soul. Funny how when they expect you to listen patiently while they proselytize, yet are scandalized when you do the same.

It was only in college that I came to appreciate the scale of these operations. South India is a virtual cesspool of Churches. Every bus is plastered with innocuous looking posters for "Youth Meetings", which turn out to be gatherings to praise His name. Gosh, it's all so cloak and dagger, they might as well be putting on white cloaks and burning Crosses, rather than worshiping them. It's common to see posters for firebrand preachers with names like Rev. John Kumar or Kishore Ezekiel Thomas. I've heard a few. It's all fire-and-brimstone sermons.

If you dig a bit deeper, you'll see that the traditional Churches in India are relatively quiet. The Catholic and Anglican Churches are comfortable to keep to themselves, and aren't looking to score major converts. But the American Protestant Churches are really stepping on the gas. In Tamil Nadu, you are never too far from a Pentecost Church. The Pentecosts are pilferaging from the traditionally sane flocks of the CSI (Church of South India). It's these American Churches that are doing the maximum damage. Students are actively working on their classmates. Not so long ago, after my father passed away, a classmate told me that I should think instead of the Heavenly Father, and how much Jesus loves me. I'd seen this before. They went after people who were emotionally vulnerable, and comfort them with Jesus. I saw it at work on another classmate, who finally succumbed to the Jesus-babble. I was carpet bombed with scriptural SMSes, biblical nuggets on grief and loss. I was told the "Living Word of God" would make everything all right. I was literally handed a Bible in class. I politely told her thanks, but I already have two Bibles at home, which I have read. I added that they sit quite comfortably between my two copies of the Gita, and the Quran. They seem to get along fine. Why don't you read what the Quran has to say?

The Baptist and Pentecost Churches also seem to encourage a schism with the rest of Indian society. A lot of people identity more with the Mother Churches in the US than with other Indians. It's this that has me most worried.

The picture above is a sticker on a door near mine, by a group called The India Church Growth Mission, or ICGM. It is Psalms 128:5: “The LORD bless you from Zion. May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life.”

Tamil: to be or not to be

One of the first things I became acutely aware of in Madurai was the notion of identity. It excludes as much as it includes. So which is it? What defines identity? Ethnicity? Primary language? Religion? Caste?

The first billboard I saw in Madurai was a bilingual one, the only bilingual billboard I have ever seen in Madurai. It said, in Tamil and English (in that order), "Tamil language, divine language". I'm told such billboards are scattered across Tamil Nadu. Now, what I don't get is, why English? In all such matters, the use of English is anathema to the "Tamil-is-divine" bunch. So why have a billboard announcing the greatness of Tamil; in English? It's obvious: for the benefit of people like me. Just what they wanted me to take from it, I still dunno.

Something that's always confused me is the sense of Tamil identity. Tamils are probably the most divisive people I know, yet there is a strange sense of belonging. What's stranger still is the number of ethnically non-Tamils who identify themselves as Tamil. When non-Tamils (especially northies) think of Tamil (or any other group), we think ethnic group. A lot of the pro-Tamil people I know turned out to be ethnic Telugus, or Mallus. One recent expat from Andhra went so far as to tell me he now preferred Tamil over Telugu. Back in Bangalore, the first person I
knew from Tamil Nadu (and identifying herself as Tamil) turned out to be Telugu as well.

Yesterday I passed by two Badagas chatting. For those of you who don't know, Badagas are the largest tribal group in the Nilgiri hills, and speak a dilect of Kannada. I thought I'd use my scant knowledge of Kannada and eavesdrop. Well, whadya know? They were talking in Tamil! I don't get it. Every Badaga I've encountered is very proud of his heritage and language. Yet at least one Badaga I know speaks to his parents in Tamil.

This sort of identity-cross-connection is something I hadn't encountered in the North, at least not at this scale. In the North people are more prone to think in terms of religion=language, but that's definitely not the case here. Most Christians here (again, unlike the North) dress, speak, and behave much like everybody else. Women dress in Indian attire, and sport bindis and Hindu-inspired jewelery. Tamil Churches depict Mary in a sari, again, unlike in the North. In fact, in Bangalore I discovered that pilgrims visiting shrines of Mary for her Feast Day wear
saffron, since it is a holy colour for Indians (as told to me by one such pilgrim).

In contrast, Christians from the North (or the North-East) are far more uprooted (if I may use that term) from their ancestral culture. While most South Indian Christians have Sanskrit names, most North Indian ones do not. There is a denominational bias here. Most recent converts to American protestant churches are especially critical of "Indian" systems, and take special pains to distance themselves from anything “Indian”. It's a cultural thing too, after all. There's a greater identification with the US as the Mother Culture, rather than their
heathen ancestral one.

