ID - a short story

I really wonder whether this place will be of any help to my fellow beings. I have to tell this to the “Gentleman with the overcoat” who hosts a television debate show about mundane and trivial things so that he gets another interesting topic to fight about.

Now you may wonder what place I’m talking about?

Let me give you a clue. This is where people drain their wallets and this is the place that epitomises the spendthrift of my people.

Did you get it? I think you would have.

Yes. It’s the Shopping Mall.

I’m watching kids, couples of all ages, teen boys and girls roaming the floors of Vijaya Forum Mall in Vadapalani, Chennai.  Most of them do something called ‘Window Shopping’ and there were more than a few who actually did shop there. I watch them all sitting inside the vegetarian restaurant ID, waiting for a friend, who is working in this mall as a consultant. His office is situated on the top floor of the mall. So I felt that meeting him here would be better for both of us. In my case the advantage is the proximity to my home.

Of all the restaurants in this mall, ID is my favourite. I've a lot of memories associated with it too. This restaurant is not frequented by young couples, who prefer the posh cushions of Cafe Coffee Day. What you find here is mostly pot bellied uncles adorning either a salt and pepper hair or a vacant space on their heads, with their families.

While I sit here, my mind invariably goes back to the last time I sat inside this restaurant. It was a Saturday morning when I sat in one of the two seater tables with my girlfriend discussing the ways to make our parents accept this relationship. The positivity in her tone still reverberates inside my head and I didn't have the least idea that it was going to be our last vis-a-vis conversation before the severing of the relationship (breakup is too cliched). I don’t want to go into the details of why it came to an end.

Now to more important things. I would like to say something about the person I'm about to meet. At 6 ft 1" with a square shaped face, which will always be cleanly shaved without a hint of a stubble and sporting a square rimmed spectacles with a flat abdominal region, he was simply a heartthrob for many. A walk down the corridor with him and the unmistakable stares and ogles at him would definitely make that a forgettable walk for the person next to him. No prizes for guessing who that unfortunate soul would have been!  The embarrassing moment was when people enquire about him. But I was extremely confident that he would never fall for someone. Why? Simply because he thinks too highly of himself. The narcissism would render it impossible for him to accept that he has fallen for someone. Well, that's what I thought until he said, "I'm in love".

I didn’t want to sit idle until his arrival. So I ordered a cup of tea. My cup would have been half empty when a giant of a figure walked to the table I was sitting and boisterously shouted, "Hello Sir" and hugged me, while I made no move to get up. "How long it's been since we met!"

Well I comprehended the rhetoric to be a question and replied "2 years". To save me the blushes, he laughed loudly, attracting the attention of the fellow diners and said "That long!"

"So, how are you?" I asked him.

Before giving me a reply, he points his index finger at the waiter and then at the glass indicating it to be filled with water. I bent my head down, looking at the half empty cup feeling angry at his gesturing, which could have been at the very least polite. I then repeated the question, for which his left hand produced a thumbs up while his right hand was holding the glass gulping down the water. All I could manage was a fake smile.

When he repeated the same question to me, all I could do was to put on the same smile I produced earlier.

"How is work? You are still in the same job?" he enquired.

"Fortunately or unfortunately I'm not really sure but yes, I'm still with the same company" I replied sidestepping the first question on how my work was.

"You are still the same." Said he with a glee on his face and continued, "Giving a cynical reply for a normal question".

Now I couldn't help but smile at that and appreciated him for the excellent catch on the cynic part.

Then he asked me, "You aren't thinking about moving on to another job?"

This is one of the several questions you have to endure if you happen to work in an Indian Information Technology company. For many in my industry, “Promotion, Onshore assignments, Job switching” is equivalent to “Liberté, égalité, fraternité”. Those are the means through which a common denominator called “Salary hike” can be achieved. When such a question is posted, one has to deftly handle it in such a way that the conversation gets over with our answer. Sadly without realising the trap I'm setting foot in, I replied, "Yeah I should but I am unable to decide what I want in life"

That is all the impetus he needed. The sermons that followed ranged from how the job market is today to how difficult it is to pass through an interview. He added one or two lines about how I'm wasting my life, given the talent I possess and more sentences on how he is in his third organisation in three years. Since his answer included everything about his work, I didn't bother asking him about it. Amidst the lecture about the job market, start up ventures of his acquaintances, he ordered two plates of masala dosa.

