Oh, Horrors: Part II

Way back, when I was just a child of ten, I would have starved for horror cinema if not for the Ramsay brothers. And the Zee Horror Show, whatever people think about it, proved to be my only hope of sustenance in an otherwise insipid life.
Well, you would say ... the show was terrible! Couldn’t agree with you more, but back then I did not even know who Freddy Krueger was. I still remember looking forward to Friday night throughout the week, waiting for the silver screen to burst into creepy blue and the words ‘Shyam and Tulsi Ramsay present..’ sail across it.
Now, all the Zee Horror... episodes hinged on one universal storyline, which generally went like this: Geeta (Names change. Different episodes would have different girls with different names — but all are essentially stupid) is a pretty, happy-go-lucky village girl. But then, on the other side of the village live three men who, though quite strong, have a few weaknesses — one of which is ‘nice’ country women who wear embroidered skirts and hop-skip-n-jump around the paddy fields all night.
So there, Rosie gets manhandled and murdered. The third night after the crime, she returns with sharper fangs and longer fingernails. A few YAAARGHs, AAAAAHs, NAAAAHHHIIIIs and BACHAAAAOs later, justice is served and the lady’s spirit is free to leave.
Of course, there were a few I liked, but back then I was too naive to know that they were direct lifts from classic Hollywood flicks. For instance, take Dahshat — an episode which has this guy discover that his new neighbour is actually a bloodthirsty vampire. The truth, however, dawned on me only last year, when I descended upon Fright Night while searching for something to watch on the idiot box.
But, well, I still liked Dahshat better — maybe because the vampire in the copy was a lady, and a stunning one at that. (Check this one out, Everyman!)
Then there was Taveez, which was quite an uninspiring copy of The Monkey Bone (the short story; not the stupid Brendan Fraser-starrer), but considering that I did not know that such a tale even existed, I loved it.
Well, anyways... enough of the desi stuff.
Another Hollywood horror I really liked was Frailty, starring Matthew McConaughey. Now, this was more a psychological thriller than an actual one with gargoyles and vampires romping around — but — the very premise of the movie, which had this ‘God-fearing’ dad trying to make his two kids help him chop off people’s heads, was quite chilling. Very chilling, indeed. Once the movie was done, switching off the lights and trying to get some sleep proved to be quite a tough task.
At this point, I must tell you about an alleged horror flick I saw yesterday — Alien vs Predator. It was only through sheer willpower that I managed to watch it till the very end and everytime I tried sparing myself the misery, my mind went back to the time when Everyman sat through two hours of American Cyborg-Steel Warrior and then wrote an entire post on it. If he could, I could too. And I had some booze to help me through it.
The acting, I must say, was terrible. Especially that of the Afro-American actress, who seemed to have a more dead-pan expression than her Predator companion (with his iron helmet on, of course), and, for that matter, Arnold Schwarzenegger.
And yes, the storyline was crap too.
Now, coming back to good ones in the genre, I particularly liked Dawn of the Dead and Night of the Living Dead. Maybe because I got some kind of a soft spot for zombies.
Zombies aren’t wicked, they don’t plot — for heaven’s sake... they don’t think either, because whatever’s left of their grey matter is pure rot. No, all they want is their fundamental right to food — which lies under your skin. Lovable creatures, aren’t they?
The following are my favourite horror movies. The first two I may have already mentioned ... here are the rest.
1. The Sixth Sense
2. Psycho
4. Dawn of the Dead
5. Invasion of the Body Snatchers
6. Misery
7. The Shining
8. The Omen (Not the new one — EWW!)
9. The Exorcism of Emily Rose
10. Hour of the Wolf

P.S. I wanted to mention a movie called Dead End in my post, but took pity on ol’ Nandhu — bless his dear soul.

Oh, horrors!

The lady runs into the forest, her clothes flapping in the dark night air. And though you know she is doomed, you hold your breath waiting for the inevitable.
And then, it happens. Vines swoop down from scary-looking trees, grabbing her by the legs. Similar monstrosities appear, pinning the screaming person to the ground and soon, all you can see are her eyes glowing with fear.
But no... wait! The vines are parting her legs now, while one particular vine mischieviously hovers in the air like a snake readying for the kill. Wonder what is it up to...
And the next moment, a shriek ensues even as an older person's hand quickly covers your eyes. And the moment is lost.

