It was the mid nineties, and as I was creeping up from meekness to hit the point of I know everything, my mind was seduced by one of the most romantic tunes of the decade, churned out by AR Rahman. The heroine draped in a beautiful saree, in typical South Indian style, coupled with the beautiful Kashmir background, all in glittering white snow, lent a sensuous touch to the whole romantic moment. The song and the settings went on to become a rage. Every young lad wanted to be the hero, and obviously, the lasses yearned to be loved in such an environment. It was all beautiful, and life was certainly more so. My heart and mind were reverberating with When will I experience such a moment in the snow?
Fast forward the situation by fifteen years, and I can only think of one thing, What the hell are they doing dancing around in that snow. She is just draped in a saree, and the hero is wearing a sweater; the clothes, no way sufficient by any means. Forget the romance, forget the song and dance sequence, all that I can conjure at that instant is to flee as quickly as possible, and find the nearest shelter. I no more care about such a romantic setup, and forget seduction, only dread, awe and terror can strike the romantic couple. In the current cinematic setup, and with the economic slowdown, the heroines reveal more than what they conceal. Maybe it has got to do with the textile industry too being hit by the slump, and our great directors are taking advantage of the situation. So, in such a case, it becomes hard to take your eyes away from the heroine and examine the surroundings. That's a discussion maybe I should take up on my blog some other time.
Last week was terror personified. It was as though each day was having a competition with the previous, as to which one is going to win the battle of the sub zero temperatures. The temperature was falling like the NASDAQ, the peak being well below zero. In such a scenario, I dread even to think about the troughs. Added to the traumatic effect of the abysmally low centigrade, one has to cope up with the outrageously painful wind chill factor. Imagine, at a temperature of -20 degree Celsius, one has to bear the speedy winds at about 10 or 15 miles an hour. It is worse in Chicago, and on east coast, all the more. On Sunday, I just had to park my car, climb about twenty steps from my parking spot, and get into the house. My hands had frozen, and as soon as I got home, I felt as if I was experiencing the warm effects of the sauna without even raising the temperature of the heater. The feeling of staying outdoors was equivalent to being locked in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator, with the chillness factor magnified by five times. One of the worst moments, according to me, is to walk down to your car in the morning, and as your jeans makes contact with the chillness of the seat inside the car, it is as though, you are paying for your sins, in fifty births before this and fifty after this. Traumatic, truly traumatic!
Anyway, being in the mid-west or the east, you have to get used to this, as all of us cannot experience the warmth of the steady west coast weather. For the time being, let me forget all this, and expose myself to the snowy romantic song that I was referring to, Pudhu vellai mazhai, from Roja. Let me soak the effect, minus the snow, of course!!!
PS: Happy holidays!