When I was quite relieved that a perilous conversation was over, he sowed the seed for another. "You are still single or" he paused and put a mocking smile on his face and said, "into any relationship?"

"Nothing at present".

“So there was something in the past, isn’t it?”

How can I not applaud his analytical skills. Even the most ingenious mind wouldn’t have cracked that.

“You got me” I said lifting my hands in the form of a mock surrender. What happened next was something I didn’t expect to happen.

“Are you serious? You really had a girl?”

When I nodded and mouthed the name of the girl, his smiling face turned into one that emanated envy for a fleeting moment.

Wait a minute.

This man, who was the heartthrob of many in my college is actually jealous of me? This is definitely not what I thought would be his reaction. Honestly I couldn’t control my laughter but did the chuckling within myself.

“Its her huh. But why did you...?” Words failed to come out of his mouth.

“It’s a long story. I would prefer not to get into that conversation!”

He could have stopped it there but continued, “What crap are you talking about? What’s your problem in telling me?”

Here I did another blunder. “Why are you so interested in poking your nose into another person’s life?” The moment I said that I regretted saying that sentence. Obviously as expected he was taken aback by that riposte. I immediately apologized and said the truth, “I’m sorry. I don't really wanna talk about what happened between us!”

He was looking at me with the look of a man who is staring at an alien. I could've either lied about what happened between us, taking a cue from every romantic movie on earth or could've told the truth. But the complication is whether either of the versions would satisfy him. He might start probing me further to bring out the truth. I looked at him to see if his reaction has changed but his gaze and silence remained the same.

I could have left it there but I continued my madness in the following confession. “OK. Stop it. I’ll tell you the truth. I simply got scared that she'd leave me and didn’t want to end up with a broken heart. So I told her that the relationship cannot continue. That my dear is my love story!”

Again I expected him to pass a comment on my stupid line of thought but surprisingly his mouth remained closed. I looked at him with inquisitive eyes and waited for his response. But he remained silent deep in thought. All of a sudden he looked at his watch and said, “It's getting late for me, let's catch up some other day” and shook my hands.

This abrupt curtailing of our meeting took me by surprise and made me guilty. I cursed myself for the umbrage. Is that why he left early? Or it could simply be that it was getting late for him or he got offended that the girl who was in a relationship with me had never acknowledged this cupid boy. “That's not possible”, I told myself. I felt that it was definitely a sudden departure and not a calculated one that I would generally associate with him.

So instead of brooding over his departure, I concentrated on having the masala dosa. When my plate had become empty, my mobile phone vibrated to indicate the arrival of a message. I opened it, read it and shut off my phone. I wanted to hit myself hard for meeting him. I wanted to kick myself for not saying a proper negative answer for his question about relationship. At that moment I wanted to throw the glass at someone and then bang my head against the table. If he had been here, I would've additionally wanted to strangle him.

The message read:

“I owe you a lot in life. You are in the same situation that I was in some time back. I know that feeling bro.You both make a terrific couple. I want you two to get back into the relationship. I'll talk to her and get back to you. Don't curse me and don't thank me yet because I owe you this”

What does he owe me? Nothing that I can think of. But still he wants to meddle in my life.

What else did he say? He was in the same situation as me? Whatever his situation was, I have no idea.

My last ditch hope is on her to give him a befitting castigation but for now I don’t feel like responding to him. Instead of involving myself in any of the violent activities like breaking the glass, banging my head, I closed my eyes and let everything sink in and wondered what more is there in store for me. I don’t know if this Shopping mall is good for the people but it’s definitely not for me.

Revolution - a short story

She waited for hours that became days, which in turn became months and on the verge of it becoming an year, came the news that her son has been found. Happiness adorned her face, a smile creeped across her mouth and she felt like jumping up and down in joy.

She looked at the photograph of her husband hanging on the wall and thanked him for bringing their son back to her. How did you find him? Where did you find him? How is he? Zillion questions reverberated inside her head. She wanted to ask all of them to the man who brought her the information that her son has been found. But he never spoke a word.

