Paranorally Speaking

A few days ago, I heard a friend mention in passing about a new scary movie made with a hand held camera. It was something of a Blair Witch Project film that seemed to have captured a lot of attention. I figured a bit of research was definitely the way to go before I could muster enough courage to make a decision. Will I be watching it.?? Funny, you think? Yes! Deep rooted? Very.

My fear of the paranormal stems from a childhood that was spent not in Mumbai but my vacations in my native place, Mulki. Stories were shared among friends, family about sightings, apparitions, in some cases even witches and ghouls, that would chill the hearts of the bravest. I could spend a whole evening telling you these and some of them are pretty chilling.. So, yes, I am a believer. And to tell you the truth I have had one experience that I still cannot fully comprehend. I have concluded that it may have been sleep paralysis after much research, but trust me, it takes a lot for me to admit otherwise. And I do, I still cannot explain it. Yet, scary faces don't scare me as much. It is the stuff that cannot be explained that makes me jump. Things moving, inexplicable phenomena that cannot be logically dissected. For every haunted building, there is creaky plumbing, loose door hinges and so many ways to debunk what could be perceived as a haunting.

Yet I crave it more. Thus, this quest began. A few moments on Wikipedia explained how director Oren Pelli wanted to channel his own fears of the Paranormal and create something that will strike terror in the hearts of audiences. This was no latent terror that would linger until the last pod of popcorn was reached at the end of the tub. This was about a serious psychological impression that would keep you awake and fuel your paranoia while your thoughts would swerve and grip your mind as you lay in bed trying to fall asleep. Have you seen 'In the Mouth of Madness?' Paranoia. Borderline dementia. I think the movie does justice to this notion. It has moments when you are holding your breath to see what happens and before you realize, the hair on the back of your neck seems to be receiving radio waves. Kinda like the ending scene in the 'Exorcist' when the demon Pazuzu looks at Father Karras and says, "Can you spare some change, father?" That was probably the scariest moment on film for me. That and Linda's spider walk. If you have seen the movie, you'll know what I am talking about.

Unfortunately, the hype that revolves around 'Paranormal Activity' also stands to kill this very work that was made with a little less than fifteen thousand dollars. Yet it's authenticity in drawing fear convinced the heavy weights at Paramount to release the original version instead of a Hollywood remake. On a personal note, it did make me sit up and blink. While in the movie hall, I was prepared for anything. So, I was not spooked. The audience gasped, muttered even let out screams but I sat there like patience on a fire hydrant. Thank you Uncle Jun. I felt braver than a kid in a candy store. My ears were perked up to hear any scary growls or whispers. My eyes wide open to engage any scary moment, head first.

But what happened last night, is something that made me realize how the movie had left it's lasting impression. I was awake for a good hour and a half. Every time I'd close my eyes, my mind would prompt me to be alert, look out for any signs that may seem uncanny. I'd slowly drift and a sudden thump would wake me up again. You must understand that the guy who lives above me has spent his entire lifetime stomping around his apartment like the Queen's Guards in London doing a cerebral milk run with pants filled with sixpences and pennies. So I debunked it and drifted. Awake again. I thought to myself, it has worked! And so, I urge you. If you get spooked easily but dont think about it much after, you may disregard the film. But if your mind starts to get creative around the witching hours, give it a try. You will not be disappointed.

New post. Dwelling.

Oh how hard the knife twists in my heart. Anger, jealousy, desires. Glory, pride and ambition caress my face with their fingertips as I stand tall stilling circumstance and braving the inevitable. Arms cocked to my side, my gaze affixed on the future as I lift my tired step to walk another mile. The road so far has been such a rocky one, cobbled with a broken heart and scattered with the dusty remains of effort.

Over the mirage a cherished dream lies in suspended animation. Reaching out to be envisaged, held in my hands to be realized, molded in tactility. I have walked for days, months and years. A step ahead, two steps behind and then a leap that would engulf the miles before me with morbid hunger. The soles of my feet are caked with the scars of defeat, these eyes wrought with the joy of resolve. It's time for the next step to follow.

Descent of the Blade

侍 The malleable blade twisted with ease as it sought its descent into his heart. The warrior lay on his knees, his hands gripping the dirt as tiny specks found solace in jaded whorls of his finger tips creating benign traceries within. The cold from the shiny edge spread its wings into his warmth guiding rays of crimson on their outward journey. The first drop fell creating a surreal crown of dust and blood akin to a loving pair of hands reaching out to embrace a loved one.

Outside the battle cried out for more sacrifice, its insatiable hunger echoing the emptiness for which this very campaign was forged. Ominous winds whispered words into the Daimyo banners flying high. The men watched brethren fall to the tumultuous clash of metal and the flesh of selfless heroes as the flames of combat on foot, engulfed everything in its path.

Hadn't this been a recurring dream? Glory written in the silky dust of the battlegrounds by a thousand men clad in armor shining in the caressing rays of the sun as their eyes locked and hymns of victory echoed for innumerable generations to chant. Death was honor bestowed as the annals of Bushi had once promised.

Image: A rare 'Gendai Mumai' Iaito of Shinogi-zukuri construction, from Nihonto Antiques

Tiny Proxy.exe : One Evil Mofo!

Symptoms:

Youtube and/or other SQL based streams dont work or stall halfway.

Any searches using Google /Google toolbar (when the link is clicked) get redirected to various nonsensical sites and the search turns into a wild goose chase.

My friend, your computer has been affected by Tiny Proxy.exe.... the mother of all malwares!

