#ajithism

[fullypics]

Thunivu Ajith Latest Click 📸 . . . #ajith #ajithkumar #ajithkumarfans #ajithshalini #ajithfans #thalaajith #ajithfansclub #ajithism #thala60 #thalaajith #thalafans #thalapathy67 #thunivu #newrelease #actorpics #actorslife #tamiltvshows #tamilactress #tamilcinema #tamilmovie #tamilstatus #tamiltrending #tamilactors #tamilwhatsappstatus #tamilmovies #kollywoodactor #kollywoodcinema #fullypics https://www.instagram.com/p/Clxpm95rL27/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gregor-samsung]

English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde - 2012)

[one-divides-into-two]

Though other classes and social sections will be important partners in the historical movement to destroy capitalism (its highest stage of imperialism) they cannot provide leadership. In each instance the issue of liberation is specific – land in the case of landless peasants, caste oppression for Dalits, male chauvinism for women, ethnic oppression for Adivasis, national oppression for oppressed people, religious persecution for minorities and so on. Being specific they are also partial, in the context of the whole revolutionary project. But this is not the situation of the proletariat. Capitalist bondage is different from earlier exploiting systems like caste-feudalism. It imposes no other compulsion on the workers other than the pangs of hunger. And since, in principle, they are free, there can be no specific liberation suiting them. Every form of exploitation and oppression must be ended. Thus the emancipation of the whole of humanity becomes a precondition for the liberation of this class. The leading role of the proletariat derives from this objective social position. It obliges the proletariat to continue the revolution all the way up till realising a world rid of exploitation.

If this Marxist understanding of proletarian leadership is absolutised it would certainly lead to reification. Both the history and present of the international communist movement illustrate how this emerges with mechanical equations, where proletariat = revolution and communist party = vanguard. On the other hand, economist impulses often seen in the upper strata of the proletariat, social passivity engendered by revisionist, reformist politics that strengthen this economism, and changes seen in the nature of labour and work places, have given rise to views that abandon the proletarian leadership concept. Carried away in the tide of identity politics, they believe that, in future, these movements will give leadership to social change.

Thus we have the two. At one end, reification of the proletariat and the communist party, selfishness that hoists this banner to justify fleeting necessities as common interests. At the other, the lethargic plea to reduce our sights to the partial, to abandon the noble task of an exploitation free world since it is a mere myth. Maoism cuts through this vicious circle. The leading role of the proletariat and the vanguard position of its communist party are potentialities contained in historical circumstances. They can only be realised through creative intervention in the historical moment of a specific society. Similar to other phenomena, this too is a unity of opposites

Ajith, On the Maoist Party

[husn-e-bahar]

Kandukondain Kandukondain (2001)

[vyorei]

Ajith Sunghay on meeting released Palestinian prisoners

[neengareadynaaready]

back to posting random pics of vijay and ajith

Last pic is "And this is how you put the ring on him. Surya, pay attention."

[sampigehoovu]

the faint smell of rain hitting the earth

Kundavai x Vandiyadevan 

Kandukondain Kandukondain AU

Yes, or no?

It was another day, with another potential groom arriving at her doorstep; to scrutinise and judge her. She wore the red silk saree, simple and plain with the gold kaasu chain. As she put long strands of jasmine in her hair, the doorbell rang. 

“Get the door,” her mother’s voice rang from the kitchen, where she was probably frantically frying bajjis for the visiting family. She sighed, flattened her hair once more before she pulled the latch and swung the door open wide. 

There was no family. Just one man. 

A sudden wave of shyness swept through her, she looked down. 

Dressed in brown pants, a very dull shirt over another checked shirt. She dared to steal a glance at his face. A head full of curly hair, a scruffy beard and dark brown eyes that were staring into hers. Startled when she met his eyes, he turned away, raising his hands to run it through his hair.

Vandiyadevan felt a sudden wave of shyness too, this woman standing in front of him was breathtaking. The red of her saree, the strands of jasmine falling over her shoulders, the elegant hand twisting the door knob, her light brown eyes, which he unexpectedly toppled into. Was she the owner of the house? Sensation and thought returned to him, he was here to do something else! 

