I have known them for a while, and they have been telling me for a couple of months that they wanted to buy an iPhone. I had asked them to wait until Apple launched their newest phone. My first suggestion would have been the 3GS. With the introduction of the iPhone 4S, Apple has dropped the price of the 3GS to nought. And since the people in question were not very tech-savvy, I figured the 3GS would be an excellent first phone and it required no initial outlay.

However they were Verizon customers already, so the 3GS, which is AT&T-only, was immediately ruled out.

Naturally, my next suggestion was the iPhone 4. Yes, the Verizon store did have a number of Android devices on display. But their son had told them that Android would be very complicated for them. In any case, I am aesthetically and now morally opposed to Android.

I should have suggested the 4S, but didn’t want to push it for two reasons. Firstly, the iPhone 4 is “similar in many respects” to the iPhone 4S, and is comparatively less expensive. Secondly, the folks in question are Korean and they have a thick accent; I wasn’t sure of how much use Siri would be to them. Oh, also they could get the iPhone 4 right away.

Jane took the demo iPhone 4 in her hands. I explained the home button to her, and how everything was an app. I showed them how to make a call. She wanted to take a picture, and I showed her how the Camera app worked.

Her next question was, “How do I find out where the nearest, hmm, department store is?” Well, we were standing right next door to a Target, but hey!

So I showed her how to do a Google search with Safari, or search for a place using Maps.

I must admit this was a bit of a downer for her. Her reaction was “Oh, this means I must do a lot of typing!”

The iPhone 4S was right there. I told her, “Well, you might want to give this a try.” Her husband stepped in and said, “I am not sure if this will be useful for us. It might not work with our accent.” I was glad he understood my concern.

Jane wanted to give it a try nevertheless. She held the phone close to her face, and said, “Would you please tell me where the nearest department store is?” Her husband smiled, “You don’t need to be so polite to the phone.”

But Siri was already at work. “One moment. Let me get your location…”

A few seconds later. “I found seven department stores close by. I have arranged them by distance.”

I could see that they had made up their mind. I was enjoying this quite a lot. So much that I didn’t mind that Siri had slapped my wrist for underestimating her ability.

Next. “Would you please tell me what is playing at the Ambler Theater?”

Siri thought about it, but could not understand fully. Maybe she was overwhelmed by Jane’s politeness!

Another try. “Ambler Theater showtimes.”

This was more to Siri’s liking. She pulled up Google search results for the search query.

Next. “Remind me to go to the dentist. Monday morning. 10 o’clock.”

Siri: “I have added this item. I will remind you. Is this OK?”

Next. “Remind me about Josh’s birthday. November 4.”

Siri: “I have made an appointment at 9AM on November 4, 2011. Is this OK?”

Jane put the demo phone down, walked up to the counter and said emphatically, “White iPhone 4s. 16GB. When can you deliver it?”

May the 4S be with them!

P.S.: I remember listening to Harold Hambrose a few years ago at a conference on bringing digital innovation to inner cities. At the time, the city of Philadelphia was rolling out free Wi-Fi throughout the city and had expected that this would help people living in poorer neighborhoods to take part in the digital revolution. Harold predicted correctly that this was bound to fail. The free Wi-Fi didn’t work at most times, and when it did, it was poor at best. Harold’s reasoning was that when introducing a product or a service to the uninitiated, if those that it was intended to serve found it lacking, they would never take to it; in fact, it might have the exact negative effect on them, reinforcing their belief that technology is designed to be inaccessible. He aptly compared it to Elaine’s idea of giving muffin stumps to the homeless in The Muffin Tops episode from Seinfeld.

A5 processor. Spanking new 8MP camera. iOS5. All these mean nothing to someone buying a smartphone for the very first time. But being able to talk to your phone asking it to remind you on your grandson’s birthday; you cannot place a value on that. I felt like I was in a MasterCard commercial. Thank you, Siri!

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In his review of The Godfather, Roger Ebert explains why we are enamored of the movie’s characters:

We tend to identify with Don Corleone’s family not because we dig gang wars, but because we have been with them from the beginning, watching them wait for battle while sitting at the kitchen table and eating chow mein out of paper cartons.

But however much we identify with the characters, we the audience are always watching them through the eyes of an outsider. And that outsider is Kay Adams, portrayed by the wonderful Diane Keaton in an understated (and sadly, underrated) performance as Michael’s girlfriend and later, his wife.