Evil Dead was my first scary movie ever, and it was this very flick that made me the horror freak that I am. And so impressed was I by the entire package — the shrieking ladies, the trapdoors wrapped in heavy iron chains and the delightfully musical demons — that I just had to watch it again, a week ago.Which, quite understandably, was a tame affair.
The demons, so alive and horrifying in my memory, looked more like fat geezers covered in wet flour; the actors seemed to be performing in some pre-school drama and the special effects were... well, I had seen better in Shaktimaan.
Well, maybe I am overdoing it. It wasn’t all that bad, actually — especially if you compare it with stuff like Decadent Evil and well, my all-time non-favourite, Child’s Play. But then, expectations are bad things... and if movies don’t live up to it, they might as well die.
Or maybe it’s because things change, and even more so — your idea of horror. When I was a kid, even Shyam Ramsay could use one of his lame zombies to scare the shit out of me and my idea of terror was generally a sari-clad woman, equipped with bloody canines and a candle, singing pathetic songs about ‘undying’ love.
Watched Psycho at a little over 12 and I, for the life in me, could not understand why my co-viewers were trembling just because a lady (Janet Leigh, I know now) was doing something similar on the other side of the screen. And, naah, the psycho was just too lean to be scary.
Fast-forward till a couple of years ago, when I sat through (make that trembled through) Psycho once again. This time I could understand everything — including how good the acting was — and was in the danger of making my fingernails the movie-time snack. Times had changed, yes... but my love for horror movies hadn’t.
If you ask me what my favourite movie in this genre is, I would say... The Sixth Sense. Now, there are many who would object - say that it is actually a thriller and stuff. But this, I opine, is hogwash! Anything that is capable of sending a shiver up my spine, I would say is ‘horror cinema’.
Now, that particular scene in which Cole sees a lady sneaking into the kitchen, after he’s taken a leak - man, that was scary! It made the hair on my head reach for the moon and I shrieked out so bad, I had to look around to see if anybody in the theatre had been disturbed.
But no.. luckily, they were too busy doing their own shrieking to notice.
Another notable one was The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Now, saying that this movie is one of your personal favourites is not going to make you very popular. Many of my friends insist that it made them laugh. And yeah, my fellow members of the audience were also guffawing away while I was busy trying to tame my nerves.
Don’t know why. Maybe they thought Emily’s contorted face (whenever she got possessed) looked funny. Or maybe they were just trying to hide their fear behind hollow sounds of pleasure.

(To be continued)

What is truth, asked jesting Pilate...

