It’s raining SUVs

In those days, SUVs were known for their sizes, ruggedness, macho looks and for being a fuel guzzler. The major attribute of a SUV is that they would possess a size that would directly divert the road’s attention to them. Its impeccable off-roading ability, the high ground clearance and the traditional looks were the flagship of any SUV known to mankind. As time progressed, technology seeped into the crevices of obsoleteness and they evolved to become mean, huge machines of power.

Gone are those days when an SUV used to be huge and massive. People wanted the ease of drive of sedans and the looks of an SUV which gave rise to a specific class of vehicles called the crossovers. With the over the top fuel prices and the slurry of vehicles on the road, SUVs were not the car aficionado’s discerning choice. Their bulkiness was not easy to be tamed and along came the class of baby SUVs. The utility of a SUV boxed in the size of a sedan and frugal like a hatch is the USP of the entire baby SUVs in the market.

The flurry of the new entrants was fuelled by the demands of such a niche segment. People wanted something that was a part of both the worlds, easy on the pocket and less frequented to the fuel stations.

In India, the start was Premier’s Rio which flunked mainly due to the lack of showrooms, service outlets and a lacklustre design. But soon, Renault launched the Duster which, even though, followed a crude interior design, drove through the hearts of the people. Ford went for the kill with its amazingly designed Ecosport. The futuristic designed mini SUV locked its dimensions at 3999mm length to get the tax concessions making it even easier for the pocket. Along came the badge engineered Nissan Terrano which was a pricier makeover of the Renault Duster. Even though it had a design that looked dated, Renault’s offering had value was the best seller in this segment.  

The likes of these SUVs are gaining good traction in sales volumes. To engage in this fierce competition, the other car makers too are entering this arena. Hyundai’s Creta and Maruti Suzuki’s S Cross are the first ones to join the party.

Hyundai Creta: Launching on the 21st July, Hyundai’s latest offering is a sure shot head turner. At 4.2m length, Creta is the first diesel automatic SUV with a 6 speed offering (borrowed from the sibling Elantra) in this price belt. Touted to be priced between 8-12 lakhs, Creta’s range would be offering a host of safety and luxury features. With 3 engines on offer, Creta would come in 4 variants from the basic S to the top SX(O).    

Maruti S Cross: Unveiled at the IIFA awards on 7thJune 2015, this Maruti offering would be a powerful offering if priced right.  Based on the S Cross platform, this muscular cross would be coming in both petrol and diesel, the latter being Fiat sourced. The Ciaz inspired cabin and a host of other safety and luxury features, along with the legendary Maruti trust would make the S-Cross a discerning choice. 

Lets just say that the spite is going to get even more powerful. 

Stay tuned for the test drive reports!! 

The Busride Chronicles

The scorching heat had unveiled its wrath to the fullest as the fifth bus overtook me without a whiff of guilt. The expanses on either sides of NH7 lay barren with a few strays wandering limp and dehydrated.

