The TAM-BRAHM wedding

Selected as BlogAdda's Tangy Tuesday pick, August 2nd 2011(click here to know more)

I hate attending marriages. I find them the most painfully boring way to spend your time and the only reason, I assume, for most people to grace these “occasions” is because they were coerced (or threatened). My parents have given up asking me to attend marriage functions and somewhere, I believe, they feel my pain.

So when Dharani, my friend from UK, informed that she would be coming down to Chennai to attend the marriage of her cousin, I could sense danger. My mind is designed to be on the auto pilot mode at such times and involuntarily it started digging into its gargantuan repository of excuses. However, it turned out that Mayank, another friend from school, whom I haven’t met for ages was coming along too and so, for the sake of friendship, I had to do the inevitable. Drama!

In Tamil Nadu, like in most of India, caste plays a major role in society. At the top of the hierarchy is the Tamil Brahman/Brahmin and they are the most revered of the lot. They are thought to be conservative, educated, good looking, egoistic and serve the best “pure” vegetarian food at their weddings. The conservative = boring equation was the major deterrent but it was defeated by the “best food” (so what it was vegetarian) and the friends factor.

So when I was invited to the “Sri Kuchalambal Kalyana Mahal” (the venue), I gulped and hoped that food was served early.

The caricature at the wedding

I was met with a pleasant surprise at the entrance, where I saw a caricature(see pic) of the married couple in their traditional attire zooming away on a bike which I thought was “Oh so cool”. I later found out that it was made by the bride.

I met my friends and almost immediately we were engrossed deep in conversation. I totally forgot about the marriage I was dreading. On the occasional glance towards the stage, I saw a  familiar sight, one which I have witnessed through the ages. A heavily “decorated” bride stood beside the “suited up” groom (so what if it’s a Chennai summer), starving and sweating it out, forcing a constant smile while a spotlight enough to light up a basketball court was aimed directly at their face. Like this was not enough, the entire ordeal was recorded by still and motion cameras in an almost sadistic manner.    

This agony would continue till the hundreds (and in some cases thousands) of guests slowly walk up the stage, wish them well, give the gift (which they probably received at some other function), adjust the Saree a thousand times before finally clicking a picture and heading off the stage.

Our constant jabbering was interrupted by a sudden murmur in the hall. Was dinner served? No. It turned out that the “torture session” had ended and the groom had the microphone in his hand. This usually never happens because, unlike shown in the movies, the Indian groom is almost as shy as the bride, if not more. The groom got a guitar and started singing for the audience. It was followed up by a well rehearsed and choreographed dance performed by the cousins of the couple to popular foot tapping Hindi and Tamil Numbers and ended with a romantic duet by the couple themselves to the song, “pehla nasha”, which got the audience clapping and hooting; with a few jaws dropping too.

Wait a second? Wasn’t this supposed to be the most conservative of conservative marriages, almost like the apogee of conservativeness? Whatever happened to the whole “couples should not meet before the marriage or the heavens will fall” ritual? Here, they were actually performing an Indianised, Bollywood version of a fairly romantic ball dance which I’m quite sure they didn’t rehearse over Skype. After the initial shock, I was beginning to enjoy myself and this was nothing like I expected. I turned to my friends and told them, “Guys! This is actually fun”. That’s when I got to know that a lot of "traditional" marriages these days were getting innovative and enjoyable (how long was I in hibernation?).

After the dose of entertainment, it was time for what I was looking forward to the most – the food. This was as traditional as it could get: long rows of tables with chairs only on one side, set in such a way so as to discourage any social interaction and in turn ensuring one gives their entire undivided attention to the considerable number of delicacies strewn on a coconut leaf being served by men, each of whom is referred to by the name of the item they are serving. 

Standard conversation at the scene (translated):

Man serving Sambar asking the man serving rice: "Dai, whare is Rasam Da?"

Rice man replying: "He was with Vadai sometime back. Ask payasam. Maybe he would know".

At the end of it, you don’t even get time to sit and relish your meal as there would already be someone pulling your chair from behind, giving you a not so subtle hint that you need to get your ass off the chair ASAP.