Why is he not speaking? Is something wrong? She hadn't noticed properly earlier due to the sudden euphoria of the tiding. The man's face was doom and gloom written all over. Perhaps the faces of police men was supposed to be like that. It should never reveal what they feel inside. But this police man doesn't seem to be of the vicious types. It was just that his face exhibited melancholy at that moment, which she interpreted as something that is not right. Something wrong. Terribly wrong. But she did follow him like a faithful dog. Her mind was posing the same questions again and again. Why is he not saying anything? “You must always ask questions”, her husband used to say, “if not people would take you for a ride”. Yes. I must ask questions, she decided. She had the right to know!

Bringing up the courage, she enquired, "You have to tell me what happened to my son!". What was meant to be an enquiry became a pleading request. He turned to look at her with a pitiful face but without comprehending her current predicament and the agony she was going through, he started walking fast, not bothering to give her a reply. All she could do then was to sprint to catch up with him.

Nothing would've happened to him! The sister living next door, a teacher, used to say that positive thinking is essential for your dreams to come true. He would be fine. He'll run to me and hug me tight. All her sadness would sail away like dust the moment he’s within her arms. How amazing it would be if he was still inside her, ready to step into this world, just a baby out of a mother's womb and not someone who had the audacity to vanish. “Oh god, how much have I missed him! Please bring him safe to me!”, a drop of tear accompanied the prayer.  

"It’s those books that corrupted his mind. I should've burnt all of them" she reproached herself. She felt delighted that books could neither disturb her thought process nor destroy her innocence and a lack of reading prowess fantastically left her living in her own utopian world. She believed that the demons and satans in every page of those books were responsible for creating a rogue out of an innocent kid. Probably reading books was responsible for your thoughts to become skewed, else the decision making is always very simple. Choosing between white or black is always a lot simpler until the concept of grey comes into the picture. She remembered how her husband burnt midnight oil, reading those tomes. He had tried to teach her the art of reading, but the world of kitchen was a lot safe & sound for her compared to the demonic letters and words present in those books.

Her son too attempted it by showing a books written by some Russian writers and often repeats the word “revolution” while talking. Standing in the entrance to the kitchen with a plate in hand, he used to say, "Maxim Gorky's protagonist in his book Mother is just like you, but she actively participated in the revolution", to which her reply had been, " Is it?". She wanted to know what is meant by revolution but she never bothered to ask him because it just wasn't her cup of tea. "Reading makes you knowledgeable", her husband used to say. But she always wanted to ask him, "Why do I need that knowledge?"

Her legs were tired from the sprint. She called out to the police man, "Please Sir! You're way too fast. I'm unable to cope with your speed!". She promised him that she won't be asking any question about her son. He nodded back. How different their life would've been if he had been a normal child!

She remembered the day her son took centre stage in a meeting and spoke about liberating the wealth from the bourgeoisie and giving it to the common folk. She had felt delighted despite not understanding what he spoke. He was gifted with the eloquence of his father, who had cried for the liberation from the tyranny of foreigners. "He's just like his father!" That thought made her feel happy and sad at the same time. Her son possessed the same charisma that can captivate the crowd and the cogency too which had forced the teacher living next door to be on her feat when he ended his speech.  When the whole village was eulogizing her son, alarm bells had started ringing inside her.  

After her husband's death, the last thing she wanted was to lose another family member to some stupid social cause, let alone her own son.She was scared that a day like this was anytime possible. The people of this village, town and even country don’t deserve people like her husband and Son. They praise you first and then cast you aside later. How nice if you had been like the countless kids who don’t worry about the frailties of the world! Amidst her reverie, where her son was raising his fist to the crowd, commanding all their applause and channelizing the commotion below,  her destination had arrived.

The building was an old and dilapidated structure, that she felt could become just rubbles any time soon. But it was not the police station, that he has brought her to. What are they doing to her son there? The moment she realised that it wasn’t the police station, her heart had started to beat faster. It could’ve been due to the fear of whatever tragic news awaited her inside.

When she entered it, her apprehension got doubled because of the deluge of masculine creatures out there. The policeman who had accompanied her, asked her to be seated on a bench. To alleviate her nervousness, she tried to divert her mind to something else. But the fear of what might have happened to her son, made sure that the nervousness continued. She looked around the interior of the place and it looked like it was abandoned by its residents a long time back. The paint had worn off in several places and cobwebs decorated the place in many corners.