In recent times, these American churches have made serious inroads into South India, and I hope to cover that in a later post.

2001 : An Identity Crisis

Odd, how we feel when a long term goal is accomplished. For me, that was watching 2001: A Space Odyssey.

I first discovered this film back in school. After the exams, you gotta kill time somehow. Well, for me that meant the library. I discovered this coffee table sorta book, full of visions of how the future might be. Flying cars, giant laser beams, and all that jazz. That's where I first read about 2001: A Space Odyssey. I was hooked.

But when I finally saw the film a few days ago, I was intrigued instead by something else. This film asks obtuse questions about the essence of humanity and consciousness. But I was struck by what shapes our outlook of the world in the first place, and how fluid and dynamic that really is.

Case in point: Scientific concepts trickling down into the public domain and reshaping how we see ourselves and the world. Take for example the descent of man from apes. A concept now so rooted in the public imagination. Hardly the case even 50 years back.

So much has changed. Spiderman is now the result of genetic manipulation, not radiation. ditto with the Hulk. Genetics is the new unknown frontier. Everybody now knows what DNA is. You can have a scene like the Terminatrix performing real-time Genomic sequencing of John Connor's DNA, and everybody can understand what just happened. 20 years ago, could an average audience understand such a scene? 30 years ago? Hardly. It's not like sequencing is a new concept, it just wasn't a part of the public imagination.

Perhaps what I find most disconcerting is how half baked scientific ideas are being paraded in the public. I'll provide an example. As you may or may not know, I am currently working in the population genetics of North Indians, for which I've been analysing the DNA of North Indian men, looking for evidence of migration patterns. I discovered that I carry a genetic marker called M17, which is predominant in Central Asia, Iran, Russia, and Eastern Europe. It is sometimes ubiquitously called the Indo-Aryan marker due to its distribution. Based on its genetic signature, it is believed M17 probably appeared somewhere in the Ukraine region, and spread outwards. M17 is widespread in Iran and North Indian upper castes as well. Curious, I decided to look around for any mention of this marker in the lay media. Well, I was shocked, to say the least. It seems for quite some time now; this and other serious genetic work has been tossed around in the media. People with no understanding of genetics are grossly misinterpreting such work to push forward their own narrow minded agendas. Several articles quote M17 to show an Indo-centric view of the world, the Hindu right-wing notion that the Aryans came from India, and spread outwards. They quote bits from serious research work, and it all looks real convincing.

For that matter, I’ve seen many scientists with a very wrong notion of the basics of Genetics. Especially in a sensitive area such as population genetics, that can be explosive. Take for example the politics of Tamil Nadu. The Dravidian movement seeks to brand Brahmins as outsiders, alien exploiters plundering the innocent Dravidians. Half understood genetic evidence would only serve such bigots. But it’s happening. Even among my classmates, who represent the cream of Tamil Nadu society in terms of education, caste is a dirty secret. Everybody expects caste to come around and bite them on the ass. Caste politics is BIG here. So it’s best not to reveal your own caste affiliations, especially if you’re a Brahmin. I know this because as part of my work, I have to collect details about the person’s ancestry, including nativity, and sub castes. These details are things many people are not comfortable disclosing, even to me.

Funny, isn’t it? In just a few generations, we’ve gone from being proud of our ancestry, to being embarrassed by it. Just goes to show our notions of identity aren't as deep as we like to think.

Munich: Ho hum

Munich was a mixed bag for me.

I must confess, I had a major misconception about this film. I thought this film dealt with the Munich massacre. Not the case. This film deals with what happens after the massacre itself.

Considering the touchy subject matter, and the fact that it’s Steven Spielberg, of all people, I was hooked. A fine film, on the whole. The quality you come to expect out of a Spielberg. Eric Bana is always a delight, and was nice to see more screen time devoted to him. Not the brightest bulb in the store, but pleasant, nonetheless.

That said, this film can be a major yawn fest. Pacing is a problem. You soon lose touch with what exactly is going on, and that’s never a good sign. Some parts of the story seem seriously flat, and it tends to really stretch creditability. Bana may be OK, but the sore spots really bring him down.

I don’t why Spielberg does this, but he has this penchant for inappropriate sex scenes, when it tends to hurt the film the most. Why? The bit right at the end just made it silly. Not cool, Mr. Spielberg. Two reasons for this. One, it undermines the character. Two, inserting key story elements within racy sequences begging for the censor’s scissors. Whether you like it or not, censors exist, and this is a great disservice to the audiences who lose out.

Addendum

From my recent posts, it might seem Madurai is a horrible place. Hardly.