With the traditional tambrahm elaisaapadu (Banana leaf food)

 Satisfied and full, we went back to the main hall for our next shock. We were informed that there was a DJ waiting and that the floor at “Sri Kuchalambal Kalyana Mahal” would soon be open for a dance party. DJs at Punjabi weddings are almost a norm but at a Tamil Brahmin wedding was unthinkable. There just seemed to be no end to the surprises. The super traditional marriage hall whose walls were scattered with pictures of Gods, Goddesses and Gurus at every conceivable free space was going to turn into a nightclub?

Initially, the DJ got a lukewarm response with only a few deciding to take to the floor, mostly the cousins of the couple who performed initially. Honestly, it wasn't a real surprise as the audience didn't really comprise of people you associate with dancing and DJs, perhaps a Carnatic music concert. Boy, was I wrong. Things started changing in a matter of a few tracks as the DJ switched from “Jumma chumma de de” to “Bachna ae haseeno”. Dharani decided to leave us and join the rest at the dance floor while Mayank and I just stood shocked.

A bit of cajoling and pursuing did the trick and soon the dance floor was brimming with people of all age groups. All hell broke loose when the Sheilas started getting jawaan and the Munnis badnaam. Yes, all this and more at the Sri Kuchalambal Kalyana Mahal. It soon went international when Akon’s hit number, Sexy bitch’s cleaner version, sexy chic (thankfully, otherwise it would have been too much too take) started playing and it went on and on as my friend and I gaped and gawked like fools. Never in my life before have I seen so many jasmine embellished heads dancing to David Guetta and the likes.

As the DJ announced the last song, the crowd booed and pleaded for an encore like at any popular nightclub. Young, old, conservative – doesn’t matter; the universal fact is that everybody enjoys having a good time. I’m not sure if this particular TAM BRAHM marriage reflects a trend but I had a ball of a time. Right from the caricature at the beginning to the DJ at the end, my expectations couldn’t have been more off the mark. This is one of the very few marriages, I don’t repent attending.

The curse of the stereotype - The North Indian Vs South Indian Debate

Selected as Blogadda's "Spicy Saturday Pick" on July 9, 2011

The last few months have been tough on me, thanks to my god forsaken working hours. I’ve been asked to work in the morning shift which requires me to leave home at 6:30 AM EVERY SINGLE DAY. If you think it’s no big deal, then you must be a nerd or an insomniac. Interestingly, this post is on stereotypes.

The morning shift does have its share of advantages, like for instance, it has ensured that I don’t skip my breakfast anymore and it’s my favourite meal of the day. This post is the result of a conversation that transpired during one such breakfast while I was busy dipping my 106^th Dosa* in the 173^rd bowl of Sambar**.

*Dosa includes all varities of Dosas/Uthappams/Pesarattu which may or may not include Masala/Onion/Podi/Ghee.

**statistics for the period of April 1^st – June 25^th 2011

Pic1 ) Dosa - My staple diet today

My company for breakfast is usually project mates, most of them my seniors by 2-3 years and all natives of Tamil Nadu. While I was busy chomping into my Onion Podi Uthappam (my personal favourite) someone spoke in English. I stopped chewing midway, shocked at the atrocity of the event, and looked up dumbfounded to find the brave one who had the courage to break the unspoken protocol by talking in an alien language. He was talking to me; it had to be me considering that I was the only non-Tamil speaking person (amongst the all English speaking people) on that table; how stupid of me.

And the conversation went something like this,

My senior asks, “Hey, what do you do on weekends?”

Pic 2) Caught unaware

“Ummhh??!!” is all I could manage thanks to my mouth being full and also taken aback by surprise at being spoken to in English.

“On weekends; what do you do?” he says again, altering the question a bit, helping me understand the seemingly innocuous statement.

Still a little taken aback, I replied, “Hmmm well the usual weekend chilling out. Hang out with friends, movies, good food, etc; nothing specific or out of the ordinary”.

He didn’t seem too convinced; he gave me a wry smile, nodded his head and got back to his Dosa. I was getting curious here. After a pause for about 10 seconds, I finally decide to ask the golden question.

“Why?”

And the answer came almost immediately,

“Well I have often seen North Indian guys out with girls on their bikes on weekends. So was just curious”.