A quarter or half of an hour would have passed, when another tall and well built police man, took her to a room where the chief inspector was seated. "Your son is a spoiled brat" he barked at her the moment she entered. She was taken aback by the bluntness of the words. The square shaped face and thick moustache coupled with the authority and forceful nature of the voice, sent a chill down her spine. Even without the uniform, there was authority and power oozing from every part of his body.

“I should have hanged him for his crimes.” he shouted. Crimes? “He was working with the rebels, writing pamphlets for them! All those words against the government were all his” He threw a rectangular paper at her. She stood stunned staring at the paper. What did he write that made this policeman angry and irritated?

“Sir, I apologize for him”, she stammered to say that.

"Apologies?" laughed the chief with sarcasm and then he blurted, “I need some information from him!”

“What information?” she asked with her voice shaking with nervousness.

"Nothing unusual" replied the chief with a grin on his face. "I need the other outlaws. So ask your son to reveal their whereabouts. I'll release him that very moment" he said. Can I trust him was the first question that came to her mind. The neighbour-friend teacher used to say that policemen are the least trustworthy.

“I’ll talk to him, Sir! But can I see my son now?” asked she, with a tone that was half hesitant and half scared.

At his command, another constable escorted her outside to the same bench where she sat before meeting the chief. The same constable went to fetch her son and came back with him.

He limped to her, with a bruised face and a torso showing the lashes laid out by a stick. Blood flowed from his temple, his torn lips and from the wounds on his cheeks. When he approached her, the beating he received from the brutal policemen was evident all over his body. She understood now the reason behind the sadness on the face of the policeman who accompanied her.

Her son's legs couldn't hold the weight above it. The staggering motion didn't last longer and he fell down in front of her. She rushed to him and with the help of the constable pulled him up. His right hand came right over her shoulder, applying his weight on her. When she sat him down on the bench and sat next to him, his body, tired out of exhaustion, fell down on her lap.

Her mind had felt elated when she knew that her son was alive but seeing him in his current plight made her weep. His eyes kept staring at her, blinking occasionally. His mouth quivered and conveyed something that she couldn't understand. He pulled her hand and kept it close to his cheeks. At that moment it was that little baby that she gave to this world, was right in front of her. The warmth of his mother's hand acted as the comforting medicine to his injuries.

He looked at her with tired eyes and whispered, "What did they ask? Confess the whereabouts of my comrades?"

"Yes"

"I'm very tired. I'll tell them everything, Mother."

The chief Inspector, when he heard all that the prisoner wanted to say, allowed him to go home with his mother. He barked at them and vowed to kill both if the location of the outlaws is found to be a ruse.

One hand over her shoulders, they both walked out from the building. He applied more pressure on her shoulder to take each step. When the building was slowly disappearing behind them, he whispered to her, “I’m sorry, Mother” and he kissed her on the forehead.

All her worries were forgotten in that kiss from her son. She felt like flying high. With tears flowing from her eyes, she reproached him, "Why did you run away without telling me?"

"You wouldn't let me join the rebellion" he smiled at her. That smile. Even in the blood smeared face, his smile shined beautifully. How many women are going to melt because of that smile!

“Mother!”

“Yes”

“I want to apologize for something else too. We cannot go back to our house. From now, these policemen will never allow us to live a peaceful life, especially after what is about to happen here”

“What is going to happen now?” Panic gripped her voice.

From the moment she left her house, her eyes had been fixed on the man she’s following and not the man following her. Now from her vantage, she could make out the tiny figures circling the building. After a while, the first set of gunshots were heard. It couldn’t have lasted long. The tiny figures came running out of the building and in few seconds,  the building was blown to just rubbles.

“What just happened?”

“Revolution, Mother!” he replied calmly staring at the flames rising from the debris.

She wanted to ask him, What have you got yourself into? Where do we go now? Did you realise that I cannot be running with you all the time? Won’t they come back to take your life? Have I got anyone else other than you? But none came out of her mouth. She stared at the building engulfed in fire, probably burning all those policemen - The Chief inspector, the man who escorted her and all the others too. From the bottom of her heart, being a woman possessing the gentlest of souls, she weeped for her son, his comrades and all the men who have and will have to give their life for this revolution. She cried for all the mothers of those would-be martyrs.

The word revolution kept reverberating in her head. She now understood clearly the meaning of it.

