This is my World

I ceased being me when I was six years old. My parents had two choices, Shweta or Shravanthy. They went with the shorter one. They believed the shorter it was, the longer it would stay. But my reason for assuming a different identity was, different. I just did not want to be a Rajeshwari among Krithikas and Aarthys. So one fine evening, I left school as Rajeshwari Rangachaari and returned next morning as Shweta Aiyar.  Some would say I was not true to my new identity either. I would not disagree with them. I was more of a Shweta than an Aiyar and always left a trail of unorthodoxy in my wake, which did not sit too well with my parents and neighbours. But I marched on, unabashed by my wayward ways. I learnt very early in my life not to heed to the whims of the society. I was just a few hours old then. Appa brought in his prized Canon to take a picture of his beautiful princess, only that the young princess would not look at the camera, let alone pose and smile. In fact, I alway

I am a man of simple tastes. I love women, sex and power. But, what I enjoy the most, is blood - thick, and warm, and dripping down the fingers of my arms. Knives are my favorite. Though they are not as gratifying as the bare hands around the neck of a subdued victim, they share my love for blood. And they let me relish the look of terror in the victim's eyes, the panic in their voices, their convulsed breathing, the tears for mercy, the shivering bodies and their naked souls. One of my other loves is Thallium. I got acquainted with it when I used it on a friend long ago. He was a writer. And he fell ill. I offered to take care of him. In the next nine days, I injected him with massive doses of the substance. After the first day, his legs and feet throbbed. On the second, he complained of dizziness and asphyxiation. On the third, he felt a sharp sting in his heart and I wallowed in his suffering. In the next week, I had some of the biggest erections I have ever had in my life.

Yet another independence day comes and I already see the Indian tricolour as profile pictures and DPs on social media. I appreciate my compatriots' patriotism (or whatever they believe it is), but I can't help but wonder how many of these people  know their history.  Let's straighten out a few things about our crooked and biased history.  Contrary to popular belief, the revolt of 1857 is NOT India's first war of independence: The Rebellion was nothing but a dogfight between different religions, castes and races. It was a time when: - Hindu and Muslim soldiers feared mass conversion to Christianity. - The "so-called" lower and upper castes fought each other for dominance. - Indian officers fumed over East India company's negligence of seniority and discrimination based on race when it came to offering ranks.  Not to mention the part cows and pigs played in the uprising.  In fact, this dogfight was not even the first unrest against the pillaging East

மனிதம் இனி மெல்லச் சாகும்: நல் தரிகெட்டுத் திரியும் தர்க்கரும்,  சொல் நெறிகெட்டுத் திரியும் பித்தரும்,  புழுத்தின்னும் நிலையற்ற வாழ்க்கையை,  செல்வச் செருக்கொடு களிப்புடன் கழித்திட, தற்குறி அறிவிலி வறியர் என்றும், கிழோர் அழகிலி காடோடி என்றும்,  புனிதனை இழித்துரைத்துப் பழிசுமத்தி,  குழிபுதைத்து அழுக்கென்று ஒழித்திட,  நித்தமும் நர்த்தனம் பயிலும் சொக்கனும்,  அச்சந்தவிர்த்தரவந்தழுவித் துயிலும் அத்தனும், சித்தமும் சொப்பனமாய் கரைந்தோடும்பொழுது, அவர் யாது செய்வதென அறியாது விழித்திட, அகந்தை அகங்காரம் அடங்காமையுடன், வஞ்சமும் பஞ்சமும் தஞ்சம் புகுந்து,  இகழ்ச்சி தாழ்ச்சி பல பேசி சூழ்ச்சியால்,  மதம் பணம் வதைக்க மனிதம் சாகிறது,  தினம் தினம் அதைக் கண்டு மனம் நொந்து,  மெதுவாய் அழிந்து கொண்டிருக்கும் உலகம், நம்மை முழுதாய் விழுங்கும் நாள் கண்டு, காத்திருக்கும் மனிதர்களில் ஒருவன் நான் ! - இளவழுதி  Humanity shall now die: The unruly, the untamed and the unvirtuous, The hypocrite, the amoral and the deceitful, Fill their little precarious maggot-eaten lives, With greed, riches, h

