You know, there are some journals with names like " Neurotransmitter Newsweekly" and "Quadrant Journal of Analytical Psychology", that keep coming out of esoteric presses regularly. You and I will not flip through them even if paid to do so ; but there is one dedicated tribe of studious people in South India who are always busy poring through these strange magazines. They are called Script Writers. And they keep excavating data about new and newer mental illnesses to spice up their wonderous celluloid tales. They have fleeced "Amnesia" to coma . Moondram Pirai was cloned mercilessly.There was that riotous reign of schizophreniacs like Anniyan and Chandramukhi, with a snazzily tattooed Sanjay Ramaswami thrown in for good measure. And now comes Deepavali. But nothing festive about it,alas ! Our heroines are not generally known for commonsense. They keep swinging between "I-Love-You" and "I-Hate-You" for as long as the producer's stock of songs last and we never begged directors for explanations. But some directors volunteer to clarify and this worthy under scan here tells us that this swinging-as-above lady has a disease called "Post Trauma Short Duration Partial Amnesia " or some such . The girl is like a light bulb. An on/off case. She keeps getting traumatised and with each trauma, keeps losing her memory in 6-month blocks . Nice. Six months are enough for her to move to a new town, pick up a fight with a boy, fall in love with him and just in time for the mid-movie "knot in the story", get traumatised again. This same boy had been snubbed and shunted out by the same girl once before her trauma, but she had forgotten about that, post-trauma. Now after trauma No.2, she forgets her grand romance and glares at the boy thinking he is the riff raff she had shunted out pre-trauma no.1. By this time, not only the boy but all of us are getting pretty traumatised and the appearance of the mandatory growling daddy does not help at all. Suddenly, there are goons all over the place, some bashing, some yelling, lots of traumatising all round and we start praying that one of those menacing meanies would clomp his teak log or lead pipe on everybody's heads so that everyone forgets everything and all go home in peace. I should have watched Tom and Jerry instead.