Without a doubt, the people I have met in Madurai are the nicest I have met anywhere. They are friendly and helpful, to the point of absurdity. PhD scholars offering me lifts to the department is pretty common. Scholars who have gone out of their way (way out) to help me with something. Students and classmates who have offered to do something, out of their own accord. I haven't gone to the bank to pay my fees in over a year, because everytime somebody who was going there offered to do it. This is a big deal, considering it requires forms to be filled in triplicate.

I have complete strangers do completely unexpected nice things. Like the old man on the bus who indicated his stop was coming, and I take his seat. That has never happened to me, EVER, in Delhi or Bangalore. But its not that uncommon in Madurai. Or the time this guy called up three different people (from his own phone) to get me directions.

These are the people of Madurai.

Old women who called me Thambi

When I first came to Madurai almost 3 years ago, I had the approach of an idealist. I thought people do bad things, but they do what they think is right for them. I thought the real India would be pretty much how I imagined it: just like urban India, only different. I thought people would be free of the petty meanness that comes from urban living. I sometimes wonder; everywhere you look in India, there is desperation behind every face. Fathers running themselves into the ground to feed their kids. You want the best for your kids, you want them to be safe, to be healthy, to have a secure future. But even the basics take so much. No matter how hard you try, it's not enough. It's like Alice through the Looking Glass, who runs as hard as she can, but she stays right where she was.

I once visited the home of a classmate in another part of Tamil Nadu. She lives so far out of the city, it takes a 15 minute ride in a private coach after the last bus stop, over very bad roads. Even that late at night, the coach was packed, so I guess a lot of people live there. Her home turned out to be tiny and spartan. Minimalist, even. When I heard they get fresh water in a 10 day cycle (10 days water, then 10 days no water, and so on. We were visiting during the dry cycle), it certainly put things into perspective. I bitch and moan that my home on South Delhi gets only 300-400 litres a day. It turned my trip into a guilt trip. Her family was so nice, it was heartbreaking to think people live like this.

For what it's worth, her father is a manager in a nationalised bank.

Funny, isn't it, our sense of perspective? If you live in India, no matter where you are, you will encounter quiet desperation. Maybe the kid holding the tissue boxes outside your car, or the man holding open the lift. We learn early on that they are not part of our world, and we learn not to see them. They float through our world, phantoms crossing our path, but never intersecting.

One time Aditya and I were coming back from visiting some friends of mine, and after waiting 15 minutes for a bus, we decided to take an auto. As it turned out, the driver was pretty chatty. He chatted about his brand new digital meter, commended us on our scant Kannada, and impressed us both with his hindi. But I was really taken in by this man. He was an engineer, but with no job, he drove this rickshaw at night. In the day, he went job hunting. With a huge grin, he produced his laminated certificates from under his seat, and told us he had gone for an interview that morning. This guy had it pretty rough, but he was so cheerful. We wished the best of luck, and went on our way. A few days later, I was talking to a guy in my hostel who was from my school in Delhi. All I remember from that conversation was something about driving his dad's Mercedes at a 120 Kms/hr on the highway outside Delhi... without a license. Talk about perspective, huh?

When I first came to Madurai, I was taken aback by the things I saw. Things you know happen, just not right in front of you. At the main bus stand, there were people sleeping on the platforms, some of whom I noticed hadn't changed positions in days. Many had barely a rag to cover themselves. Old women who called me Thambi, hoping for some spare change. Men who walked as if there was nothing to come home to.

And what was I doing? Well, to the old ladies I said, "Kaas illa"; and watched a DVD of a french film made by a polish guy, while eating a Chicken Sandwich, a Mars bar, and washed down by Diet Coke (ironic, I know). When a single tear runs down Juliet Binoche's cheek, I am all choked up. Such grief! Such loss! As Kaushik would say, so pathetic! I was overwhelmed. But the poor sods I saw earlier that day at the bus stand? Eh.

The colour of Prejudice

I finally saw Crash.

One thing, I am never sure what to write about a movie. I don't want to give anything away, or ruin it for anybody. Which, I might add, leaves very little for me to say. I think it's more appropriate for me to talk about the context of the films within my own life.

As you know, I watched this film in the backdrop of the surprise upset for Brokeback Mountain. Undoubtedly, I had more than a little bias against it. That said, I was sure Crash was a great film, and couldn't wait to see it. I had first heard of the film about 6 months back, and was mighty impressed by the trailer. And then, it sorta just dropped off the radar. Well, not anymore.