Reunion - A Short Story

Gopi’s taste for beauty can never be questioned. He knew the extent to which extravagance was needed to make something beautiful. It could've been an innate quality or something that a civil engineering background could've taught him. He wasn't sure. But he was pretty sure about another dream of his; that was to get closer to his family. Something he wanted very badly.

His kin had always been extremely kind and adoring to his parents until their marriage, after which things hadn't been the same. So reconciliation was the primary task. His father’s last words echoed inside his head, “I've made many mistakes in life, son. The mistakes that I've regretted for, since the day your mother died.” he had said taking in a deep breath struggling to exhale, “You must never repeat those mistakes.” And with that his father had taken that dreaded final breath. I promise you Father! I won’t repeat those mistakes.

After his father’s funeral he started the work. His only regret was that the reunion could've happened a lot earlier had his father confided with him his wish of seeing the family together. It was never late.

Gopi’s paternal side did not have anyone alive but his maternal side had an envious habit of living well into the nineties. His mother’s grandparents lived the life to the fullest until ninety seven and unfortunately had to die, three short of a century. His maternal grandfather too remained very much alive, on the verge of eighties. Sadly his mother and grandmother weren't blessed with the immortality that the lineage had. His mother was the last of the three children to have come out of his grandmother and the only female species among the trio. Gopi didn't want to meet his grandfather first. So he took the bottom up approach. Better to meet the cub than the lion.

The first cub he met was Mr. Sivaraman, the youngest son to his grandfather and the owner of a textile mill. A man nearing his fifties, he was, but the affluence meant that a reduction in age was visible on his face.

“I can never forget the day you mother died.” with sadness evident in his voice and face he said, “I feel very sorry for you!” His wife, who sat next to him, echoed his sympathy for Gopi. There were rumours that it was she, who was the real power center and his uncle was just a robot, playing to her music.

“Father used to say that you were a very kind man”. His uncle’s face stiffened the moment Gopi mentioned his father. But that stiffness had eased very quickly.

“Yes! Yes! Amazing person he was until...” he stopped the sentence abruptly.

“I know, Uncle! I can never correct the sins committed by my parents but I'm not them” he said earnestly. He went on one knee, in front of them and held their hands for a while. He then looked into their eyes and said, “All I have left in this world is my mother’s family. I don’t want to lose all of you”. His voice cracked a little during that moment.

The last sentence had melted Sivaraman and all he saw in that instant was his young sister, whose eyes were about to shed a tear. That was too much to bear for him.

“You’re not you father. You’re more like her, isn't he?” he turned to his wife for approval. She approved it with a nod of head. When he put forward the invitation to dine with him to mark the reunion, his uncle gleefully accepted it, of course after a gaze at his power center, who gave her approval with the same nod of head.

Unlike Sivaraman, the older sibling was more hesitant to accept the olive branch that he was offering. A broad shouldered man, Mr.Nagarajan was, with a crooked nose, flowing hair and a dark complexion. Despite the darkness, the physicality and the height gave a chivalrous feel to him.

"Your mother left all of us for your father!" he could be a bit candid at times but this time the candor was too blunt.

"Yes. She did" he said looking down. "It was a mistake and she got punished for it!"

"She put all the honour, respect that this family had, to shame" chided his better half.

"I'm not denying any of it!" He said, with his gaze, still at the floor. Then Gopi slowly lifted his head and with his blue eyes, passed onto him by his mother, who had got it from her mother, looked at his uncle, "If she had come back to you on the night she eloped with father, begged for your forgiveness, wouldn't you have accepted her back?"

That got the elder cub thinking. If the younger one's family had a matriarch rule, the situation in the elder's family was patriarchy. Gopi had witnessed that when his aunt replied to his rhetorical question with a shake of her head. But the riposte she received was a stare from her husband and she didn't open her mouth for the rest of his stay in their house.

"I loved her more than anything in this world" opened up his uncle. "She disappointed me when she married that filthy bastard, your father". Time mends a lot of things but it didn’t heal the wound left by his sister.

"I understand uncle, but my father, who was responsible for all this mess, is dead".

His uncle stared at his nephew for a while in total silence. Gopi stepped forward, emboldened by the silence and hugged his uncle. "I can never bring your sister back to you but I can be how you wanted her to be and more importantly,” he dropped a tear and said, “I'll never disappoint you, uncle!".  

