[There have been complaints from many reader friends (actually, from only two) that there is no apparent connection between the title and what I have written in the first six parts. Be patient. I am using memory pills (actually, injections) and a lot of Brownian Motion Generators (some call it Hot Liquid Coffee) to bring these things out from Chaos. The medicine was borrowed for this purpose, from Rastapopoulous of Flight 714, in an alien encounter at Pulau Pulau Bompa, near Philippines. The medicine, as readers of Tintin (by Hergé) would recall, works linearly in personal memory retrieval. In my case, it has started in Srirangam, in a time somewhere before I was born. To add delight to the drivel, the Brownian Motion generators help maintain the local randomness in Time. Proceed]

If you don't get what a cart is from the meandering narrative in Part VI, let me know why. For the moment, don't lose heart, as I am about to suggest you a thrilling alternative (especially for the summer).

Go watch a comeback Vijayakanth movie or any of Ramarajan's movies, for that matter.

The climax of such Tamil movies usually involves these carts with their kadayani (what's the English? axle-stoppers?) promptly removed as a clever ploy, by the villain's group, usually headed by the hatchet men, Napoleon or Mansoor Ali Khan.

They are the hatchet men because they normally carry a long hatchet, hidden in their back. This is their identity card, which you get to see before dying, especially if you are one among the extra-characters in the earlier part of the movie. In the climax, these villains pull out these hatchets carefully, without tearing the white shirts they wear, and brandish it in front of the cameraman. The effect of the scene on the audience, as is necessary for a climax, is much the same to that when Jim Carey, as the Mask, pulls an oversize hammer out of his pocket.

Hilarious! The kids (in us) love it!

One caution though, before beginning to watch these movies. Make sure you watch them only on videotape, along with a 'remote' with the 'fast forward' option. Otherwise you may sleep or puke and reach climax before the movie reaches its. On second thoughts, I would recommend this caution for most of the Tamil movies (and all of the Telugu movies) after 1970.

In fact, after getting used to the comfort of the 'fast forward', by reflex, I have tried doing this to most of the TV programs that my friends watch. I would in fact be doubly happy, when in the future, people also come with this fast forward option (at least, to the parties that I get to attend).

Imagine, the conversation starts something like this

"Hi,"

"Whassup?"

and you press 'fast forward' and the person (babe) in front of you goes,

"whatsyoursunsign,oh!,car,monyluvchiolesigh....BLIP" Thud. Silence.

Oh, I am sorry. Did I 'fast forward' too much?

A bit morbid, but useful.

Until technology improves to this delectable future, I have to be contented with my alternative, which works fine, at least with the TV. I simply switch it off before beginning to watch it. My friends have stopped bothering me once they understood the foolproof logic - I am watching the TV.

In fact, with unswerving attention and interest, as what I see in it is my reflection...

To be continued...