Arre O Sambar: Pop Matters
POP MATTERS
JUNE 30, 2005 - I LOVE MY SISTER, BUT THERE ARE TIMES I don’t want to be around when she calls from the US. Those times are usually before Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, when a typical conversation goes like this.
She: “So what are you getting Amma for Mother’s Day?”
Me: “Uh…”
She: “I’m giving her a fine china dinner set. I’m ordering it over the Internet and having it delivered on the exact day. What do you think?”
Me: “But we already have stainless steel plates. Besides, whoever eats sambar saadham from fine china?”
She: “That’s not the point. The idea is to give her something nice.”
Me: “Why don’t you give her some cash instead, to buy whatever she wants?”
She: “So that’s what you’re doing? ‘Hello ma, Happy Mother’s Day, here’s 500 bucks.’ How cheap!”
Me: “But 500 bucks is hardly cheap.”
She: “But the gesture is.”
Me: “It is? I know that if someone gave me 500 bucks, I would be a hell of a lot happier than I was before getting the money.”
She: “That’s because you’re a pig. Everyone else has better taste.”
Me: “Better taste? You mean, like those fictitious people who eat their sambar saadham from fine china?”
It only gets worse from then on. It becomes the telephonic equivalent of Vijayakanth vs. the evil pannaiyaar’s henchmen, whose striped, naada undies peek out from beneath their bunched-up veshtis. And now, as I write this, I’m half-expecting a call from the US, enquiring about my purchase plans for something far more terrifying than Mother’s Day – Father’s Day. (By the time you read this, though, the day would have passed. Hopefully, you didn’t get your father a fine china dinner set.)
What is it with these siblings in the US? After some time there, why do they forget that we’re Tamilians, and we do not wear our hearts on our sleeves. (Besides, to wear anything on our sleeves, we’d have to wear shirts first, and who’s doing that in the thousand-degree heat of the past few days!) Imagine what would happen if we actually did what those crazy Americans do on Father’s Day! Come June 19, and Chennai would wake up to loud thuds – that would be the sound of poor, unsuspecting fathers all over, fainting in shock upon receiving bear hugs from sons with whom they converse roughly twelve times a year. (March to September: “It’s so hot outside.” October to February: “There’s a nip in the air.” Why do you think God made weather? So that sons could bond with fathers.)
If you ask me, Chennai already has the perfect Father’s Day gift. It’s called a newspaper. Once that’s in our fathers’ hands, they simply have to plonk themselves into an easy chair and spread it out in front of them. Whether they actually read every bit, only they know, but at least it’s one hell of a protective buffer against sons charging at them with outstretched arms.
Copyright ©2005 The Economic Times - Madras Plus. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
In anticipation of Father’s Day, this Sunday…
hey! I thought the pun(k)ster has returned looking at the title - but thankfully, you have grown up
However, this subject didnt need a writer of your ability.
Brilliant! I’m a Gult born and brought up in Maharashtra but I understand. Thankfully, my sister doesn’t bother trying to convince me to get something for Father’s/Mother’s Days!
Nice, pleasant writeup. My father has this attachment with MP3 Cds these days. The mp3 CDs containing lectures of Swami Dayanandha or Nochur Venkataraman would delight him noend than a newspaper. But one thing, the CDs are fine as long as you aren’t forced to hear it day after day.
“After some time there, why do they forget that we’re Tamilians, and we do not wear our hearts on our sleeves”
Reminds me of this family we know that use to hug all the time. And my mother’s reaction would be a smirk. But the one time my dad hugged me, I was horrified
This is very Sidin ‘Whatay.com’ Vadukut’ish!!!
ehehe burp!!
rofl! beautiful
So true too, luckily for me I don’t have any siblings left there and mom and dad don’t have a choice but to act all surprised and happy when we do pounce on them!
That was hilarious! Thank you for the break frm all things serious. Just in time too, I can now stop feeling like scum for having stayed away frm the mad scramble at stores the past week for ‘I love my dad’ caps and mugs shirts and tearoff coupon books that say something like..’this entitles you to 10,000 hugs’ on every page..