That was the clincher. Like the younger cub, the elder’s heart melted at that and for a moment he couldn't differentiate who was within his arms, his litter sister or her son.

“How different things could've been had she said these words?” said a teary eyed uncle. “I'm sorry! I'm very sorry!“ he started sobbing. “I… I.. I... should’ve stopped it”. This time the sob had become an uncontrollable cry. At that moment in his uncle, all the knightly qualities had vanished and all that remained was the ordinary human repenting his sins.

“No point in reminiscing the bad memories” he patted his uncle. He too was very much welcome to the idea of a family reunion. When Gopi told him about his intention of talking to the Grandfather, Nagarajan took the onus on himself to bring his father. “He’s not like us! Old men like him don’t forget things! But don’t worry I’ll bring him” he said wiping the tears flowing from his eyes.

The day finally arrived and from the morning Gopi felt too numb and restless. First, he decided to arrange the dining table. So he moved the rectangular mahogany table to the middle of the hall and placed the chairs around it. It accommodated a chair at either side and two chairs along the length of the table at each side. He marvelled at the glowing exterior of the table. They must never forget this day.

With the feast due to start around noon, he went about with the cooking. “This is the most important day of my life” he told himself. Keeping in mind the age of the guests, he made sure that the food was easily digestible. The last thing he wanted was the guests to remember this day not so fondly, if at all they remember it the next day.

His elder uncle called to confirm the address and the route to his house. He gave a tiding that the lion doesn't know the exact details of the feast. "That's alright, Uncle" he had said. "Let me be the one to break the truth". He then neatly arranged the vessels on the table and placed five banana leaves in each place along the table where the guests will be seated.

The guests arrived in a sedan, driven by his youngest uncle, with the lion taking the front and the remaining members occupying the rear. His grandfather had been told that the luncheon was to discuss some new business partnership. Gopi was seeing his grandfather up close for the first time. He had heard from his father that the handlebar moustache of the great lion was so intimidating that people seldom looked at him while conversing with him. He couldn't help but wonder how his father got the nerve to fall in love this lion’s daughter.

When the fake introductions were done and dusted, Gopi took his guests to the dining table to begin the feast. Both the couples sat opposite to each other allowing his grandfather to be seated at the head of the table.

“You don’t employ any servants?” enquired his grandfather. The voice had an iron feel to it. Is he really an octogenarian?

“No gra.. Sir. I feel it’s my duty to serve my guests. A servant can never understand the importance of a guest”

“Ummm. Very interesting!” he smiled at Gopi. “You live alone in this house?” he asked looking around.

“Yes sir. My mother passed away when I was a kid and recently it was my father’s turn”.

“I'm extremely sorry. How cruel!” empathized the old lion.

And like that the guests had chatted and simultaneously filled their tummies to the fullest extent possible. When the feast had come to an end, Gopi sat opposite to his grandfather, who was stuffing a betel leaf inside his mouth. His uncles were busy discussing the suicide of a father, whose daughter had eloped with her lover. Her lover had been from the supposed lower strata of the society.

“How stupid of him to commit suicide!” barked his grandfather. “He should’ve killed her!” he laughed boisterously.

“Is that what you did to your daughter?” asked Gopi creating an unsettling silence in the room.

His grandfather had not heard him properly. “What?” he stammered a bit.

“I asked, Is that what you did to your daughter? Or I’ll rephrase it. Is that what you did to my mother?” Gopi asked this with a stoic face, staring straight into the eyes of his grandfather.

“What’s happening here? Who are you?” with a panic stricken face he asked his sons, “Who the hell is he?”

Several things happened at once. The moment Nagarajan tried to stand, Gopi’s hand took out the object kept inside the compartment hidden under the table and fired a shot at his uncle, whose brains exploded and fell on his wife, seated next to him. Now both the women have started screaming their lungs out.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” he screamed at all of them pointing the object in his hand. Like a slave fearing the whip, the object had the desired effect on them.

He looked at the corpse of his uncle, “You were right Uncle! You should’ve stopped your father then”.

“Now! Where were we?” he looked around the remaining occupants of the table.

“You said you wanted reunion!” cried his youngest uncle, with his voice trembling with fear.