The movie can be described as a series of unfurling climaxes, each one more poignant than the previous. It reaches its crescendo at the very last shot, when after Pete Clemenza kisses Michael’s hand calling him “Don Corleone”, Al Neri walks up and shuts the door on Kay at the very moment the truth dawns on her.

To me, this image of Kay, one of helplessness and horror is priceless. It is haunting not just because I / we, as the audience, feel a sense of betrayal.

Up until the scene where Connie’s son gets baptized, the audience knows about as much as does Kay. At that point, however, we realize Michael’s ruthlessness, a fact confirmed by the following scene where he gets Carlo killed. Kay knows none of this. Indeed, she only has Michael’s word (“Is it true? Is it?”). She is our on-screen alter ego, yet she knows less about the goings-on than we do. It is at this point that our heart goes out for her. That moment when she recognizes her husband’s true character, we as the audience feel helpless, almost as if we were tasked with breaking a piece of bad news to her, and yet she could surmise that her worst fears were indeed true.

The Godfather is a cinematic masterpiece on so many levels. Indeed I feel that the Academy should have made a special exception and given the movie several Oscars for Best Picture alone; one of which is just for this shot.

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I did not understand back then why anyone would feel so strongly about the passing away of another person they had not even met. As I grew older, however, I came to appreciate the treasured place MGR had carved for himself in the hearts of millions of people. It transcended the mere notions of a showman, a matinee idol, a do-gooder, a rebel, or a successful political leader. MGR was an idea, larger than life; he was not just a dreamer, but also a dream; even during his life, people truly believed in his legend, because he was, in their eyes, perfection personified; and hence a God.

I often wonder if MGR had received intimations of his imminent immortality, for he got a lyricist to pen these lines for one of his most famous songs, and then lived them out:

இருந்தாலும் மறைந்தாலும் பேர் சொல்லவேண்டும்;
இவர்போல யாரென்று ஊர் சொல்லவேண்டும்.

Many people exert some kind of influence on our lives. But only a select few revolutionize it to the extent that they cause a shift in the time continuum, thus causing after eras that would have been unimaginable before their advent.

Steve Jobs was one such rare revolutionary. May his soul rest in peace.

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What I liked

• Packaging: Movies set against a historical backdrop can quickly turn into documentaries, and thus risk putting audiences to sleep. At times, the audience might choose to entirely shun such a movie without even making an effort to understand it; case in point: Hey Ram. I presume therefore that the prime question that would have confronted the makers of Urumi must have been around striking the balance between fact and fantasy. There is no right answer to this. They could have chosen to please the art house crowd and the dabblers in history (yours truly would like to believe that he belongs to both categories). Or they could have chosen to play entirely to the galleries (mind you, the movie was made on a big budget). Urumi’s success rests on this intricate balance, and one must commend the writers for believing in the adage “The perfect is the enemy of the good”, for I found the movie impressive on multiple levels.
• Cinematography: Of course, it is a Santosh Sivan movie. How else could it have turned out? One could watch the movie just for the lush green scenery. (The dialogue, “Enga Simran akka nadikka kooda vendaam. Avanga poster-aye naanellaam rendara manineram paarthukitruppen!” comes to mind.)
• Casting: Expanded below.
• Prithviraj – Prabhudeva duo: Prithviraj excelled as Kelu Nayanar, but Prabhudeva as his friend Vavvali was, I thought, a casting coup. The reasons are obvious. Kelu has but one objective, on which he maintains a laser-sharp focus. In this sense, he is like a samurai, wherefore emotions are alien to his task, and by extension, to his nature. Vavvali, while valiant and supportive of Kelu’s mission, is essentially a lighthearted person, and displays a lot more sensitivity. The character could have easily been framed as just a sidekick, but the screenwriter must be thanked for giving it depth. The movie enhanced my respect for Prabhudeva’s acting skills.
• Genelia: Genelia D’Souza plays Arackal Ayesha, a princess who, like Kelu, wants to avenge her father’s death, her target being da Gama’s son, Estevao. And just like Kelu, Ayesha portrays just one emotion — anger — and Genelia brings this out through her expressive eyes. While her on-screen time is considerable, her dialogues are comparatively fewer. But who cares… this is Genelia!
• The supporting cast, notably Jagathy Sreekumar, Nithya Menon, Arya in two delightful cameos, the person playing Chirakkal Thamburan and both the da Gamas, pere and fils.
• Songs: The good ones, at least. Though the movie has many songs, I can recall only two that were long. I was particularly impressed by the number of genres the songs touched upon. Kudos to the composer. My personal favorite is the delectable Chinni Chinni Minni Thilangunaa, sung by Manjari.