Crash is a clever film. I throughly enjoyed it, and saw it at least thrice (lately I've been repeating films out of sheer boredom, so big whoop). It warms my heart that stories like this are being told. Racism is an issue that is too oft sidelined and caricatured, and whether we like it or not, we are all subject to it. Ok, so there is racism. Big deal. We already knew that. But then again, it's not everyday a mainstream film (an Oscar winner, to boot) raises questions most people are uncomfortable to think about. A off hand remark here, a prejudiced opinion there... racism in a way most people could identify with, and that makes them uncomfortable.

I spent a lot of time trying to come up with a scenario from the movie that would effectively convey the sense of discrimination people face. But everything I came up with seems so circumstantial and easily dismissed as pointless intellectual conjecture. Which is why I give you examples from my own life. I have lived for the past three years in a place that officially discriminates against my community. As a Brahmin, I am constantly reminded that Brahmins are not welcome in Tamil Nadu. Before I came here, I was warned by family friends familiar with Tamil Nadu not to mention that I am a Brahmin. Like most of you, I dismissed it out of hand as medieval thinking. People don't really think like that, do they? After all, here I was, a dyed-in-the-wool ultra über-liberal armchair anarchist, with an innocent face and puppy dog eyes... who could hate me?! Or so I thought. Hatred is everywhere. If it's not one thing, it's another. Tamils hated me 'cause I spoke Hindi, and came from Bangalore. Protestant evangelist classmates hated me 'cause I wasn't leap frogging into the loving bosom of Jesus like all my other heathen classmates. P.h.D scholars distrusted me 'cause I was a brahmin with a big mouth who didn't kowtow to their whims. Professors disliked me 'cause I would speak up in class, and my marks bore the brunt. Other students disliked me 'cause I didn't observe the strict protocol of sexual segregation in public.... no boys sitting with girls, or unnecessary talking, or the like. When for the first time in my life, I flunked a paper, I was stunned. It was a subject I had majored in during my undergrad, and I thought I knew the subject matter fairly well. This was till I heard whispers that the prof was a bigot who favoured his cronies, and had a strong dislike for brahmins. But I thought, my secret is safe. Nobody knows I'm a brahmin. That illusion vanished when I saw my permanent records file in the office, with BRAHMIN branded across the front. I shit you not. Your file prominently displays your caste... followed by your name in appropriatly smaller letters.

In the hostel mess, I almost always get served last, no matter where I sit. I get the rotis or puris nobody else wanted. My dosas are always cold and undercooked. At first I was pissed, but after a few years, you tend to just shrug your shoulders and do nothing.

When our hostel mess secretary decided to serve beef, the other north Indians were outraged. This was blasphemous, and they refused to eat in the mess on those days. While I have no personal problems with beef, I was flabbergasted that North Indians could be treated so coldly. It quickly became clear that the beef issue served little purpose other than to humiliate northies. Cooking beef with no prior warning (especially religious holidays) left the northies with no options to make alternate arrangements. Many would go to bed hungry. I raised this issue with every higher authority, and everybody had the same response: deal with it. WTF? My initial response would have been to put these bigots in their place, but living here has made me realise how wonton their hatred is. I know most of you who read this will think it unjust, but that's just how it is.

And it goes both ways. None of the other northies has even attempted to learn Tamil. They consider Tamil to be vile and wretched; a most heinous language. I can tell you that's definately not the case. But the prejudices go deep. Imagine my joy at meeting another amateur linguist, conversant with a few Indian languages; familiar with French, German, Dutch; and a smattering of Sindarin. He also made it clear he thought Tamil was a foul and uncouth language, and had none of the charm of the Indo-European languages. This really had me thinking. Here was someone highly educated, in the top 0.2% of the Indian population, and bigoted. He was hardly the exception. Almost every North Indian I know has a fairly similiar opinion of the South.

Prejudice knows no boundaries. Actually, scratch that. Prejudice knows nothing but boundaries.

Brokeback High expulsion a hoax

Well, whadya know? Looks like I fell for it, just like everyone else.

The expulsion of high schooler Brandon Flyte over his class film project has turned out to be an elaborate hoax. While he did make the film for his english class, and it did have the controversial snuggle scene in it, there was no expulsion. It seems it was a hoax, and now he's in real trouble.

Brokeback High

Brandon Flyte, a student at West Linn High School in West Linn, Oregon, was recently expelled for airing a video project he had been assigned in class which includes a same-sex "snuggle" scene. The film, Brokeback High, is a "gay love story" based on themes from Brokeback Mountain, but set in a modern day high school.

Flyte writes on his website:

"One has to wonder if any of this would've happened had the two characters snuggling in my film been male and female. We're led to believe that diversity is encouraged in schools, but when a 17 year-old straight kid makes a serious gay love story and is expelled for it, it just begs the question of exactly what kind of policy was the administration following? I recall Tim Fields, one of the vice-principals at my school, having to think for at least a minute when asked by the office lady, 'What should I put down for 'reason of withdrawal'?' If the basis of my expulsion is so unclear to them, then surely the circumstances surrounding it are extremely questionable and the grounds on which I was removed are both unfair and unexplainable."