Gopi nodded. “Yes I did! But please don’t distract me with your sermons since I've some unfinished business with Grandfather”. Then he looked at his grandfather, “You still haven’t answered my question?”

“I… I… you… you are her son?” he was weeping.

Gopi could smell the urine excreting itself from the eighty year old man. Is that the old man, whom the people feared? For Gopi, all he saw was another corpse that was alive, face full of fear, struggling to comprehend the situation.

Gopi’s mind went back to the day his father had revealed that secret that he had kept hidden till that time. His father’s mouth had struggled to reveal everything. When he uttered that she was burnt alive by her own father, Gopi had sworn to wipe out the entire family. His father had chosen the final day of his life to tell him everything. If not, you could have seen the entire family dropping dead like flies, father.

When he closed his eyes for a second, he was able to visualize his mother burning in the pyre alive. That thought drove him into a murderous rage that ended in a killing spree, “Your lot has to be taught a lesson!”

Thus revenge was served cold as deserts to the guests.

The neighbours who couldn't grasp that the sound was indeed a gunshot initially, realized it after four continuous shots were heard and called the police. But before the arrival of the cops they heard a solitary sound of a bullet escaping a gun and shattering whatever was in front.

Yennai Arindhal - Review

When I watched Thadaiyara Thaakka in YouTube, I thought to myself, “What more can this guy do to get the well deserved break?” Well the answer has come today – Play the role of an antagonist! He did it amazingly good and he’s the man to have scored many brownie points than anyone else in Yennai Arindhal. I seldom thought that his introduction on screen would create loud cheers and applause but it did and that’s a testimony to how much the people want him to succeed. Now I’ll move on to the actual review of the movie.

This statement could be harsh on Gautham Vasudev Menon but he seems to have exhausted all the tricks up his sleeve. A feel good love story or a Hollywood inspired (Trust me! I’m giving him the benefit of doubt) cop thrillers or a mix of both seems to be there up his sleeve. There’s nothing wrong in making movies in genre that you’re comfortable with but the essence of film-making lies in exploring things you have never touched before. So if my prediction is accurate, then the next movie of Gautham will show whether my assumption of his repertoire is accurate or not.

Now what is the significance of the above paragraph with respect to this movie? It’s the feel of Yennai Arindhal, in which every scene gives the impression that you’ve seen it all before (I don’t want to use the clichéd word Cliché). Like the dialogue in the movie, there’s a thin line between giving the impression of Cliché and calling it director’s touch. The amount of novelty that a director instills into the script will ultimately decide which side of the thin line the movie will be traversing. Unfortunately here there is more cliché than novelty.

Every movie (barring some) is a battle between Good and Evil. This movie is no different but it’s the individuals representing the two sides make the difference. Before coming to the most important person in the movie, I’ll touch a little on Ajith. This definitely deserves a place among the ones with very good performance from Ajith. One scene that comes to my mind is the one towards the end, when Ajith’s delivery starts in a mocking tone, changes to caution the next minute and finally to panic. The change of emotions was handled superbly by him. Overall he has given his usual good performance.

As mentioned in the first paragraph itself, the exciting component of the movie is definitely Arun Vijay. In all Good vs Evil stories, the better the villain, more interesting the movie becomes. The last thing we want to see is the villains like Ashish Vidyarthy (He has a cameo in this too). The best of Arun Vijay was in the same scene mentioned in the previous paragraph where both the actors talk to each other on phone. The evilness was very evident in his expressions but it’s hard to say that he outscored Ajith in that scene. I saw a video of Arun Vijay in tears after fans mobbed him. Although I’m not a big fan of such things, it was heartening to see him happy. Let him enjoy the stardom and his time in the limelight.

I don’t have anything specific to say about the other cast. They have done their part quite well. Since the simple costumes, beautiful locations, gorgeous heroine have all become part of Gautham’s film-making style it’s not really needed to talk in detail about them. But a special mention for Trisha for doing a commendable job. She’s beautiful as always. Vivek’s portions are very minimal, much to the happiness of everyone and he does make us laugh whenever he comes on screen.

Overall, a definitely one time watchable movie for the gorgeous artists on screen and Arun Vijay. This movie (if things go well) will be remembered for the rise of Arun Vijay. I was thinking of settling for 6/10 rating but Arun Vijay’s performance deserves another point making it a 7/10.