I did not see this coming. To keep things on the lighter side, I asked him,

“Why? What do South Indian guys do on weekends?”

He promptly replied, “We just look at them (the North Indian couples)”.

We had a nice laugh over his witty reply and got back to our dosas but I couldn’t get that statement out of my head. It wasn’t intended to be hurtful or malicious; it was plain curiosity, at least in this case it was. The senior who asked the question is genuinely a very nice person who is extremely helpful and nice to everybody around. Blame it on the stereotypes which are sometimes so strong that people mistake it for universal truth.

In my 5 years at Chennai, I’ve witnessed one of the strongest stereotypes with practical implications; the North Indian – South Indian divide. I am a Punjabi, born and brought up in Hyderabad, my mom’s family is from Bangalore and I have spent a considerable time there and of course, my stint with Chennai. So that makes me believe that I am as much a North Indian as I am South Indian and that qualifies me to talk about this highly controversial and sensitive issue with an unbiased point of view because I believe I understand both sides better than most.

This divide is by no way a new trend; it goes way back in time. The language barrier, unique customs and limited interstate migration resulted in a lack of understanding about each other which in turn was the genesis of these stereotypes. South Indians were perceived to be conservative, ugly and detached by their “countrymen” up North while the Southern “brothers” thought the “Northies” were flamboyant, immoral and were not as blessed in the grey area department.

However, at this juncture I’d like to point out that amongst the three Dravidian cities (Bangalore, Chennai & Hyderabad) I have stayed in, I’ve felt this divide the most in Chennai. Interestingly, many North Indians refer to South Indians as “Madrasi” (from Madras). So is this more of a North Indian – Tamilian issue?

Hyderabad and Bangalore have had a comparatively more cosmopolitan environment with majority of the population having no qualms speaking English or Hindi in addition to their local language. So that way, if someone from these cities went up North, they wouldn’t have a problem and the North Indians coming to these cities would also feel at home. However, Chennai was never too hospitable in welcoming a foreign language, especially Hindi, and it always treated it suspiciously(read more). 

Was the government right in imposing Hindi as a national language in spite of knowing that Hindi wasn’t spoken in many of the Indian states? Had someone in the government given a thought to the repercussion of their actions, we could have probably avoided this scenario. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be.

Let’s make things a little black and white and go back in time to the good old retro days, to the point in time where I “believe” these "North-South" sentiments would have first emanated.

Note: The forthcoming flashback is completely a work of fiction conjured by the hyperactive imagination of the author.

Murugan Swamy decided to spread his coconut empire up North and chose to make a trip to Delhi while Sukhwinder Singh thought it would be a good idea to give Chennai a taste of tandoori chicken. These were otherwise novel business ideas that went haywire and it was utter chaos all around; each experienced a culture shock and witnessed a life style so disparate from their own. In addition, no native individual would have been able to explain to the visitors about their culture and beliefs, thanks to the limitations of the tongue. This might have caused these gentlemen to do what each one of us loves doing, forming an opinion with hardly any substance. This handicap limited the understanding of their “strange” neighbours and their way of life and would have resulted in a highly erroneous judgement of the other.

Now Murugan anna would go to akka and Sukhwinder paaji would go back to babhi and tell them about the “strange” people they met. Since these were times well before twitter, women were the fastest mode of broadcasting information. News passed family to family and each time there was a little “tadka” (spices in hot oil) added and soon a stereotype so strong was born that even years of education, migration and breaking of the language barrier would still not be able to neutralize the impact.

H.G. Wells could not have put it better (and of my all time favourite quotes)

“Crude classifications and false generalizations are the curse of the organized life”.

It is understandable when people who aren’t educated and who haven’t travelled enough develop such perceptions over the years.  The disturbing fact is that a lot of educated folks also have similar beliefs, in spite of being a nation that together celebrated the World Cup victory.

A lot of it has also to do with the kind of upbringing one has; parents play a very important role in shaping the child’s thinking process. If a child is raised in a household which has strong communal and regional tendencies, more often than not, the child grows up to have similar beliefs. So it is important that one makes their judgements based on facts and not prejudice. 