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Like Robert Browning wrote:

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made

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A few moments ago, I turned to Wikipedia for enlightenment. Apparently, both terms are indeed right, “flautist” being the preferred term in British English, and flutist is “by far the more common choice” in American English. While that still did not resolve it for me, this line put the matter to bed.

… James Galway summed up the way he feels about “flautist,” saying, “I am a flute player not a flautist. I don’t have a flaut and I’ve never flauted.”

As if that were not enough, the next line proved a slam dunk.

In the Flautist or flutist? section in his book Proper Flute Playing, Trevor Wye records the following conversation: “What do you do, young man?” “I’m a flautist”, he replied. A long pause, then… “What exactly is it that you do with floors?” He then observes “Perhaps we should try flutist; it’s simpler, self-explanatory and widely understood.”

Reminds me of an unrelated story…

Mongoose

A farmer in some remote village in England had some trouble with snakes. His many attempts to eradicate the problem resulted in failure. At this time, someone suggested that getting a mongoose might be the answer. That someone had also heard of someone else who had contacted a store in London to buy a mongoose.

So, our man decided to write a letter to the store in question.

Dear Sir,

My farm is infested with snakes, and I would like to control this problem. Would you please send me two mongooses from your store in exchange for the attached payment?

Somehow that did not sound right. He knew that the plural term for goose was geese, and not gooses. So he started afresh.

Dear Sir,

My farm is infested with snakes, and I would like to control this problem. Would you please send me two mongeese from your store in exchange for the attached payment?

No sooner did he write this than he realized that this didn’t sound right either. If anything, it sounded worse. He did not want to be thought of as lacking erudition, but felt he had exhausted his options. Surely, there wasn’t another plural term he could think of. But then it came to him.

His final attempt read:

Dear Sir,

My farm is infested with snakes, and I would like to control this problem. Would you please send me a mongoose from your store in exchange for the attached payment?

Sincerely

…

P.S.: Please send me one more mongoose.

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As the famous Tamil philosopher Koundamani would say:

“மூணு வீலும், ஒரு தார்பாலினும் இருந்தா நீ owner-ஆ? படுவா, அப்படினா டாட்டா பிர்லா-வையெல்லாம் என்னடா சொல்லுவீங்க?”

The stupidity of the declaration in that trailer would have been forgotten right that moment, had it not been followed by another promo… unassuming, understated and haunting.

Like they say, “யாரு புள்ள!”

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Why have these two stalwarts of Indian cricket never spoken out about the damage the IPL has done to the country’s Test team?

Guha is one of my favorite writers on the subject, and is infinitely more knowledgeable, so I had expected to be enlightened by this article. Unfortunately though, Guha not only fails to answer his question, but also inexplicably tries (and fails) to construct a grand unified theory with the sole view of implicating Gavaskar and Shastri in the matter.

Allow me to reconstruct Guha’s argument here.

Statement #1: The IPL is the reason India is no longer the best Test team in the world.

Statement #2: Gavaskar and Shastri are in the BCCI’s pockets, which is why they do not voice opinions against the body. Also, they should have supported Dileep Vengsarkar in his bid to lead the Mumbai Cricket Association.

Statement #3: India’s drubbing this far in England is because some key players opted out due to exertion, or are playing despite it.

Guha would like us to believe that the last two statements together prove the first.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the second statement is completely irrelevant to the case. However, #3 is pertinent, but only goes halfway towards proving Guha’s point. The generally held view is that the Indian team has had to play too much cricket over the past six months, and this is the reason for the team’s poor performance in the first three Tests against England. I concur with this view. If this were indeed the case, and Guha himself implies this in his article, then his argument should have been that the most recent edition of the Indian Premier League has led to the national team’s slump in form; and not because of the nature of the tournament, but due to its poor timing; top-level cricketers are not machines, and they need proper rest in order to perform at their best. The Indian team would have performed just as poorly in England had the World Cup been followed by a five-test, seven-ODI, three T-20 series at home against South Africa, instead of by IPL 2011. Would Guha argue then that home series (in general) against the Springboks is the reason the Indian team is not the best in the world in Tests?

If, as he asserts, the IPL has wrecked India as a Test team, then how can one explain the fact that the Indian team rose steadily to the top of the Test rankings over the last couple of years, a period that coincides with the formation and growth in popularity of the IPL? I state this not to imply any causality; but Guha thinks he can get away with making the same point in reverse, and that is inexcusable coming from an expert like him.