Little orange-tinted glasses. He was always made to put them on, even when asleep.
But no, today he wouldn't.
Stam got out of bed, throwing the covers - and his glasses - aside. Today he wanted to face life the way it was. Warily, he stepped out the door. And he certainly wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him...
People - hordes of them - were walking backwards. All the vehicles were moving in reverse, as if that was the way they were supposed to behave. Blindfolded traffic policemen were helping old women cross the street, then dumping them into a well situated just across it. The sun was up in the sky, as if unsure if it were supposed to set or rise. Animals ... there were no animals in sight, only dumb humans who thought they were as smart as they could be. All of them slowly walking backwards and out of sight.
And the air, the air seemed to be on fire.
"This is all wrong!" cried Stam, "All wrong!" And he rushed forward, trying to inform them of the error of their ways.
The humans looked at him, some with surprise and others with disdain. "Who's this madcap?" some of them asked others. "He?" the others answered them, "That's young Stam. But this is weird ...he seemed to be quite okay till yesterday."
Stam couldn't care less. Couldn't they see the obvious? It was as clear as daylight. And so, like some ancient prophet out of a powdering religious book, he tried harder to make them understand. In whispers, in screams.
But to no avail. They just kept staring, their eyes as glazed as glass, until one of them said: "Yesterday was yesterday. Stam's not one of us today! Kill him!"
This the others understood. And they stood erect, chanting the words like zombies in a dear departed choir: "Yesterday was yesterday. Stam's not one of us today! Kill him!" Stones came flying his way. Stam got to his feet, ready to flee. He should never have removed his glasses. Without it, he was alone. He was dead meat.
A big rock hit him on the face. With blood pouring from a gash in his cheek, Stam looked up. The humans were now advancing, their eyes blank and their chant rising to a terrifying crescendo: Kill him, kill him.
Stam started running. Wrong or right, survival was the only thing that mattered to him right then. But everywhere he fled, more and more humans started turning up - raising the same death chant... Kill him.
He had gone too far. The only way was the human way ... and he had violated it.
And just then, when all hope had gone, he saw the Strouk’s house.
They all thought he was a demon. Nobody ever went to the Strouk’s house. Mama had told him not to, either. But then, he did not a choice. And in the present circumstances, mama would be the next to cast the stone.
Stam ran into the Strouk’s house, all the while looking back in fear. But no, the humans did not follow him; for some reason, they all feared — and respected — the Strouk.
The house was dark and dusty. A few pieces of furniture, covered with a white (now yellowed) blanket, lay in the centre of the living room. At the far end was a tiny washbasin, stained with spit. And beside a window, in the west end of the room, was the Strouk.
He was laughing.
“You are the third person to come in this decade. Do I sense an intellectual revolution in the making?” he asked rhetorically.
In Stam, emotions were battling for supremacy. Part of him was scared, part of him was angry, part of him was dumbfounded ... but for the most part, he was curious.
“What’s all this?” he asked aggressively, “Everything’s wrong out there. But they just can’t see it. And they want to kill me for pointing it out!”
The Strouk remained calm. He had seen quite a few tantrums in his age to be really impressed by this one.
“So what if you saw them walking backwards,” he asked, “You were supposed to be wearing your glasses. Outside of them, truth’s not the same.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have removed them,” admitted Stam, “But that doesn’t change the fact that we are still doing everything wrong!”
The Strouk pondered for a while, and then said: “For a world that knows black to be white, who’s to tell them what is day and what is night?”
Stam hadn’t thought of that. “So, the one-eyed-man isn’t exactly king in the land of the blind?” A smirk spread across the Strouk’s face and, for a split second, Stam thought he spied an evil gleam in his eyes. “No... far from it. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed has no place. For a while, they will shun him ... and later, after they have had enough of his madness, they will roast him over a slow fire. Because, in such a place, darkness is the truth.”
“C’mon,” said Stam, “Truth cannot be founded on a majority decision... can it?”
“Of course it can,” responded the Strouk, “Until the day someone discovers that the sun is just a figment of the imagination, they will go on thinking that it is a ball of burning gas. And till then, it will be the only answer to that question... You see, the possibilities that lie before you are infinite. You have to pick your own Truths.”
Stam could now see what he meant. His questions were answered, but he wasn’t happy. But then, happiness is not a very easy thing to achieve.
The Strouk spoke up again: “I think you have overstayed your welcome — and it's time for my nap anyway. Why don’t you close the door as you leave?” And when he could see Stam hesitating, he said, “Don’t worry about the humans outside. You would be surprised to notice how weak their memory is.”
So Stam picked himself up and stepped out the door.
Indeed, the crowd of humans had dispersed and the only ones around were busy walking backwards. Stam looked back to see the Strouk preparing for his nap.
“Life sucks,” Stam thought as he put on his orange-tinted glasses and joined the great majority.

Man! And Superman...