Maybe the next time you make a generalization about a person, gender or community, I urge you to think twice and help bringing us closer to being a more open, tolerant and loving nation.

Jai Hind.

3) Together we make life colorful.

 Disclaimer: The opinions here are based on my experiences and there is absolutely no need for you to have to agree with me and I’d love to hear your point of view, however disparate it might be. Those of you, who do agree with me, help me out if someone who doesn’t, comes to break my head. Peace.

Photo credits:

1)        http://www.facebook.com/pages/trying-to-expain-something-to-someone-while-your-mouth-is-stuffed-with-food/341683684185

2)        http://www.redbubble.com/people/rakeshsyal/art/3644769-unity-in-diversity

3)        http://tiffography.com/?p=578

The autos of Chennai...

Chennai has become an unexpected second home. I spent 4 years of my college life here and today, I have my first job in the same city. So my love affair with Chennai has been on for 5 solid years and going strong. Do I like the place? Surprisingly, I do. I like a lot of things about this metro but there are certain aspects that irk me. The heat, humidity, people staring at you for no reason at all, making you feel like an orang-utan that has just escaped from the zoo, are a few that I can think of now. But what tops my list, is the autos of Chennai.

Watch out! Here they come.

 I wasn't a big fan of the autos in Hyderabad either. I felt they were rude, irrational, abused too much, would pester you to pay 10 Rupees over what the meter showed and spat a lot. It's only after I came to Chennai did I realise how much I missed my Hyderbadi autos.

The meters might not look like this but
they function the same way.

I'm lost on where to start about the Chennai autos and am a little worried that the list would go too long for your liking. So I'm going to control my emotions and be as sophisticated as possible in handling it. Bloody #*^*%#*^. Yeah! That feels better.

For starters, autos in Chennai don't run on meters. Is there a regulatory body that takes care of pricing? No. Then how do you decide how much to pay? It varies day by day, driver by driver, and circumstance by circumstance. If a driver’s wife has been pestering him to buy her a Saree for a while and he decides to purchase it on the day you are travelling with him, then boy are you in for some serious trouble. You, the customer have got no control on how much you pay. It's solely dependent on their whims and fancy. To make matters worse, irrespective of the destination, it is customary, almost habitual for them to quote a price 5 times the actual cost and it has to be a 3 digit figure. 

The negotiation.

But what takes the cake, is the negotiation process to fix a price, that takes place every time you want to hire an auto. Plus, if you don’t know Tamil (the local language) or look like you’re from out of town, then god bless you.

Ideal scenario (like what happens in any other “normal” place):

Passenger: Auto!

Auto screeches to a halt.

Passenger: Take to me to somerandomplace.

Driver: Okay/ No.

THE END.

THE Chennai Scenario – (Non-Tamilian passenger):

Passenger: Auto!

Auto screeches to a halt, right in the centre on the road. This is followed by a vigorous to and fro motion of the clenched fist with the thumb pointing skywards which means, “Where do you want to go”?

Passenger (screams): T. Nagar?

Driver: <Puts one hand to his ear and draws his tongue out making a ridiculous, monkey like expression>.

This when interpreted to any “human” language would mean that the driver failed to hear, thanks to the million vehicles behind him honking so mercilessly. They should realize that he is busy and trying to have a conversation. Insensitive lot!

Passenger (screams louder): Teeeeeee Nagar.

This time he hears it and comes over to the side of the road since the destination is worth going to. He gets out, ready for action.

Driver: T Nagar aaah?? (In Chennai, “aah” is the phonetic representation of the symbol “?”, like I have already mentioned in my post – My foray into the corporate world-post prologue )

Passenger:  Yeah!

Driver: T-Nagar blah blah blah? (This is followed by yet another vigorous to and fro motion of the clenched fist. This gesture means he wants to know where exactly in T-Nagar).

Passenger (composed): Anna. Sheraton towers. You go? (You have to talk this way to get them to understand).

Driver: Tower park aaah?? Anna Nagar aah?? (He points to the moon, which is to indicate that the place is really far away. An experienced passenger would know that this means he is mentally preparing you for a major loot)

Passenger (little less composed): Ille ille!! (no no!!) Sheraton towers. Hotel anna. Big hotel. T Nagar only.