The mirage of seeing many a bus made my hopes soar and dampen on understanding the truth of the eye’s magnificent mistake. 
The yearning for momentary pleasure of clutching the handle bar of a bus and feeling the icky plasticky seats had reached its peak. Finally the oncoming rickety old bus slowed down for testing the incoming passenger reflex. There is just a moment to get in the bus. And failing to sync the right moment with the driving would mean dangling down the handle bars or even worse, kissing the mud on the ground. 
Well, the yearning to get in stops, kickstarting the desire to get out. The never lasting host of desires is a characteristic of the common man. While the battle of desires wages war, I sit on the dilapidated seats of bus whose legroom was set eyeing the dwarfs and midgets. The suffering of the leg to squeeze in numbs the blood flow to the lower part of the body, giving the upstairs copious amounts for quality thoughts. 
The conductor enters asking people for tickets. The folded notes and bundle of tickets in his hands, he goes squealing ‘tickets’ in a baritone. Buying tickets and the horizontally folded balance from the balding man whose eyes hinted remorse or last night’s hangover, I surveyed the surroundings. People were ingressing and degressing the bus at regular intervals. The naive innocence of the village folk and nonchalance of lives lighting up in the way they talked made me realise how much filth has piled up in the city mouse in me. 
The bus stops at a make shift tea stall where driver leaves the bus idling while he stands out stretching and puffing away rings of acrid cancerous smoke. The tea shop boy brings him a plastic cup of piping hot tea. Caffeine and nicotine pumped him side by side, awakening and rejuvenating him after a supposedly hectic monotonous day. Ready to take off, he got in and chugged the key. The rackety engine rose to life with a groan. 
There were hawkers plummeting into a bus everytime it stopped at a big junction. There were samosas, pineapples, cucumbers, water melons and many more. The aroma of those went in and triggered a gastronomic response making people go for buying. Rummaging their money sources for coins and loose change, they bought their item of desire and started indulging the momentary pleasure. As the bus kicked off from the junction, the hawkers would make haste in collecting money and jumping off the bus. Some unlucky ones would run behind the bus for the cash till it reached an unsurpassable speed. Weary eyed and having lost a potential sale, they would walk back. The freebie wielding man would gobble the succulence of the fruit which would house in it a curse of a common man. 
The winding village roads and occassional entry to the highway was in a  way a fun journey. The unpolluted air brushing against the face was one of its kind in this part of the country.  
People were getting down at their destinations and moving to pursue their daily activities of life. As the cycles of the clock moved, I too stepped down and made my way through the blazing sun. 

School chale hum

A year has passed since my life has been revolving around schools. While everyone’s lifr was a transition from schools to colleges to confinement of a cubicle, mine went from school to college  and back to the place where we spread wings. 


Each interaction made me delve into the rich memories of my childhood. 


The gleeful chanting of memorising the formulae, the innocent peering at each other, the doleful looks when a test is announced and the puissant surge of energy when the last bell rings- all are just characteristics that reminds us of the good old days at school. 

The happiness of learning and joy of understanding coming onto you is a feeling that needs no mention. The sweat stinking classrooms with the pungent lunchbox odour makes the heart meltin a  cranky pot of nostalgia.  

The kids being uplifted as the men and women with mettle to lead the country to the world and the world to a better place to be. 

The kids who miss out on the chance to kindle the wick of knowledge- let thou soul be enriched with an opportunity to learn and let learn. 

‘Macha’nism!

Bewildering thoughts and boisterous ideas

Ideals worth its weight in gold
With a fag on his lips 
Stands the man, clad in red and blue
A thought leader he is
Cognizable thinker to be
Wanting to spread the light of entrepreneurial glitz 
Walks the man of utmost wit
In his years of prime, did he have his bonnie may
Left him for the world ahead
Not knowing that he had it in him
The potential to be her universe

Hand in hand, heart in heart!


She hinted with a tinge
He asked her without cringe
She said yes!
And there it started!

Laden with subtle ornate charm 
The stage is set to endear
For the Gods have endowed them with love
And blessed them with grace
The plinths hail them success
The auburn sheen on the lamp reflects the glory
The artistic touches on the mandap 
All in place for your start of life

The garlands exchanged is a vow resorted
To be for each other, no matter what
To be with each other, forever
Let love alone prevail

Oh, dear friend,
Adorning the vermilion mark of promise 
She starts her life with you
Never let her drop a tear of despair
Clasping the cusps of her hands, 
The father of the damsel lets a sigh
A sign of belief in thou
Thy shall never let her down

Oh, dear girl,
He is a nice man
A man of words, set in solid gold
Grab a hold
For you shall travel miles
He shall not leave you
Forever shall his love for you kindle
I wish thee a happy married life….