Wow. Man, kids today... when I was 17, I was gripped by the boxers vs briefs debate.

There is a clip of Brokeback High on his website, and an area to leave comments and support. According to Flyte, "West Linn High says they’ll pay for me to finish up my last 2 months of high school at Clackamas Community College, and I'll be able to walk with my high school class at graduation and attend Prom as a guest."

The faineant solitudinarian shoots his own film today... best of luck.

Annie Proulx is pissed

... and isn't afraid to show it. Ooh Snap!

Bless her soul. Read what the author of Brokeback Mountain had to say about her Oscar® experience.

Looks like she didn't take the loss of BBM too well, huh? Snarky. Good to know.

Post-Crash Post

Post Oscars, there has been a lot of debate online as to the shock win of 'Crash', and 'Brokeback's debacle. While I personally didn't expect Brokeback to win every award it was nominated for, I did expect it to haul in most of them. Some of the Brokeback nominations were against very strong contenders, such as Philip Seymour Hoffman, or George Clooney (Supporting Actor). It would have been unrealistic for BBM to bag those Oscars, but I didn't expect the relatively poor haul. Ang Lee's Oscar is well deserved, and lessens the sense of outrage.

BBM has swept every major film festival it entered, beginning with the Venice film festival, the Berlin festival, Telluride... it wasn't allowed to compete in the Cannes film festival. This was followed by awards by every major American group... the Producers Guild of America, the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn., the Broadcast Film Critics Assn. and the British Academy. The lone exception was the Screen Actor's Guild, which leaned towards Crash.

In hindsight, there were clear signs that BBM would fare far poorer at the Oscars. Reuters has an excellent analysis of the Brokeback debacle.

Crash n' Burn

I was in the middle of my morning crunches when The faineant solitudinarian called to update me on the Oscars… and Brokeback’s pathetic showing so far. I resumed my crunches, chanting, “Please let Brokeback win…. Please let Brokeback win…”.

Brokeback didn’t win, and I ended up with sore abs.

I’m glad the Academy finally gave Ang Lee the credit he deserves. He deserves much more.

Aditya says BBM is releasing in Mumbai on the 10th of this month….. yipeee! Yee haw!!

George Clooney… finally. Too bad for Jakey Poo.

Keep your eyes peeled on The faineant solitudinarian and Stuff happens for further post Oscar buzz.

Damn you, Crash. Damn you to hell.

It's almost here

The Oscars are almost upon us.

I'm so nervous.... I hope Brokeback wins. There may be some fear of me jumping out a window in case it doesn't. Oh well, if you can't change it, you gotta stand it.

Unfortunately, I will be unable to watch the Oscars live (no TV). I'm going to have a most restless night, that's for sure.

Fingers crossed for BBM.

Narnia: Rampant lions and Meen Varuval

Or rather, Narnia: Athisaya Ulagam, the Tamil version.

I really liked it. Considering I never really cared for the original story, I find it compelling. Having read the story as a child, but with little recollection, I recently reread The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Funny, how you miss some little things in the story. In the book, Aslan's Standard is described as a Rampant Lion. It's mentioned a few times, but I totally overlooked the significance of the word... till I saw it in the movie. It was a reference to Heraldry, but I totally missed it. Stupid of me, since I spent the summer of '98 learning Heraldry. Even the Coat of Arms of the school were I was at that time had a Rampant Lion. Surrounded by Heraldry everywhere on the school grounds, it was something that had me hooked. To demonstrate, here is an example shield generated by the Blazon software. In the jargon of Heraldry (called Blazon), this shield would be denoted by "Sable, a Rampant Lion Gules". Which, simply put, stands for, "A black field, and a red Rampant Lion".

Back to the film. After finally watching the English version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (I had seen Harry Potter: Mayita Koppiyam), I have begun to appreciate what a neat job the dubs are. In Narnia, the Tamil voices appear to have been chosen with care, to represent the original characters as closely as possible. Mrs. Macready has the voice and diction of a very sharp and strict Tamil matron. Peter's enunciation of Tamil is very clear, and reflects how the English Peter would have spoken Recieved Pronunciation, while the other children might still speak a form of Estuary English. But most interesting would have to be the tamil employed for the animals. The beavers speak like a middle aged couple, and the way Mrs. Beaver speaks, you half expect her to put out a tray of steaming filter coffee (besides the Meen Varuval). Maugrim the wolf speaks like a dastardly south Indian villian with a hearty belly laugh and a moustache to boot.