Driver: Oooooohhhhhh!!! (He just had an Eureka moment plus the clothes, thankfully). Seri seri, polam. (come come, let’s go)

Then he casually goes into his auto and revs it up to show he is ready to go. This is the tricky part. If you haven’t dealt with the autos in Chennai, REMEMBER – NEVER GET INTO AN AUTO WITHOUT DECIDING ON A PRICE.

Passenger (still composed): Wait! Evalo?? (How much??)

He still keeps revving and looking dead straight, acting deaf.

The irked passenger taps the driver’s shoulder and asks

Passenger (kinda losing it): ANNA!! Tell evalo first.

Driver: You tell.

Passenger (still keeping the cool): No you tell.

Driver: Okay fine. <thinks> Give me 250 Rupees.

Passenger (frustration begins to creep in): 250???? What anna? 60 Rupees correct.

Driver: <More hand gestures follows to tell the passenger that he is crazy and out of his mind> 60 Rupees aah? Fine 240.

Passenger: 80 final.

Refuses and gets back into his auto ready to leave. Just as he starts his auto, he asks.

Driver: Final 150.

Passenger refuses and starts walking away.

Driver watches the passenger take 7 steps.

Driver: <SCREAMS> Saaaaaarrrr!!!  COME!!! 140 last.

Passenger (Pissed off now): 100 Rs final price Anna.

Driver: Come saar. Wokay (read okay).

Passenger (Kinda relieved) comes back

Driver: Come saaar. Sit. 130.

Passenger ( Loses it): What nonsense!

Driver: Okay 120 final.

Passenger (getting desperate): Fine!

THE END.

If the passenger is lucky, he would get dropped to the destination of his choice and for the same price agreed. If you think he got quite a bargain, you must know that the meter wouldn’t have read anything more than 50-55 Rs. That is how pathetic the auto situation in Chennai is and I wish you never have to go through this agony.

For the last 5 years, I have been overspending on these merciless yellow machines of Chennai like so many others. Their misdemeanours are no secret and they break rules with impunity. You try arguing or fighting back and they gather 10 other auto drivers and end up bullying you. Backed by powerful unions who are politically connected gives them the power to openly break the laws and do as they please.

During the course of writing this post, I came across numerous news paper articles and blogs which talk about this problem and inaction on the part of the government. Going by the track record of Tamil Nadu politics, which is perhaps the most corrupt in the country, no respite can be expected.  

And as usual, the common man suffers in silence.

Self explanatory.

Photo sources:

http://shaluhere.wordpress.com/2010/01/27/chennai%E2%80%99s-auto-rickshaw/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/13657368@N00/2492735468/

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Chennai/article799375.ece?homepage=true

http://totalgadha.com/tgtown/360degree/2010/01/16/chennai-auto-rickshaw-a-potential-gold-mine-for-banking-financebfsi-sector/

ENDHIRAN (THE ROBOT)-THE MADNESS UNLEASHED

....Continued from Endhiran (Robot)- The build up

Chennai wouldn’t sleep tonight.

But I did.

As I lay peacefully in my bed having some weird dreams, the true hard core Rajni fans were up and getting ready to go for a movie. The fanatics were up all night bursting crackers, singing, dancing and raising a toast to their God in their usual style, in a plastic tumbler with cheap rum and a banana to go with it. The wait for the movie and the alacrity that comes with it is more fun than the movie itself.

The celebration went on till 4 am - the time for the first show.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t go to such a theatre to witness these scenes but from what I hear, the atmosphere inside is like that of a cricket stadium rather than a movie hall. You wouldn’t get to hear a thing but the entertainment provided otherwise is totally worth it.

The Rajni craze- A garland of sweet lime

I reach office at 2 PM and meet guys who have already seen the movie twice. Half of Chennai had apparently not come to work today. I just couldn’t contain my excitement. It was Friday and I still had 2 days to go for my movie. I decided not to work and celebrate Rajnikanth.

I had the audacity to tell my HR head that I wasn’t going to work that day because I was excited about Endhiran. Instead of being reproached, he asked me, “You got tickets?” Proudly, I respond, “Yeah, Sunday” to which my HR head says, “That’s so sad! I got tickets for tonight”. The conversation went on for 10 more minutes, much to the shock of my colleagues and trainer.