Onam Movie Reviews

Onam is not only the festival for Malayalees but also a festival for the film fraternity of the state. 
The Onam releases that were expected to pull in people in large numbers are Peruchazhi, Rajadiraaja, Villaliveeran, Saptamashree Thaskarah and Bhaiyaa Bhaiyaa.  
Peruchazhi: The Mohanlal starrer hit the screens a week before Onam. Touted as a major entertainer, the movie failed miserably in terms of the expectations. The comedy rarely makes the lips curl. Baburaj and Aju Varghese, the aides of Lal were a disappointment. The story lacks content and punch. 
Verdict: watch only for the killer looks of Mohanlal. The die-hard Lalettan fan couldnt fall for the movie. 
Rating: 1.5/5
Raajadiraaja: The movie looks like a myriad adaptation of Baasha where the story falls short by several notches. Mammooty looks awesome with the beard and fares decent with his acting. However Joju George stole the show with his timings and quirkiness. The movie is a strict one time watch but still can make you disappointed. The action was blown out of proportions. The script was flaccid and nothing new to offer. 
Verdict: Mammooty is back with a bang but the bang did not seem loud enough. For the mass loving Mammukka fans
Rating: 2/5
Villaliveeran: From the Janapriyanayakan, this is not what we wanted. Sans a very few comedies from Shajon and Dharmajan, the movie is unbearable in terms of everything. Dileep has lost the flair of acting compared to what we wanted from him. The heroines were just props unwanted. 
Verdict: watch only if the movies on TV bore you. 
Rating: 1/5
Sapthamashree Thaskarah: This is the Onam movie that we were waiting for. This is that movie the one that clearly demarcates  the fine line between good and fine movies. Prithviraj with his subtle acting and Asif Ali with his fervent penchant for ruggedness kept the show going. Everyone did their best in the movie but it was Chemban Vinod who was the star of the show.  With his impeccable irreproducible Thrissur accent, Vinod took the audience to roll. Neeraj Madhav as Narayanankutty took innocence to a different level. 
Verdict: Despite a letdown compared to the debut movie of the director, this is a good watch for the festival season. 
Rating: 3/5
 

All in a day’s flight

The tarmac seemed incredously bullish as the overladen, late running flight inched its way lazily on a cloudy and extremely groggy day. The flabs of fat that had accumulated all over me wobbled as the whole plane shuddered in anguish as a reply to woes on the pitiful runway of the Chennai International Airport.

Earlier, the fare wars by all the low cost carriers in the nation had peaked in all the airports running them into paradigms of operational ineffeciency.

The extremely sensous airhostesses were continuing their bored recorded monotone, greeting the tired customers who yearned for a seat rather than that red lipstick clad lip curlings. The wait for over an hour to get into the respective gates had made most of the customers grumpy. Add to the woes were the passengers who pooled up to form illicit lines or jump the queues stating lame reasons like boarding calls, wanna pee etc took the patience into the bidding.

The flight was the perfect fit for what was christened as a low cost carrier. The seats were a slim piece of fabric covering a stingy piece of cushion making your butt cryout over the course of the journey. Cost cutting was evident with the intermittent switching off of the aircon and pay-through-your-nose rates for that bottle of water purchased.

Lucky day it was till reaching the airport, hitching a free ride on Olacabs, thanks to their travel partner MakeMyTrip. I thought my luck was running out when I reached the airport when the jam packed winding queues of people started taking its toll on me, who were eagerly waiting to get to the lounge as early as possible for that dose of caffeine. The driver who picked me up was also in a state of non-alcoholic inebriateness which I assumed to due to being woken up at 3. He was swerving the cab unnecessarily and made me thank Heavens when I reached the airport unscathed.

The engines groaned, chugged and came to life as the metal bird hit the tarmac ready to soar. As the power reached maximum, the 200+ people garnered momentum and pushed off the ground. I could feel the pressure differences crushing and elongating the skull during the ascent. As the craft gained the altitude, the flight reminded me of the bumpy rides in the KSRTC. The petite figurines made way hawking the inedible, hilariously priced food stuff which at the spur of the momemt seemed tempting for the sans-tea-empty tummy, but the experience of experiencing it previously made me stay hungry to stay healthy during the much sought after vacation home.

We began descent after being airborne for less than 30 minutes.It was then, I lifted my eyes and the incessantly prodding fingers off the phone to see the white fluffiness of the vanilla dough up in the sky. The turbulence was making typing a theocldmeh (I actually typed tedious) task. As the descent continued, the lush greenery started appearing with the tinge of monsoons adding vividness to palette. I felt the chugging underneath as the landing gear had opened up the wheel trio.