Frankenstein bags himself a new bride

Somewhere Someday, over the rainbow threshold....

Hot steamin' burnin' review

Toby: Did you know the Lord of the Rings is gay?

Bree: Beg your pardon?

Toby: There's this big black tower, right, and it points right at this huge burning vagina thing, and, like, its the symbol of ultimate evil...
and then Sam and Frodo have to go into this cave, and deposit their magic ring, into this hot streaming lava pit...
only at the last minute, Frodo can't perform, so Gollum bites off his finger. Gay.

That's from Transamerica.

Transamerica is the sort of movie I like: low budget; to satisfy my smug anti-capitalist ideals, just so long as it doesn't reflect in the movie's look, costumes, locations, props, cinematography, music.... and oh yes, acting.

I really enjoyed this film. Well, not the sort of enjoyment I might derieve from a Vin Diesel movie, spending an hour and a half looking for that new facial expression I heard hes got. Or watching Mallika Sherawat's clothes drop faster than Danish credibility in the Middle East.

Transamerica was most enjoyable. A delightfully offbeat story, and wonderfully understated performances. I don't mean understated like Sunny Deol's acting (which is trumped only by his wonderfully delicious dancing). Understated in the sense of good acting, but no screaming or major crying required. Honestly, how many performances like that are there?!

I give it two thumbs up. Way up.... and I have a silly grin on my face. I gotta see this one in the hall, just to see the reaction of the audience...

P.S: I was delighted to learn that Kevin Zegers, who plays Toby, was in one of my favourite episodes of The X-Files. He was a little boy who bears the Stigmata.

Plutonian pancakes

Many months back, When I was watching Batman Begins, I spent an awful lot of that time thinking Cillian Murphy was actually Winona Ryder in dude drag. Really really! I kid you not!

So, if you're like me, and been wondering what Cillian Murphy looks like in a wig and a dress, you should see Breakfast on Pluto.

It's a wonderfully quirky movie. Who knew Irish films could be like this?!

Something that did catch my eye (other than Ms. Murphy), was the music (OK, it caught my ear). The music is wonderfully upbeat, and not what I would have expected. There's a breeziness that intrigued me the entire movie.

Brief BBM update

It ain't right not to post something on the phenomena that Brokeback Mountain has become. Unfortunately, I haven't the time right now! If you can't change it, you got to stand it.

So till I do, here's something else to chew on: Brokeback has crossed $100 million in sales worldwide. The cost of making BBM was $14 million.

The shirts from the movie (yes, THOSE shirts...) were recently sold on ebay for a children's charity. The shirts went for $101,100.51.

Photo-op: Pissed off soldier

This soldier ant guards his colony of Weaver Ants from my prying eyes....

This colony is on a tree near my department, something I see everyday on my way to the tea shop. Can you believe the tea shop guy charges 2.5 bucks for a vada?!

The Bear, the Fairy, and the Closet

Apropos some recent comments over at the faineant solitudinarian, I bring you some wonderful news, and an insight straight from the horse's mouth.

Sir Ian McKellen received a Golden Bear lifetime achievement award at the Berlin Film Festival over the weekend and used the opportunity to talk about the challenges of being openly gay in Hollywood:

"It is very, very, very difficult for an American actor who wants a film career to be open about his sexuality. And even more difficult for a woman if she’s lesbian. It’s very distressing to me that that should be the case. It’s not true of actors on the other side of the American continent, on Broadway, where people are very at ease with being open and honest. But the film industry is very old fashioned in California. My own career in mainstream films really took off once I’d come out and said I was gay. And that’s the way it should be because Heath Ledger isn’t gay nor am I straight and yet I can play straight parts and he can successfully play gay men. It’ll fade away eventually.

I was warned by friends in the industry, particularly the American film industry, that my life was about to change. They knew I was going to be famous, seriously famous. Of course it’s always a part of an actor’s interest in his job that he might appeal to a very, very wide audience but in the theatre that can’t be the case. Those films have reached round the world. And that popularity has rubbed off on me. There is no country in the world I can safely be anonymous in.

I think to become extremely famous when you’re very young must be very daunting and very difficult to cope with and shouldn’t really be part of your life because you should be concentrating on the work and not on people’s reaction to your work."

Photo-op: Mantis

 

Photo-op: Arachnophilia

This gianormous spider lives right down the hall from me.... how could I not put it here?

Photo-op: My Private plague

Locust on my phone antenna.

What next, frogs from the sky?

I am Darkness

Saw a clip of the South Park Tom Cruise “come out of the closet” episode. Cracked me up.