He stepped in, “Hi, I’m Vandiyadevan,” he held his hand out. Before she could take it in hers, her mother came bounding out to greet him.

“Come in, son, come in! Have you come from the US?”

“Yes, New York. How did you know?”

“Did you come alone?”

He had looked thoroughly confused, this should have been Kundavai’s first warning but she just stood as he said, “I like handling things in a straightforward way." He brushed past her and walked in with her mother.  The calming breath she took in brought with it traces of tobacco, sweat, dust and sandalwood? Would the smoking be a problem, she wondered as she followed him into the main hall where her mother insisted she stay while they spoke. 

Vandiyadevan was awestruck by the house, it was perfect! He just had to get their permission to shoot now. He had begun the conversation and it had all gone downhill from there. They had mistaken him for a potential groom! The beautiful girl in the red saree had not said yes to giving them permission to shoot at her home, but to marry him. 

He was pushed out of the house, thoroughly annoyed by the entire episode until he had seen her standing on the balcony, crying. There he was, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Only, she must have been more heartbroken. She had seen him looking, quickly wiping away her tears, but not hiding. He had walked back to where the film crew was working, in awe of this woman who he had just met, and who had agreed, in some twisted way, to marry him! 

. 

. 

.

When Arunmozhi had asked her, in a fit of his poetic inspiration, what kind of man she had wanted to marry, she had said, “I want him to have kind eyes.” 

The man sitting in her living room, with those brown eyes that reminded her of coffee and somehow the faint smell of rain hitting the earth, had kind eyes. Pushed to a corner, despite her misgivings, she had said yes, she’d marry him. He was handsome, and seemed like an educated young man, what was the worst that could happen? 

“The car met with an accident!”

“I’m an assistant director, I came to ask permission for a shoot!”

Her stomach had dropped, her hands growing cold when she realised he was not the potential bridegroom. A total stranger who had not come for her hand, but something else entirely. She was initially mortified, at the confusion only for a wave of utter humiliation to take over her when she realised that she had agreed to marry someone she had barely spoken a word to. She ran to the terrace, tears streaming down her face without her even noticing. 

When she had moved to her grandfather’s village with her mother and her younger brother, she had made her peace with many changes. From spending her time with computers and codes, she had jumped into administering not just an educational institution, but various other organisations and charities her grandfather had started. She accepted her changing roles in life with grace. Her mother, who had taken over the running of the household, depended on her. Her younger brother, a dreamer who only came alive to poetry. Along with her ailing grandfather, they formed the centre of her life in the small village that had unexpectedly become home. 

Her fiance’s death had been unexpected, she had never had much attachment to the man but he had died and left her with the taint. But she had accepted that too, she was not auspicious or lucky, she would not marry into some family and be called the Lakshmi of the house. She was cursed by the stars and there was no amount of pujas or penances that would solve the problem. Yet, her mother kept trying to find her a suitable groom. As the years went by, they had become less suitable and more desperate. Her mother kept trying and she did not have the heart to tell her that it was a hopeless quest. Kundavai, the perfect daughter, was not so perfect after all. 

She felt eyes on her, there he was, Vandiyadevan looking up at her from the street. He seemed mortified by the entire episode too, but he had not been the one to blame. He was not cursed, as she was. She wiped away her tears, and couldn’t bring herself to look at him again.

---

I love Sense and Sensibility, I love Kandukondain Kandukondain. They adapted the novel to both the context and the time so well. Tabu played Elinor/Sowmya with such grace and ease.

Kundavai and Elinor/Sowmya seemed alike in the way that they take up responsibility for their families, which was the only strand of similarity I could find but I ran with it. More to come as I rewatch the movie and reread the book!