The pale green was adding hues and the colours were more strong now. We were brushing against the windiness of the coconut trees and touched the soul and soil of the God’s own country.

Touchdown Kochi. Now to grab my bags and run!!

The Flying Mortarboards!

2 years ago, with a heavy heart and weary eyes, we entered the temple of learning. 

50 subjects, millions of assignments, trillions of pages of assigned reading, countless cases, endless lists of powerpoints and an insane list of spreadsheets later, did we just become a little more wiser?

If the answer is yes, quit reading this and pursue satisfying your unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Harvard Business Reviews and The Economists of the world awaits you. 

For all the others who believe that this was the two years that meant life, read on!

We did become more humane, came out of our comfort zones, confronted lives, got crushes and got crushed, bridged the regional gaps, learned new crafts and became craftier. 

We became new individuals, more witty and eloquent, more personified, more strong, diligent, zealous, valiant, industrious, calm, composed, compassionate, elegant and all the more, better dignified human beings. 

To add to that, we stood for each other, regardless of who we were, where we came from, we stood up for our friends. 

As the last thread that was binding us snapped when we received the shard of paper embossed in gold, the inners have already gelled in and formed an inseparable mound of friendship coupled with sparks of love soaked in the ocean of the togetherness that lay frenzy in the course of time. 

50 mugged up subjects, millions of copied assignments, trillions of pages of assigned reading which we did not even bother opening, countless cases which we read and did not understand, endless lists of beautifully animated powerpoints copied and edited from Scribd and Slideshare and an insane list of jigsaw spreadsheets later, we just became a little more of what we really are. 

The mortarboards flew in the air
With a promise kept to spare
Forever shall kindle the flame
Never to be the flame
Friends shall we remain
Till time sets us apart

The Perspective

Didn’t you ever feel for a fact that life is all about perspectives?

After all, what is right and what is wrong?

All that matters is perspectives. 

It is not true for a fact that the sun rises in the east. We took the perspective for granted. Our forefathers took up the direction as a perspective to map the other directions. 

Life is a wild race set upon the calmness, chivalry and cavernous attitude of perspective. We seek the endless meaning of life with either our carnal uncouth barbaric desires or shall relentlessly pursue it with the magnanimity of attitudes. 

If perspectives weren’t a part of the tantrums in life, the whole cycle would be a circle of apathy. If our perspectives on life were moulded in properly with good incline, we would see the brighter side of things. A tube light spreads brightness with its light spreading white vision. If at all we perceive it to be in a negative incline, it is depressing white light throwing sight on to the misery that yearns to be hidden in the folds of darkness. 

Perspectives matter!

But when I wrote this, there weren’t anything, no perspectives, no direction, no right, no wrong. 

If a perspective was put to it, it was directed to kill time!

The Delectable Palate-1

Foodie! 

A tag adorned by anyone and everyone who relishes a good meal.
No one can deny the ambrosia that a hearty good meal provides. 
Not even me!
Well, how do I put myself to the haters side?
I would put myself in a violent strife between the heart and the mind if I were to say so. 
Let me ask you a question!
How would it feel for you to go through the same mundane combination of rice-sambhar-thoran or roti-daal-subzi every day?
We would often put up with an answer saying that ‘No, I was brought up like this. I wouldnt mind this everyday for the rest of my lifetime.’
And then you would start cursing who ever makes this same boring uninteresting menu every day. Be it your mom, wife, cook, the smile coated outers  would be accompanied with under-the-breath-muttering-curses. 
Come some special day, cometh some special dish. Put a mirror in front of you while eating/record you in action, thou shall see a horrendous glee while the pot is opened, followed by a miraculous escapade of saliva forming channels down the mouth. The digging in to the severely tasty dish would be accompanied with some smearing of the gravy around the face. 
With a tinge of boredom that crept up on a day when I was subjected to the usual rice-sambhar-no thoran-only pickle and pappadam menu for the night, it started!

The Delectable Palate embarked a new journey of and for taste!