The IPL per se does not cause exertion. It is this specific instance — IPL 2011 — that was poorly timed, at the end of a tiring World Cup. The BCCI was wrong in assuming that the players could handle the World Cup, IPL 2011, the West Indies tour and the England tour back to back and without much rest. If Guha had argued taken this line, I would have stood foursquare behind him. But Guha’s agenda in writing this article does not seem to be the fortunes of the national team, but the “fortunes” of the BCCI. For example, he wonders if “the ownership of the Chennai Super Kings by the board’s secretary is legally and morally indefensible.” A more impertinent line of argument is yet to be invented.

This is not a defense of the two ex-cricketers. Should Gavaskar and Shastri have spoken out about the timing of IPL 2011? As respected members of the Indian cricketing establishment, yes. Should they do more to develop young talent a la the Colonel? Maybe. Are they part of a deliberate attempt — a conspiracy, even — to forever destroy the Indian Test team’s standing? Are you kidding me?

I can only conclude that Ram Guha has a beef with Gavaskar and Shastri (or a bigger one against the board), one which might probably even be legitimate. But he has chosen the wrong topic to implicate the two, and has lost the plot as revealed by his article’s incoherence. Weaving Vengsarkar into the debate is a cunningly well-deployed straw man argument intended to establish a distraction in the reader’s mind to portray the duo in poor light.

Ram, I’m sorry, but you are wrong!

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“Markets will rise and fall, but this is the United States of America,” Obama said. “No matter what some agency may say, we’ve always been and always will be a AAA country.”

Translation: “Don’t worry if you lost a quarter of your life’s savings within the past one week. This is the United States of America. We will continue to borrow and spend, and live beyond our means.“

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“Music, in short, was sweat and blood: you had to earn it and work hard to preserve it. But technology intervened one fine morning. Today, even an 8GB pen drive or iPod can hold more music than you would ever want to listen to in your lifetime. But what do you do with the collection of cassettes you’ve painstakingly built over the years? Give them away? Doesn’t that amount to giving away a chunk of your childhood or youth?“

Too often, discussions on the topic tend to focus rather narrowly on the benefits of technology or how people tend to idealize their not-so-ideal past. I do not deny either of those themes. But it seems to me that this newfound abundance has made us poor and insensitive to the finer aspects of life. As Bishwanath points out, the “sweat and blood” are taken out of the equation, and I fear the “soul” follows suit.

TO LOVE,

TO SUFFER,

TO THINK…

is to seek poetry.

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In a document provided to Treasury on Friday afternoon, Standard and Poor’s (S&P) presented a judgment about the credit rating of the U.S. that was based on a $2 trillion mistake. After Treasury pointed out this error – a basic math error of significant consequence – S&P still chose to proceed with their flawed judgment by simply changing their principal rationale for their credit rating decision from an economic one to a political one.

Flawed judgment, alright. How about the US Government being $14 trillion in the red, and not having a clue how to dig their way out this abyss? What flawed judgment led the country into this mess?

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The Composition section was filled with page after page of wonderful passages that it could have been a reference book in its own right. And that is where I first came across Cardinal Newman’s portrait of the gentleman, culled from The Idea of a University. The passage became an instant favorite, not just for the speaker’s (the book is actually a series of discourses delivered by the Cardinal) clarity of thought and his eloquence, but because it advocated that the most important characteristic of a gentleman was equanimity.

It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature: like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and animal heat without them. The true gentleman in like manner carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast; — all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to make every one at their ease and at home. He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring. He never speaks of himself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort, he has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets every thing for the best. He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend. He has too much good sense to be affronted at insults, he is too well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear malice. He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical principles; he submits to pain, because it is inevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable, and to death, because it is his destiny. If he engages in controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him from the blunder.

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At the time of reading, three passages from the book stood out, and I knew then that I would keep quoting them from time to time. Of the three, I found the following passage about Sir Isaac Newton most inspiring:

“Nevertheless his prodigious intellectual powers persisted unabated. In 1696, the Swiss mathematician Johann Bernoulli challenged his colleagues to solve an unresolved issue called the brachistochrone problem, specifying the curve connecting two points displaced from each other laterally, along which a body, acted upon only by gravity, would fall in the shortest time. Bernoulli originally specified a deadline of six months, but extended it to a year and a half at the request of Leibniz, one of the leading scholars of the time, and the man who had, independently of Newton, invented the differential and integral calculus. The challenge was delivered to Newton at four P.M. on January 29, 1697. Before leaving for work the next morning, he had invented an entire new branch of mathematics called the calculus of variations, used it to solve the brachistochrone problem and sent off the solution, which was published, at Newton’s request, anonymously. But the brilliance and originality of the work betrayed the identity of its author. When Bernoulli saw the solution, he commented, ‘We recognize the lion by his claw.’ Newton was then in his fifty-fifth year.”