For those who have come in late, I am the world's greatest comic buff.
I devoured my first Batman comic when I was five and at seven, the Spectre was my imaginary friend. And, believe it or not, the Punisher and Spider-man were on my bedroom wall much before Axl Rose could even venture into the territory.
And no, I ain't boasting. Being an all-day sucker for them freakos in tights 'n' underwear is nothing to be proud of... or so my dad says. Well, maybe he's right, maybe he's not ... but I still swear by Jim Lee.
Anyways, at ten I was making up my own superheroes. Which is what I would like to yap about...
My first biggie was Floating Man, who possessed the amazing ability to float wherever he goes. But hey, asked the sceptics (well, my world is full of them), isn't he going to do anything about 'em land-lubber scum? And what do they have in the water anyway, except for those annoying squid and octopus thingies?
Well, I had an answer for them too. Floating Man could actually summon water from oceans and seas to get rid of the criminal element in Goodville city. So... picture this.
The evil Dr Scorb is at the local bank, brandishing his lazer gun and ordering all the old clerks to throw their he hearties into a solar-powered multi-pronged gooby bag. But then, tarantaraaaa! It's Floating Man to the rescue!
Thar he comes, floating down the street on waters borrowed from seas as far as the one in Mesopotamia (Didn't know how to spell that then, don't know how to spell that now). And when our hero gets close enough to the wretched villain (who, incidentally, does not know how to swim) he launches a swift kick right on where-it-hurts-the-most. And well, the rest is history ... the villain never has children, goes to jail and Floating Man is kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed by pretty pretty girls.
But then, there was the problem. The rivers and seas and oceans that had come rushing its way into the bank has caused more harm than Dr Scorb could ever unleash in a lifetime. And Floating Man, in the face of millions of lawsuits and hate mails, decides to retire and spend the rest of his life playing second mate to the hermit crab.
So, that was that.
There were many others too, including Snakeman, Divinity (this one gets her powers from Zeus/ quite interesting) and Black Thunder, who never found their way out of the drawing board. After years and years came my biggest superhero till date - Major Paine!
Now, people tell me there's a movie with the same name (but spelt differently: P..A..Y..N..E). But have no worries... my Major has nothing that's remotely similar to the clown in that one.
Well, Major Paine is this dude in black mask, black cape, black boots and (undoubtedly) black underwear to match the rest. And he has absolutely no powers - except for some marked expertise in the art of fisticuffs. But then, he has righteousness by his side.
Major Paine's nemesis is Dr Watson Evil and he is always plotting on ways to take over the universe. And everytime our hero crashes in through the roof, Dr Watson Evil says, "Ahh! You are a major pain!"
And Major Paine, with a twinkle in his eyes, says:" Elementary, my dear Watson."

(To be continued....)

Me and the Dead

Is life after death for real? I don't know and I wouldn't want to know anytime soon. For the time-being, breathing seems to be just the thing for me...
But then, some element of fascination does hide behind the darkness of the subject. Really, what happens then? Do our spirits rot in the cold confines of the grave, giving hearty company to the layers of flesh that are slowly becoming morsels for rodents with bloodstained teeth. Or do we rise in the air, invisible to everyone around us, soon to meet whoever made the Sun, the Moon and the Stars. Or do we get thrown into a lake of fire, destined for an eternity of pain, regret and anxiety.
Or, worst of all, do we get to haunt the earth forever, watching all our loved ones die one by one by one...
Whatever it is, its bound to be scary.

With my eyes wide shut ...

I am an Indian ... have always been one. But then, I did not always see things like they were. There's this beggar on the street - I throw him a coin (not always, that) and walk on. The next moment, it's out of my mind ... there are always better things to think about - the movie version of the Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy ... that girl I have been getting friendly with ... the reporting assignment that's due tomorrow ...
Funny how the mind always manages to delete the more unpleasant aspects of life from our memory ...
I saw Swades just yesterday ... and, God forbid, it made me think!
What's it about? A non-resident Indian scientist who works with NASA comes back home to meet his elderly governess...and then he sees stuff like poverty and hunger and finally decides to stay back.
Very true, it would take an outsider to actually understand what goes on over here. We better-off Indians - we have seen so much of this thing that we have literally become immune to it. We see impoverished people but don't give them anything more than a second glance...
Why? Hey, we got work to do ... trains to catch, appointments to keep, movies to watch and people to meet. The occasional coin we drop in the beggar's bowl gives us a clear conscience (Wow! My good deed for the day ... getting a step closer to the promised land now!)
And I ain't doing that good either. I remember the time when the tsunami struck ... there were these massive waves hitting the shores, snuffing out lives and rendering people homeless. We newspaper dudes? We were sitting in our air conditioned offices, admiring photos that had wailing mothers kneeling over bodies of dead babies, all the while muttering in awe, ``Man! What powerful pictures! The pages are really gonna look terrific tonite...''
But then, that's what our job demands from us. Bad news is good news. We wouldn't mind Jupiter crashing onto the earth as long as the news sells a few copies more.
Remember that famous picture that had a vulture waiting on a baby in its death throes? They say the vulture won, the photographer got a big prize for it and later, comitted suicide.
God bless his soul.
Funny how a movie can put you in such a sordid mood..n make you post such sordid stuff. But, like they say, life's like that but it could certainly be better. Don't know how... don't ask why...but it certainly could have.