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=448459595260967&set=vb.122797761261424&type=2&theater கடந்த சில நாட்களாக இந்த காணொளி என் நண்பர்களின் சுவற்றை அலங்கரித்துக் கொண்டிருக்கிறது. இவர் சிவா. "E-mail" ஐ கண்டுபிடித்தவர். என் மாவட்டத்தைச் சேர்ந்தவர். நான் மிக்க மகிழ்ச்சியும் பெருமையும் அடைய வேண்டிய செய்தி. ஆனால், இந்த காணொளியை பார்த்த பிறகு எனக்கு இது மிகுந்த வருத்தத்தையே தருகிறது.  இரண்டு காரணங்கள்,  1) படைபவருக்கு சுதந்திரமின்மை - இது புதிதல்ல. எல்லா நாட்டிலும் ஒவ்வொரு விதத்தில் இது இருந்து கொண்டு தான் இருக்கிறது.  2) போலி தேசப்பற்று - இங்கே இவர் கூறவது போல் தன் நாட்டின் மீது இவருக்கு உண்மையிலேயே அக்கறை  இருந்திருந்தால், மூன்றே மாதங்களில் இவர் அமெரிக்க திரும்பி இருக்க மாட்டார். எவ்வளவு தடைகள் வந்திருந்தாலும், தான் நினைத்ததை செய்து காட்டி இருப்பார்.  மாற்றத்தை நீ விரும்பினால், நீயே அந்த மாற்றமாக இரு என்றார் காந்தி. அவர் இந்தியா வந்த பொழுது, ஆங்கிலேயர் நம்மை அடக்கி ஆண்ட காலம். என்னை வழக்கறிஞராக ஆங்கிலேயர் மதிக்கவில்லை என்று அவர் எண்ணியிருந்தால், இன்று அவர் மகாத

A couple of days ago, the Madras high court issued an order that has been the subject of ridicule and mockery on every form of media including the many social networking sites. Some of my friends who like me are highly opinionated have taken to these sites to have a jest at it. Their opinion differs from mine, but that's not what saddens me. What saddens me is that, almost all of their ridicule are based on incomplete information and blatant lies.  First with this case: This story, like any others brought to an Indian court, starts a long time ago. A man and his girlfriend lived together for five years before they separated. The woman bore two children out of this relationship, making our boy their biological-father. But once they separated, the guy stopped paying child support and the woman sought the intervention of the court.  The lower courts ruled out her case stating that the couple weren't legally married and hence the guy wasn't responsible for child care. The

It is not the first time it has happened and it will not be the last. There will be honey traps, there will be CCTV footage, and there will be tapped phone calls. Matches will be rigged and fans will be fooled. Every single time, cricket will lose. So then, what is curious about spot-fixing this time?  As always, bookies were involved. So were call girls, actors, politicians, and the underworld. All the right elements to make a great drama. But the icing on the cake came in form of "towel in the trousers". At first, the idea seems so absurd. Watching the repeat telecasts of it in the media make it look even more crazier. But throw the mongrel in to the mix and the whole thing becomes so fatuous so that it seems possible.  Lot has been said and written about the involved cricketers. Media is out on a mission to slain them, just to sell. The sharks involved are lurking in murky waters too defiant to break surface. And amidst all these men is the avid cricket lover who has b

Life is short. It is unfair. And it will be forgotten ! A thousand years ago, there lived a great king in the southern parts of our country, who  perfected the administrative organisation by creating a strong and centralised machinery, developed an excellent irrigation system to turn a piece of infertility into a rice bowl, established hospitals and infirmaries across the kingdom to aid the ailing, installed a revenue system that eradicated corruption and brought to justice defaulting landlords and most of all, insisted on charity and forbearance.  That is not all. If his administrative achievements were  meritorious, his military accomplishments were simply exemplary. When he assumed throne, his kingdom was restricted to parts of present day Tamil Nadu. But when he died, he died a mighty emperor reigning over all of South east Asia, the first one to do so. Present day Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, Andaman, Lakshadweep,  Srilanka and  parts of Karnataka, Orrisa, Bengal, Mala

They are not an uncommon sight. Often, we run into them at roadside restaurants, small coffee shops and mobile eateries. To earn a living, t hey put up with abusive bosses.  They bear the brunt of customer's rage and frustration.   They work long hours, but take home low salaries. They clean only to be wiped out later.  Even in a crowded place, they are not very easy to miss - the middle-aged men who dispose our drunken cups, dirtied plates and used banana leaves in the many hotels that fills our streets. Take a close at them. Not much separates them from our fathers. They are of the same age, they share the love for their kids and most of all, they both are trying to survive in this unfair world.  Not long ago, I met such a man at an eat-out.  He was tall, lean, and drawn. His clothes, an old-fashioned loose-fitting chequered shirt and a not-so-desirable polyester trousers, did not do any favour to his haggard looks. However, his hair, typical of the past, was well oiled and

Yesterday, after a very long time, I visited a barber shop for a haircut and a shave. My experience there induced me to write this article. And when I talk of experience, I do not mean the duel my hair had with the blade. Though I would love to talk about it for it was the first time my hair met with clean scissors and combs, I would like to keep that for a later article.  You might ask, 'What else could someone experience at the barbers other than knives and dyes?' Well, a lot a really.  When I stepped into the shop at seven in the evening, it was infested with men most of whom sported long unkempt hair and messy beards. Two were already under the knife and two more were in queue. As I waited for my turn, I found myself watching a Telugu movie which featured Hansika or rather a Hansika movie which happened to be shot in Telugu. I bothered neither the dialogues nor the other actors.  About half an hour passed and the two who were before me in the queue were now in the bar