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Me: No.

Co-worker: I’m surprised you don’t. I thought it was a big deal in India.

Me: No, it is a North Indian thing.

Co-worker: Oh, I didn’t know. What are you?

Me: Pardon the cliché. I’m Indian by birth; Southern by the grace of God.

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The success of Vetrimaaran’s previous movie Pollaadhavan rested on three elements — an excellent screenplay, a great cast and Dhanush. It seems like three years down the line, Vetrimaaran and Dhanush have decided to raise the bar but with the same ingredients only better, and the result is Aadukalam — a movie that is not just technically superior, but is so convincing that you feel at times that you are in the midst of the action.

The director deserves the lion’s share of the plaudits; one can just wonder at how much homework must have gone into the movie so it evokes such a reaction in the audience. The movie’s screenplay is so taut that even at 160+ minutes, one can hardly point out a scene or a song that could have been edited out. (By the way, the songs are amazing. “Otha sollaala” is my new favorite.)

The production team has pulled off a casting coup. There are so many new faces that seem cut out for their roles that one wonders how the production team assembled them together. Every one of the characters seems to be from real life – Pettaikaarar (Jayabalan delivers a standout performance), Durai (Kishore), Rathinasamy, Pettaikaarar’s wife, even the guy who plays Dhanush’s friend. Taapsee, who plays Irene, reminds me of Kushboo; indeed her role in the movie is such that her dubbing artiste would just have to listen to Kushboo speaking Tamil as preparation for her task.

Finally, Dhanush; he has poured his heart into the role of Karuppu. He carries the movie through and through. It is impossible for me to visualize another actor who would fit the role.

Bottomline: Dhanush tells his rooster in the middle of a pivotal fight: “டேய் தம்பி… நான் போயிருவேன்; நீயும் போயிருவ; ஆனா அடுத்து வரப்போற பதினஞ்சு நிமிஷம் இன்னும் அம்பது வருஷத்துக்கு அப்புடியே இருக்கும்டா!” That captures my reaction to this truly well-made movie, one that will leave its mark on Tamil cinema. Worth watching many times over.

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While Google started rolling this feature out to Gmail users immediately after the announcements, Google Apps users had to wait, as usual, for the roll-out. My wait ended last week, and I lurrve Priority Inbox so far.

While I’m not amazed, I find Gmail’s ability to learn — or so I think — from my classifications very useful. I can vouch that over 80% of the emails that hit my inbox are unimportant, a large number of which are totally useless — pictures of cute babies, regurgitated advice, newsletters that I don’t care to read, and nuggets from the verified spam folklore (of the “Microsoft will pay you $243 for forwarding this email” type). Almost none of these emails have hit my Priority Inbox, after I had classified emails of that type as not being of priority. In fact, I have used this as my excuse to remove myself from as many subscription lists as possible.

Priority Inbox doesn’t really solve my email overload problem though. I get to most of my emails first on my phone anyway. The feature would be extremely useful for those who check their email through their computer, or the Gmail web app. I would love it Gmail will let a user set a filter for emails in the Priority Inbox. If this were possible, I would create a label for these emails, and check this folder first. If anyone knows of a workaround, I would love it if you could share it with me. I am going to submit a feature request.

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At one level, the use of “elite” to describe the new meritocrats simply means that the word has lost its meaning. As Jacob Weisberg points out, when Sarah Palin, Christine O’Donnell or — bizarrely — Justice Thomas’s wife  fling the word “elitist” at opponents, it often means nothing more than “a person whose politics I don’t like” or even “a person who is snobby.” But after listening to O’Donnell’s latest campaign ads — in which the Senate candidate declares proudly, “I didn’t go to Yale . . . I am YOU” — I think something deeper must be going on as well.

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The tactile experience of reading is also crucial to my reading pleasure. Holding a book compares to nothing short of a baby’s contact with his favorite blankie. Consistent with Ackerman’s findings, a hardback is superior to a paperback precisely because it is more solid, weightier and, therefore, more permanent, more important, better.

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