THE ULTIMATE QUESTION: Life, the universe and me

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror. Laugh. And think, Heavens, God did make some really weird creatures, didn't he!
Really, life, for me, has always been quite eventful. Don't want to sound like I'm complaining but ... well, sometimes I think it could have been a little more drab. Then I wouldn't have had to walk around with scars all over my body :)
Non non, I haven't started looking like Chuck Norris just as yet but ... the way I m going, I would look much worse than a soldier who has spent fifteen years in a Vietnam forest on a lizard and grasshopper diet.
But its been fun. A lot of it. I should be happy. Coz I m really going to be entertaining my grandkids, if I live to be ninety-seven (a gorgonzalatic question mark here).
I was born on a dark night of 1979. And dark it was ... especially because the lines were down and the hospital was a little to cheap to install a decent generator.
A nurse had smiled (pretty one, I guess ... but at that time, I was too busy being born to notice) and said, This guy's gonna become a bat....
And today, when I think about it while I m typing away at my computer at 2:00 am in the night, I smile. And wonder if that nurse had a part-time job with a crystal ball and a black cat.
Really, the last time I had this crazed doubt that maybe I was sprouting bat wings and becoming uglier... I asked a friend of mine about this and he laughed, Hey ... you got nothing to worry about: You can't possibly get any uglier and well, if you do sprout bat wings ... you will stop crapping about how much fuel your stupid bike swigs...
Yeah, I said, and I will be ramming myself into the empire state building then ...
But well, there have been times when I have felt like Superman (like the time I was riding the bike) and then ... something has to happen to convince me that I m not invulnerable by a long shot.
But again, I m not complaining. God couldn't have put together a better package for me (But... well ... he could have included R in it)
I been to a lot of places in my life; twice to the clink. And now, I got a lot of cop frens.
Well, once was when I got into a train compartment that had something funny scribbled on the outside. The graffiti was in Tamil, a language that is as old and stupid as the dinosaurs (and I don't know why the @#$* it did not die along with them).
Anyways, I got into it and the train started on its way. And I looked around ... to find that I was surrounded by hordes of pretty women - all looking at me with eyes the size of coffee mugs.
Uh..Oh! Is this a ladies-only compartment?
They nodded - pity writ large on their faces. I grinned my clumsy grin and looked around for ways to escape. But I had no choice : The train was running at 80 miles an hour already.
Jump? Non, non. Better to die of embarrassment than a shattered hip-bone.
The girls were starting to giggle. The red of my face did not match the blue of my shirt. So I chose to hide it.
The next station was drawing closer. I held my breath ... Ahaa ... at last this nightmare's gonna end!!
Mouthing a silent prayer, I jumped out as soon as the train stopped ... right into the long arm of the law.
Three cops stood silently, their expressions queerly resembling that of the ravenous bugblatter beast of Traal.
One of them pointed at the strange words scribbled on the compartment - which obviously said: Ladies only.
Man .... I can't read Tamil. How could I possibly know what's written..., I stammered - realising only then that none of the dorks knew English.
I spent about two hours in the clink - enjoying the company of hooligans with broad shoulders, ugly tatoos and bloodshot eyes - until one of my frens came and bailed me out.
And that was how chapter one of my life ended. And how Jimmy the cute li'l baby became a criminal.