For those who haven't heard about it, Tom Cruise locks himself in Stan's closet, and refuses to come out. This is followed by several dozen appeals for Tom Cruise to 'come out of the closet'. Even Nicole Kidman pitches in.

This episode was blocked from broadcast in the UK. Gosh darn.

I ask you, when did Tom get so kooky? I always thought of him fondly (!!!), and actually sat through some of his god-awful films just because it was Tom Cruise. I thought it was sweet that he was married to someone taller and talented (maybe more than him) in her own right. Who knew he likes 'em tall n' butch?!

The whole Katie Holmes business smells fishy. How long did they know each other? 3 months? You know how much that is in Thetan years? I don't buy the lovey-dovey stuff. The most romantic thing Tom ever told Katie was “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again”.

The Turkey Baster jokes aside, I really feel sorry for that girl... and her alien babies. Her babies will unlock the portal to the Ogdru Jihad, paving the way for the return of Ron. E. Hubbard. Yikes!

The title of this post comes from the tagline of probably the first Tom Cruise film I saw, Legend. A demon seeks to create eternal night by destroying the last of the unicorns and marry the fairy princess.

















No, Tom's neither the Demon nor the Fairy princess. He's the forest boy, Jack, who aided by his elven allies, must beat off beat the demon before its too late.

Jet and Sahara

The recent acquisition of Air Sahara by Jet Airways has been discussed threadbare in the public domain, and there have been a lot of questions asked about its ramifications.

Coming from an Aviation family, this is an area that has always been close to my heart, and I’m bound to have an opinion on the matter.

For what it’s worth, the deal is heavily overpriced. Sahara is definitely not worth that much. Sahara doesn’t even own its planes, they’re leased. What Jet does acquire, however, is something less tangible. It gains over 200 pilots, and an array of ground staff. Sahara assets spread throughout the country are important. Sahara has hangers in places like Calcutta and Hyderabad, where Jet doesn’t. 60% of Jet flights originate and terminate at Mumbai, where most of Jet’s assets are concentrated.

Perhaps more important are the less tangible gains that Jet has made. Jet now dominates the Delhi-Mumbai sector, the most lucrative. Much of the traffic on this sector are dedicated business travellers, who can afford to travel on any airline they like, and are less likely to shift to budget airlines. Jet also gains Sahara’s code sharing rights to international Destination. This is an aspect that has been overlooked, perhaps. Code Sharing rights are hard to get, and many airlines routine club together to operate a single flight. Jet has been denied access to US skies, though it’s only a matter of time.

But I still wonder if all this was worth it. After all, Sahara was floundering. Profits were razor thin, and valuation of personnel is a difficult task. Sure, Pilots are tough to get. Last year Jet had to cancel flights because there weren’t enough pilots to go around. Sahara’s pilots are Boeing trained the same as Jet. This makes the pilots an immensely valuable resource. Training a pilot from scratch is immensely expensive. How expensive? Well, flying a commercial Jet requires a CPL (Commercial Pilot’s License), and training somebody up to that level costs well over 13-14 lakhs. As you can imagine, training to become a pilot is something most people can’t afford. Finding qualified, experienced pilots is harder still. Plus, they should be trained to fly the same kind of jets that you have. Acquiring pilots from Indian Airlines and Kingfisher is not possible, since they have Airbus Conversion. Retraining them for Boeing Conversion is too impractical.

Still, what does all this mean for the average flyer? A few weeks ago I travelled on Jet, Mumbai-Chennai-Madurai. Though it was nice to see smiling faces on Jet, I had my reservations. Most of the staff seemed younger than me, and I’m young! I’m not sure how they’d cope in an emergency situation. Experience really counts. Are they emotionally equipped to deal with a terrorist wielding a semi-automatic, or are they limited to handing me my aloo bondas? I dunno.

However, there are other things that kind of pissed me off about Jet. Throughout the flight, the guy sitting in front of me had his seat reclined, something that makes eating very difficult. If this had been Indian Airlines, a matronly Airhostess would have barked at him to keep his seat back upright…. But sadly, nothing of the sort happened here. But more importantly, it was shocking to see the lack of basic procedures. The girl sitting next to me (a child star from a recent bollywood film) and her mother kept fiddling with their Sony Ericsson 910. Now, admittedly, this phone has a flight mode, which makes it safe to use in flight. However, NO electronic devices may be used while taxing or descent, as it seriously screws up the sensitive navigational arrays. Twice during descent, the pilot had to announce over the PA to turn off all electronic devices. But none of the flight crew had the nerve to turn the lady to turn off her phone. Is this the great service Jet offers? Gee, I’ll be sure to remember that when we’re plummeting to Earth as a giant fireball.