On the other hand, I sent some [i]money[/i] to my sister to buy a gift for mom on mother’s day. And that little bugger bought an expensive pair of jeans and shirts for herself first, and gave remaining to mom! The remainder was good for mom, she said, and mom did not know the original amount anyway, leaving a huge chunk for the middle-woman!!
Next time your sis or someone bothers you you should take a jab at the artificiality of what they do over there.It is one thing that Americans find the need to celebrate Fathers’ day or Pets day or whatever. I am constantly amused at how desis eventually get Americanized into doing all this stuff.
Hilarious! I have to raise my hand for being a denizen of the US of A and still not falling prey to this trend. OK not completely, Let me admit, I did wish my mother happy Mother’s day this year (first time in the my many years here) and I am sure it was not age that gave me the impression that she did not hear… she must be still processing that one in her mind
P.S It’s good to see you blogging on non-cinema related issues as well as usual they make a fantastic read!
Ritu: This is an old post, from 2005. Don’t have the time to do much non-cinema writing these days.
brangan: Yesss. Do let’s talk about fathers. After all, Gautham just did. And Rahman. Not that I needed an excuse, but it certainly helps to offset accusations that I’m “hijacking” your blog. A word about “Father’s day” though (DISCLAIMER: This is my own intensely personal belief; no offense to anyone who thinks otherwise). It’s never meant much to me. Nor has Mother’s day. Or Columbus day. Or President’s day. I’d never even heard of any of these “special” days until May (ah, that month of many firsts..the month I first set foot in the US of A — yes, the country that practically pulled these marketing-gimmicky “days” right out of its Capitalist hat) 1998. And I wasn’t about to suddenly start doing a sentimental song-and-dance just coz it’s, well, fashionable to fawn over fathers. (Besides, when it comes to dancing, I’m gifted with two left feet. And I won’t even bother commenting on the singing part…there’s a reason I prefer to keep my mouth shut (hard as that is to believe) except when in the mood to incite whacks..More on that in just a second.) The real reason is, the words “gift shopping” have always conjured up nightmares and have caused my wells of imagination to instantly dry up..(”Atha chollu! Darn good excuse, dee” as my darling sis would say! My poor family, I know. But they suffer me gladly, and thank God for that.).
Now, on to dad. I love my dad. Yes I do. Very much. And did he love me? You betcha! I was fortunate enough to have enjoyed three full decades worth of dad-daughter “coochie cooing.” Well, inasmuch as periodic whacks from a tightly rolled wad of Indian Express during the first decade could be characterized as “coochie cooing”: Yedhuthu yedhuthu pesaadhadee…whack! Appanukku avvalavudhaanaa mariyaadai…whack! Pakkathaathu Srikanth oda veypa maraththu mela yen yeriney?…whack! Kaal odenja yaar thookindu porthu hospital ku — but dad, Vijaya Hospital is right next door.. — Thiruppi, thiruppi yedhuththu pesara?…whack! Those were the days…(My sister LOVED it when dad chased me around the dining table, said newspaper in hand, or did the flying-missile thingie with it when I ran far beyond his reach or when he got out of breath. This was our weekend entertainment — that is, when we weren’t collectively OD’ing on Star Trek or Sherlock Holmes or Poirot or Indradhanush or Mahabharat or Trishna or some movie on DD.)
And yes, you’re correct in concluding that my sis was indeed the “well behaved” one. And, if you ask me, Chennai already has the perfect Father’s Day gift. (Right again!)
When dad wasn’t busy whacking me with it, he read the Indian Express front to back, every single day. On days he fell behind, he folded up to the last-read section and dog-eared the pages. He arranged them in neat stacks: Read. Not read. In varied stages of reading. He carefully check-marked the completed ones. ONLY a tick with a blue ballpoint pen meant the paper can *finally* go off to the used-paper shop (where I would gleefully exchange stacks of ‘em for Superman and Phantom comics!). Anyone who messed with his sequencing would have hell to pay for. (”Naan indha vilayaatuku varala pa”…now why do I never heed those words of wisdom (or should I say warning)? — Would have saved me from a few more whacks for sure, but what’s 10 resounding bashings in the grand scheme of things? It’s all good. I had fun. That’s the most important part. That it hurt is only incidental.) Just thinking about dad’s laborious process gives me a headache, but don’t we all have our vices.
