A month in the US

Last night, we drove to Indianapolis to watch a 10 pm show of Bommarillu at the IMAX theatre in Washington Street, that makes it my first movie in the US. Listening to a lot of praise for that movie, I went in expecting a movie that well, deserved all that praise. The movie, was not bad, and especially for a director working within the parameters of the love story with disagreeing parents, it was a fine job. But, we have Prakash Raj realising his faults as a father for the 40th time, Dharmavarapu playing the not anymore funny college lecturer, a heroine who wears long flowing skirts everyday and can walk only in hops and jumps and a hero who keeps jumping into the air every 30 minutes. Cliches abound, like in most Telugu films. The film was enjoyable though for some of its moments, but it's not a film that will be remembered once its run is over. In spite of all it attempts to say about a father-son relationship, there isn't anything profound.

Life's getting to usual, with classes and assignments. My only complaint is that my weekends are occupied with group assignments. The classes have been fun. On the first day of our HCI class, the professor tore open a packet of ketchup from McDonald's and squeezed all the ketchup onto a sheet of paper, then he did the same again, then again, four packets in all, before he threw the sheet with all the sauce into the wastebasket. He then distributed chewing gum, band-aid and Tetley tea. By his own admission, his classes are "sometimes weird". In that class, we were marvelling at the good design of some products and criticising the bad design of others. As is evident, the professor really liked the design of the ketchup packet that would open only if you intended to open it. Each one of his classes begins with listening to a music composition, and trying to understand its design.

In another class on informatics, the professor talking about the notion of semantics, gives us the example of a metaphor that takes different meanings in different contexts. He chooses "banging on the hips", from a poem. He tells us how a catholic upbringing would give one the meaning of a dance where you bang on the sides and then about the other meaning of sexual intercourse, while actually making gestures to indicate the two. The examples are always full of life and he always talks self-deprecatingly about his family and his former job studying the effects of shampoo on hair.

I am getting to meet more people, and I am slowly reaching that stage when I will be beginning a conversation without being asked to repeat my first line. At the place I am staying, there're a lot of Indians, and it's beginning to feel like home when I get back. I am not sure, what kind of a person two years here will turn me into, I hope I will like the end-product.