[shuknopadma]

Baazigar (1993) dir. Abbas-Mustan

Vaali (1999) dir. S.J. Suryah

[greengoldfish]

Today a coworker and a partner complimented my email. For someone who hasn’t updated her wips since September, it’s such mood lifting, over the moon, walking on cloud nine feeling. I’m just so glad I haven’t lost touch with my writing. Here’s a little taste of my soulmate AU for celebration.

Her partner that night was patient and perfect. The long and slow pace he kept complimented exquisitely the deep angle as he entered her from behind. There was something so familiar in the way he worked her body, so natural and seamless, urging her to her own seemingly without his aid; and yet, the careful protective warmth of his body enveloping her, the feathered breathing kisses on the nape of her neck, the firm hand holding up her pelvis, all spelled a meticulous deliberate plan built upon long observation and preparation. She should know who he is. A partner this skillful was hard to come by with her life’s choices. She would have at least remembered his name if only for the practical purpose of contacting him next time. But she was befuddling warm, and wilfully pliant in his arms; and the butterfly kisses he was peppering from the arching wings of her shoulders to the prospective land behind her ears were tantalisingly silken sweet. His tempo was picking up ever so subtly, and her control slipped far too eagerly. She could have sworn she tried, really she did, to fight her own body, stalling the coming ultimate. A lifetime of surviving in the shadow had the unwanted, yet vital effect of keeping her instinct razor sharp and her control iron moulded. She tried crawling out from under his hug, changing the way their narrative was flowing, but her hidden partner seemed to have also prepared for this situation. His hand, closing tightly earlier around a handful of sheet before her eyes, now gently fitted itself over her beseeching fingers; and her until then mysterious partner murmured softly in her ear with the voice she did not always often heard, but still elated for it every time.

“Let go, Diana.”

Then, Diana blinked, and was bewilderedly wide awake.

When her fingers went under the duvet to probe, she felt embarrassingly warm all over despite the running AC. The dream left her desperately wet and swollen, and a surprise moan escaped her lips before restraint kicked in. It took her no time at all to reach the conclusion denied by her unconscious dream, though her fingers seemed no match for the size her brain had come up with on his behalf, but her own knowledge of her body compensated for the job mostly done. Afterwards, when she muffled her remaining moans into the pillows, his voice was still echoing behind the darkness of her eyelids, lingering like the phantom warmth reflecting off the golden sand long after the bright sun had set, but the surreal intimacy of the dream that lapped quietly at the edge of her heart left its sombre imprint, and the gratified waves of her pleasure were sodden in their ubiquitous longing song.

[fishyyyyy99]

It makes me so happy that Devi finally ended up joining the long list of Tamil heroines who did dance numbers at weddings. I've included a few in this post.

Shaila Banu in Bombay (1995)

Neelambari in Padayappa (1999) [I know she's not the heroine, but how can one not include the iconic Neelambari in this list?]

Shakthi in Alai Payuthey (2000)

Shruti in Ahaa Kalyanam (2014)

Devi (and Kamala) in Never Have I Ever (2023)

[gregor-samsung]

English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde - 2012)

[aspiring-asparagus]

Barbenheimer wishes it was Ajith VS Vijay

[lady-shadow-and-darkness]

I love how everyone mocks celebrities but you all are still watching them and talking about them. Me, personally? I couldn't tell you a single "fun fact" about a celebrity. Am I asking for praise for this? No. I literally don't care. If you really hate the celebrities you claim to hate, you wouldn't be talking about them. Giving them attention is GOOD for them.

BTS got into this scandal this, Lizzo got into that scandal that, Jojo Siwa did uhh i don't even fucking know WHO CARES???

[thecrazyinktrovert]

God took an extra day to create THEM. Ft. Kollywood

1) Trisha Krishnan as Kundavai in Ponniyan Selvan (2022-2023)

2) Aishwarya Rai as Nandhini in Ponniyan Selvan (2022-2023)

3) Shalini as Shakthi in Alaipayuthey (2000)

[saadiaaf]

Kandukondain Kandukondain (Rajiv Menon, 2000)

[neengareadynaaready]

I hope by this time no one is surprised that I'm posting a lot of vijay pics. I mean no explanation is required.