I’d always wondered why the Express was this important to dad. I’d never understood his affinity for it while he was alive. I guess some things are best divined by posthumous percolation. For instance, the Kannadaasan song “Adikkira kai thaan anaikkum.” For all the times you whacked me with that tightly rolled wad of Express, dad, I feel you’re finally letting it unfurl and fold me in its truly divine embrace…thank you.
Seen dasa???
Also, why dont you post your Are-o sambhar series every week ? It would make a great reading on a friday !
I am not a fan of your Arre O Sambar at all, but hey, this one’s neat!
The father-son relationship paraphrased soooo well in those few lines!
Sagarika:I don’t usually have the time/patience to go through the comments section..esp yours which run like mini-blogs themselves
but this was a nice one.(I guess it’s the common nostalgic factor which did it ).Superman and Phantom comics fan-girl eh :).I used to do that too..along with decorating our family bed-room with panju from hundreds of burst pillows..after I had done my imaginary fight sequences with em ..jumping around with a sheet on my back from one sofa set to the other pretending to be superman..aah those were the days :)And maan..what a contrast between my dad and yours ..when he gets done with his daily paper..I usually have to porukkufy the sheets from under the bed , the t.v stand , tables,the rubbish bin..its a regular treasure hunt 
Oh my ‘back then express reading, right now hindu reading’ appa reminds me every year to wish him ‘happy fathers day’, all in the fun. And the reply i give him always - ‘ella naalum fathers day thaan appa’ :). nice post ….
Bala: Thanks! Yup, nostalgia does have a way of mummifying our most cherished memories and letting them loose at unprecedented moments. And hey, your dad sounds much like me!
I respect my father to the core. I am even planning to give out an award every year for an young and first time Thamizh writer. There are ways to honor. The times group is so crappy in terms of articles, pardon me with u being a writer, where even PC agreed they can unseat an FM. See now the story of Mrs Raghuram Bhat of Udupi, Karnataka MLA. Authenticity on front page, that she is alive etc. What happened? Police part nexus?
USA is so stupid in monopolizing the days. In beteen Thanksgiving and July 4th, they ensured there are enough sale days. So you go with days for Mothers, Fathers, Farters, etc. (St Peters for Beer, mind it rascals, read in Tamil way - Dhoni advt.)
Luckily there is only Labor day in between, who get screwed royally working for them.
Go Obama!
Hilarious I say! Add these as well… inda Chris-ma- Chris-child- Christmas party- Christmas gift kinda stuff by the Mylapore born Velachery bred peoples!
Rangan: I feel the pain. Sisters… pshaw!! Perennially showing up their male siblings with their sincere adulation of parents. Even worse when they are over-achieving
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Sagarika: Thanks for painting that picture. Puts the “medium musings” conversation in a new light. And in the interest of accuracy, “Adikkira Kai thaan Anaikkum” from “Vannakkili” may have been written by Maruthakasi of “Aadaatha Manamum Undo” fame.
Deepauk M: “..in the interest of accuracy” - I’m all about that dude, thank you so much for throwing light on Maruthakasi. You’ve perfectly recreated that aha moment I experienced (some 10 years back) when I found out for the first time that the Poo Vannam song from Azhiyadha Kolangal (that I simply love, love, love - as I just confessed to raj on the ARR post) was not by the isn’t-anything-and-everything-from-the-late-70s-by-him Ilaiyaraja, but by this westerly wind that quietly changed course to blow our emotions right off the clothesline — on which we-who-grew-up-in-the-80s-Madras collectively hung them up to dry — only to take them on a round-trip to the moon…
sagarika, what, like do you get up in the morning, switch on the laptop and browse to blogical conclusion AND THEN pick up the brush?
raj: I wish. But for some hardly-(b)logical reason lately, whenever I connect from home, the server denies me access. So no. The only time I get in here is at 9:30 am when I arrive at work (that is, if there are no moronic-meetings-that-eat-up-the-morning scheduled) and before the rest of the day spirals completely out of my control.
Nice one, brangan.
Am approaching my third decade in the States and have not celebrated Mother’s Day or Father’s Day once. What’s the need? As even my 3-year old knows, EVERY day is Mother’s day.:-)