You see the magic? Thinking about it now, I don’t even know where I got that kind of courage from.

Through the day, I kept hearing stories of hardcore fans and their antics, each more crazy than the previous.

I was getting restless and I am getting restless now so I’m skipping my painful wait and coming straight to THE SUNDAY, my turn to watch Endhiran.

Sunday morning...

The Chennai shared auto

FINALLY the day was here! Excitement was at its prime. M and I got ready and left well before time. Or so we thought. Just as we started, we encountered our first speed breaker - Chennai traffic decided to play party pooper. To make matters worse, we were aboard a shared taxi (the first mode of public transport that came our way), those weird looking vehicles that gives every indication of being a cross between an auto and a mini bus but moves at the speed of a bullock cart. We wouldn’t make it on time. Nothing was going right and it wasn’t a good feeling. All the anticipation, excitement, hype, extra money spent and finally ending up late for the movie seemed just wrong.  

The most exciting part of a Rajni movie is the start, right from the censor board certificate followed by the animated entry of the letters to form the word S-U-P-E-R-S-T-A-R and finally the super dramatic entry of Rajnikanth himself amidst cheers, screams and flying lungis. I really wanted to witness this.

If we continued by the shared auto, reaching the theatre on time was next to impossible, so we got off half way through and decided to hire our very own, personal auto (which is quite a luxury in Chennai).

I ask him, “Anna. Satyam?” (That’s all that is needed to get the message across). The driver gives a nod. “Evalo?” (How much?). He starts with Rs 220 and finally agrees for Rs 40 and we are off (those of you who find this weird, this is how autos in Chennai function. Meters are for aesthetics).

We were still well behind schedule, hope was fast running out and right then M uttered the magic words, “Anna. Sheegram go (Fast go). Movie. Endhiran. Rajnikanth”. I swear to God, everything went into slow motion for the next 20 seconds. Slowly, frame by frame, the auto driver turned to look at us, didn’t say a word and smiled. The smile said it all. In slow motion he turned back to drive, locked the fingers of his hand and made that crackling sound (even that in slow motion), kut kut kut one by one, and that’s when we snap out of the slow motion and also, everything else changed.

Like a man possessed, he revved his engine and drove at a speed that would qualify the auto to race at a formula 3 event. Probably the auto was a Rajni fan too. No obstacle was too big and no turn was too sharp for the driver since he was in charge of the holy duty of making sure we made it in time for the movie of his God. However, we still needed a miracle if we had to reach on time. I did something really strange (I shit you not and I swear this is not made up). I held my hands together (in the Namaste position) and prayed out loud to Rajni (half as a joke and half out of pure desperation). Taking cue, M did the same.

Three minutes left for the movie to start and we were almost there. My other friends were already in the theatre waiting for us. We could actually make it on time. Was this going to be a miracle? One minute to go and I was actually wondering if the driver in his excitement wouldn’t take the money and say that it was just a part of his duty. We reached with 30 seconds to go and driver seemed to lose all the brotherhood and asked for his money. What was I thinking? Anyway, we paid up and rushed towards the theatre hoping that we don’t miss much.

Inside, I see my other friends walking casually towards me. Have they gone crazy? Don’t they want to witness the spectacle at the start? Exasperated, I ask D, “Dude! Why the hell are you out? Hasn’t the movie started already? D starts smiling and realization dawns as I ask, “What time does the movie really start?” and a smiling D responds, “10 more minutes’ macha. I knew you would be late”.

I was annoyed and relieved; and at the same time I couldn’t help but wonder about the prayers we offered in the auto. I didn’t have much time to think about that as we walked towards the screen. We had made it. In a few minutes I was going to experience a movie experience like no other.

No, I wouldn’t describe what went on inside since a Rajnikanth movie on the weekend of its release should definitely be on your “things I need to do before I die” list. It's like a holy pilgrimage that each of you must be a part of at least once in your life time. And for your sake, I hope Rajnikanth makes another movie. If not, my condolences.

If Christopher Nolan could do it in Inception, so can I. So swear all you want, I know the feeling. I did the same after inception. 