According to Banu.com, "Tinyproxy is a light-weight HTTP proxy daemon for POSIX operating systems, released under the GNU GPL license. Designed from the ground up to be fast and yet small, it is an ideal solution for use cases such as embedded deployments where a full featured HTTP proxy is required, but the system resources for a larger proxy are unavailable."

more here...

The little bastard's On Wikipedia too!

Here's what Tiny Proxy affects:

File name / Threat name / Threats count
C:\Program Files\tinyproxy\tinyproxy.exe//PE_Patch.PECompact//PecBundle//PECompact/C:\Program Files\tinyproxy\tinyproxy.exe//PE_Patch.PECompact//PecBundle//PECompact
Infected: Trojan.Win32.Agent.atpj 1
C:\Program Files\tinyproxy\tinyproxy.exe Infected: Trojan.Win32.Agent.atpj 1
C:\WINDOWS\SYSTEM32\900053\900053.dll Infected: not-a-virus:AdWare.Win32.E404.jf 1

This malware is so nasty, it has been also known to affect Ubuntu & OSX!

Solution:
I've had this issue and last night, my friend Arun suggested a program called AVG to remove this small but troublesome worm.

It worked! Download AVG for free from here:

http://free.avg.com/

Movie Review: Ghajini

Everytime a Bollywood director attempts to remake a Hollywood Blockbuster, I think they fail to realize how important it is to try and create a legible variant which can still be appreciated. Even Uncle Marty has been inspired by movies from the East and delivered a classic like 'The Departed'.

Alas! A.R. Murugadoss didn't make an effort in spite of having a character actor like Aamir at the helm. Don't get me wrong, Aamir is an amazing actor-director-producer and in my opinion a gem in Bollywood, but what was he thinking when he read the script? Memento had a profound plot related in the most intriguing reverse chronological weave that engages the viewer and challenges one to piece the story together. Even before Batman Begins and the Dark Knight, I had invested stock in Christopher Nolan. Of course, even if Murugadoss chose not to use this method, I feel that a good script could have made this film a good attempt. And some parts in plot do keep you on the edge of your seat. Unfortunately, a clear-soup thin overall plot, awful background score a la Rahman (quite unheard of, right?) and unnecessary use of songs in the story telling make this film feel silly and incomplete. The only song that appears in place is 'Kaise mujhe tum mil gayi' picturized on Aamir befitting the transitional stages of the plot. Whoever did the wardrobes for Aamir needs to get their fashion sense right. Business attire is not about rolling a half sleeve shirt while sporting a vest!

Aamir is intense, scary and downright menacing. I commend him on all those four hour, sixteen egg-whites-a-day, two-and-half-million rupees muscle milk powered workouts. He is the sole survivor in this celluloid carnage. Asin is naturally cute, but does push the barriers of mandatory-cuteness while looking astounding in some scenes. Jia Khan is as useful as grenade in a bowl of oatmeal. Thanks, Foghorn Leghorn. This girl needs to feed on a few Mickie Dees before prepping up for another peel-my-eyelids performance. The soundtrack is brilliant, every song is catchy and hummable. But the background score is a mix of mortifying scowls and belligerent electronica that only interfere with the nonexistent storyline penned by a four year old on a sugar high. I wont go into the details of the plot, I dont intend to be the spoiler wax bearer. If you ask me, wait for the DVD even if you decide to see it.

Familiar bitching continues! Ave Maria!

Well, well if it isn't our friendly neighborhood sociopath... After claiming to sincerely and earnestly continue the keyboard clack resonance for a while, my mind's proverbial nut sack went on an unplanned hiatus. For reasons better kept as secrets locked in the deepest receptacle of my left ventricle, the inner author squatted, placed a wet towel on his head and fondled his favorite rubber ducky leaving a sign in it's wake that read 'Everything must go..'

Work consumed me like the Nyquil addict who collects those transparent little caps with countless amber vials piled and rolling within their filth in the mirage beyond. I had not put a finger to a keycap in a lustful yet cerebral sort of a way in months! Was I dying? Or was it the disapperance of the one dollar menu at the local McDonalds that had left an ominous vapor trail resembling a Pinata that had crossed the proverbial border without ample paperwork?

The mind wanders in the strangest of places. An hour long talk with a friend just a few minutes ago had me drawing similarities seen in childrens books written by Stephen King's intern. The meaty part of a conversation with Achin always constitutes him decoding a birth mark on my forehead that translates to 'thou shall pick on thy mate, so help me god!' So here we were talking about this and that while he kept on driving me to accept how dull my life is without the cankle of a feminine influence playing the love interest.

To whit I could only derive one conclusion. To me Achin resembles a tubby six year old on a warm Christmas evening wearing a flannel shirt, burgundy suspenders, olive green shorts and a matching bow tie. His neatly parted hair ruffles to one side, as he pants away trying to gather his breath from the run he made across the living room to get to the kitchen. His eyes gleam in the crackle of the fireplace as the embers light up his transfixed gaze set upon a bright white cookie jar sitting on the topmost shelf of the cabinet. The jar is shaped like a smiling, tubby jack rabbit with it's hands clasped around it's belly sporting a red sash barely able to hold the rolls of pudge that accentuate the charming yet subtle personality of this bunny. As the seconds tick and tock from the grandfather clock across the cabinet, the bunny's big black cartooned eyes roll from side to side as if mocking the boy to dare and lay his hand into the jar and reach for a cookie... And by Joe how can he resist!?!

Picture Source: Gallowaytwo's Flickr Photostream

How India celebrates Obama's victory!

Righteousness, modesty, equality, love and change has prevailed!

God Bless America!

Let Peace prevail on this beautiful planet of ours that has been hurting.