Photo-op: Koliyalagam

From today, I begin a new segment called Photo-op. In this, I’ll post a new picture everyday from my life, along with an explanation. It could be anything, and there are no agendas planned. Given my life, it could very well be anything, and everything.

My first Photo-op is Koliyalagam.

It’s a sign I pass at least 4 times a day, on my way to the Department. For many years, the Planetarium on campus has lain vacant, and used to serve as a storehouse for old answer scripts. Within the last year, however, the Planetarium has been spruced up, and it is hoped it be restored to its full glory soon.

The restoration meant the sign was repaired and got a new coat of paint.

Mega Update

Update time, folks.

Man, there's so much to say.

First off, Australia was great. The people are very hospitable, and the place is magnificent. Darwin has the tropical weather I'm used to, and it's scantily populated, thank God! Us Indians are just not used to seeing big broad roads with no traffic jam.

Traffic jam reminds me, what's with Bangalore lately? It seems to be rapidly deteriorating ever since I left. I know, you turn your back for two minutes and everything falls apart without you....

On a more serious note, the terrorist attack at IISc in Bangalore has had it's effect in Madurai too. According to the hushed whispers of people here, it seems Madurai was a possible target too. The very visible police deployment in Madurai doesn't bode well, either. The police have taken to stopping all vehicles passing the University and questioning them. It happened to me too. Or maybe they mistook me for a Kashmiri terrorist. Oh well. It won't be the first time the colour of my skin has gotten me into hot water here.

In other news, Brokeback Mountain scores 8 Oscar nominations, the highest of any film this year!! Yeee Haw! Bush claims not to have seen the film, though he's heard about it... he giggles, and tells people to go see it. The producer of BBM said in a recent interview that the White House requested for a print of the film and was sent one, though he has no idea who did see it.

My Oscar guesses? Glad you asked. BBM is gonna score Ang Lee Best Director. He deserves it. Best Actor is probably going to Capote, though it would be a hoot if BBM snags that as well. Best Actress? At this point, my guess is Transamerica. Notice I refer to the films scoring the awards, not the people? That's because I strongly believe each performance is unique, and is inextricably bound to the film. An actor may give a brilliant performance, but it's the film that gives him/her the opportunity to do so. It takes a film like BBM to extract rave performances from Heath Ledger and Jake G., both of whom had no serious acting credits till date. Now they're the toast of Hollywood. Funny, isn't it? A few years ago, BBM was the “greatest unproducable script”, and now, it's tearing open minds and hearts. As for acting skills, well, let's just say, does anybody remember Hoffman in a memorable role before Capote? Or any role, that they can remember? I have, and believe me, if he had talent then, it wasn't used. That's how it is. The film is bigger than just the sum of its actors.

Back to the Oscars. Best film? I hope BBM, but the SAG awards have thrown up a strong contender, Crash. BBM cleaned up at the Golden Globes, which tend to reward smaller, better made films than the glitz loving Oscars. However, Crash is a very LA film, and has strong Southern California roots, where most of the SAG voters live. Crash triumphed at the SAG awards, and BBM flopped. SAG voters make up the largest contingent of Academy voters. You do the math. The LA Weekly says that homophobia is keeping many straight Academy members from even screening Brokeback. Either way, let's see. If BBM triumphs at the Oscars, I'll commend their good judgement. If it fails, I'll lam bast their small minded, bourgeois redneck thinking.

But BBM has exceeded all expectations of it's financial returns. Made on a tiny budget of $ 14 million, its earnings per screen are the highest ever. Its popularity can only grow after the appearance of the cast on Oprah. Oprah's seal of approval means legions of Oprah's slaves zombies fans will now descend on their nearest cineplex in their millions. Each deranged fan brings their $$ with them. I commend Oprah for that. Her uneasiness with the subject matter is clear, but she's done more for this film than any wingnut neocon could hope to undo. Bravo, Oprah. Malcontent has the entire Oprah clip on his website. Check it out.

Singapore

Happy New Year, everybody!

So many things to write about, so here goes.

SINGAPORE:

1. First off, seeing so many pretty people is definitely not good for your ego.

2. Also, avoid Maa Siam at all costs. It's hard to describe, but it tastes like fish guts pickled in vinegar. As yummy as that sounds, it's not good.

3.Indians are pretty big show-offs.

4.Used to ogling at prices in US $, prices in SG $ are psychologically harder to digest.

5.More people were speaking Cantonese than I expected.

6.This is unrelated, but Scandanavians don't look quite as people think. This is something that I've been hearing a lot lately in population genetic circles, and seeing 'em live was definitely helpful.

7. Airport announcers just cannot handle Indian names... much to my amusement!