Adios 

ENDHIRAN (ROBOT) - The build up

Rajnikanth's giant cut out at Sky Walk Mall, Chennai

It is impossible for one to reside in Chennai and not get carried away with the Rajnikanth mania. People, in Tamil Nadu and around, wait with alacrity for a Rajni movie to arrive because each movie brings with it a carnival-like atmosphere and electrifies a rather dull city (I’m sorry, but it’s true).

A Rajni movie is not like any regular movie. It’s an event, like the Olympics, and the entire state of Tamil Nadu starts preparing for it months before its release. That’s why I compared it to the Olympics and not the Commonwealth Games. The momentum builds with every passing day and is soon reflected in local newspapers, radio channels and conversation. However, it’s the numerous banners by fan clubs on every street that tell you something big is on its way. Most of these banners are freakishly similar and have a large picture of Rajni in the centre, accompanied by the president and vice-president of the fan club on either side, looking petrified just to be on the same banner as the great man.

The excitement in the air was palpable. It wasn’t long before I got caught up in the hype.  I wanted to be a part of the festivities. I was suddenly a fan of Rajnikanth. I had seen just one movie of his before – Shivaji, and I thought it was one of the most ridiculous movies ever. Then what was happening to me? I had no control of my mind and body. I was suddenly supporting the man in all discussions. I took offence to Rajni jokes. I started hanging out with my Tamil brothers and discussing about the thailavar and his greatness. This was Rajni mania taking over.

Two weeks to go, articles and news snippets on Enthiran (Robot) and Rajnikanth were a part of every national news network. Local TV channels went berserk. Air time was dominated by Rajnikanth. Other producers refused to release their movies. The big day was fast approaching and I wanted to be a part of it.

Like all movies, there was a trailer release around the corner but that shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Wrong. Lesson number one; nothing is normal or “small” when it comes to Rajnikanth. People, in thousands, flocked the theatres to watch the trailer and the theatre owners, definitely smarter and more experienced than me, expecting this had tickets made just for the trailer at insanely high rates for the lunatics to catch a 5 minute glimpse of their hero. Buying a ticket to watch a trailer! Which other actor can demand that? The moolah was already flowing but this was a pocket change compared to the events expected to follow.

My friend D, a man of many contacts, managed to get us tickets, for three times the price of a normal movie ticket, scheduled for the weekend of the movie’s release. A pretty good deal compared to ones shelling out 20-30 times of what they usually would. The ticket became my prized possession. I went about parading my ticket, much to the exasperation of the local boys, who couldn’t get them for the weekend of the movie’s release and would have to watch it on a weekday, which according to local tradition, is a sin. Plus me being a Non-Tamil added fuel to the raging fire.

One day to go. The rich and poor, conservative and liberal, drunk and sober, sane and insane, all join hands, forget their differences and celebrate life and celebrate Rajni, their God. Only one man can create such magic. I won’t digress into Rajnikanth the individual, since that deserves nothing short of a book, or books perhaps. Firecrackers and poojas are on at full swing and people can’t wait for THE DAY to arrive. Theatres have shows scheduled from 4am onwards and that each of these shows was sold out came as no surprise. Everybody wanted to be the first to see the man in action.

People were willing to spend any kind of money to go that extra mile to prove their loyalty. Tickets were being bought at exorbitant rates, some even willing to spend 50-60 times the price of an original ticket. The money caught my attention. All the, “I love Rajnikanth” suddenly disappeared and the opportunist in me woke up. A 1000% return on investment was guaranteed and was tempting as hell.

But I didn’t do it because D had to go through a lot to get the tickets and I didn’t want the effort to go down the drain. Plus he threatened to break my head if I did, so that was another factor.  In addition to the tickets, even the milk used in the pooja was being sold at Rs 500/- per glass and people were lined up buy that. INSANE! This was the sign; Rajni mania had hit the city, and boy did it hit hard. People lost all sense of rationality and pure emotions took over. Just a few hours to go.

Chennai wouldn’t sleep tonight.

Author’s note:

To do justice to this post and to the aura of Rajnikanth, I am splitting this post into 2 parts. The release and my movie experience are worthy of a separate post.


Click here to read the next part...