state of mind...energitic, positive and rearing to go
my body...is happy that i am giving it some respect. i just checked my weight and was horrified!
hooked to...Fifa '08
now reading...Khalid Hosseini's The Kite Runner
learning...to exercise self control
yearning to learn...the guitar (i'm still dying to lay my hands on one)
missing...going to totos
on a humming spree…with Rehab by Amy Winehouse
hate humming...O Jane Jaan by Aatif from Race (because I keep repeating the same lines)
latest favourite...movie- Lives Of the Others
high on...swimming
hung over...my conversation with Kajol yesterday
Hung over again...with the 10 movie DVDS i bought. Yay! And it includes Makhmalbaf's The Cyclist which I have been dying to watch. Yay!
I'm off...booze
favourite food right now...Veggie delite sub
enjoying drinking...orange juice & coffee sans sugar
accessory for the week...my cell phone for its new song list
thinking...how good I can make my life.
dreaming of...my trip to europe
waiting...for April 11 when I take off for the Himalayas
drooling...over the yummy chat I'm going to eat in Solapur at my favourite chatwala
excited about...my kashmir trip
waiting to meet...my cousins in Solapur (going to see them tomorow!)
tired of...the loud music our neighbouring chawl has been playing.
proud of...myself for maintaining strict health discipline for the past 5 days.
enlightenment quotient..."Ask and you shall recieve." "Knock and the door shall be opened."
Friday, March 28, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
The ride
I was taking in the cool waves flowing from the desert cooler on a hot summer afternoon. Aaji had retired into her room. Everyone else was taking a short nap. My mind though was wandering. There was a grey bicycle parked under the tin roof of the garage. I had been dying to ride it and I knew this was my chance. I hurried out, grabbing the key from the keyholder on the wall. I softly closed the door behind me. Even as I unlocked the cycle, there was one thought going on in my head. How will I shut this noisy main gate without making a sound? I had to try. I had to ride. I had just learned how to ride a bicycle and there was a whole new world waiting to be explored in this tiny town.
Every summer I was just cacooned in this place. I knew there was more to this town apart from Vidyanagar. Apart from the garden outside the house, the big ground located in the centre of the colony, maushai's house which was two blocks away, the sugarcane shop where we often went to cool ourselves in the killing heat and Baloo's shop. I never ever asked who Baloo really was? Or why his shop had no other name? But I had to ride beyond his shop now. And there were a lot more things I would love to find out, I thought. I somehow managed to keep the sound of the creeking gate down. Locked it behind me and before anyone could spot me sneeking out I rode out. The breeze was hot and I wished I hadn't got out in such heat. Nani always stopped us from playing outdoors in the afternoon. I used find it very annoying. If I didn't mind the heat, why did she? But now I wished I had listened to her. But soon the thought disappered from my head. I was riding the bike. The very same bike I had first learnt cycling on.
With all those thoughts in my head, I didn't even realise I was crossing Baloo's shop. I had ventured out of the familiar area now. I was free. The feeling was so good that I urged myself to paddle faster. Soon I approached the main road. I could see big vehicles driving down the road which was exactly at a right angle with the small road I was riding on. I was slightly apprehensive about whether I would be able to handle the traffic and the big highway. But somehow there was no fear. I was free after all- an explorer. Riding, feeling the breeze on my face. I took the highway and continued riding with zest. The sun was going down now and the breeze was stronger and cooler. I was smiling and going on and on. I don't remember how long I was riding, when suddenly it struck me that I had come too far. How will I get back home? I braked immediately. I took a right turn thinking that if I had taken a right turn earlier, taking another right could become a full circle and I could reach where I had started. But as I began riding, I became more and more scared as the place felt completly alien to me. Almost like a new town. And before I knew I had tears in my eyes. For the first time I had felt the fear of being lost. Something that was absent when I started my exploration. I had forgotten that explorers too need go back home at some point. The realisation has stayed with me. But that was exactly the point where I realised I knew the name of Nani's colony and I could easily ask around and find my way back. But my sense of direction was good and my instincts were taking me in the right direction. I realised that an explorer apart from a love from adventure, also needs to be careful and rely on his instincts. Before I could think further I was back in familiar territory. I was relieved to be back home. I thanked god a hundred times for being there with me when I needed him. I softly parked the bike in its place and entered the house.
But everything is transitory they say. I had been so glad when Nani had gifted me that very bicycle once I went in my seventh grade. Since the day I had set my eyes on it, I had this strange feeling that it belonged to me. It was the first bike I sat on and the one that taught me how it feels to be a rider. When I grew up a bit we had gone around the city promoting cycling too! But there was someone out there who needed it more than me- so much so that they could steal it from me. Last I had seen it leaning against the pillar in the parking of my building. A little rusted, a little less grey but still the same bike I first sat on.
Every summer I was just cacooned in this place. I knew there was more to this town apart from Vidyanagar. Apart from the garden outside the house, the big ground located in the centre of the colony, maushai's house which was two blocks away, the sugarcane shop where we often went to cool ourselves in the killing heat and Baloo's shop. I never ever asked who Baloo really was? Or why his shop had no other name? But I had to ride beyond his shop now. And there were a lot more things I would love to find out, I thought. I somehow managed to keep the sound of the creeking gate down. Locked it behind me and before anyone could spot me sneeking out I rode out. The breeze was hot and I wished I hadn't got out in such heat. Nani always stopped us from playing outdoors in the afternoon. I used find it very annoying. If I didn't mind the heat, why did she? But now I wished I had listened to her. But soon the thought disappered from my head. I was riding the bike. The very same bike I had first learnt cycling on.
With all those thoughts in my head, I didn't even realise I was crossing Baloo's shop. I had ventured out of the familiar area now. I was free. The feeling was so good that I urged myself to paddle faster. Soon I approached the main road. I could see big vehicles driving down the road which was exactly at a right angle with the small road I was riding on. I was slightly apprehensive about whether I would be able to handle the traffic and the big highway. But somehow there was no fear. I was free after all- an explorer. Riding, feeling the breeze on my face. I took the highway and continued riding with zest. The sun was going down now and the breeze was stronger and cooler. I was smiling and going on and on. I don't remember how long I was riding, when suddenly it struck me that I had come too far. How will I get back home? I braked immediately. I took a right turn thinking that if I had taken a right turn earlier, taking another right could become a full circle and I could reach where I had started. But as I began riding, I became more and more scared as the place felt completly alien to me. Almost like a new town. And before I knew I had tears in my eyes. For the first time I had felt the fear of being lost. Something that was absent when I started my exploration. I had forgotten that explorers too need go back home at some point. The realisation has stayed with me. But that was exactly the point where I realised I knew the name of Nani's colony and I could easily ask around and find my way back. But my sense of direction was good and my instincts were taking me in the right direction. I realised that an explorer apart from a love from adventure, also needs to be careful and rely on his instincts. Before I could think further I was back in familiar territory. I was relieved to be back home. I thanked god a hundred times for being there with me when I needed him. I softly parked the bike in its place and entered the house.
But everything is transitory they say. I had been so glad when Nani had gifted me that very bicycle once I went in my seventh grade. Since the day I had set my eyes on it, I had this strange feeling that it belonged to me. It was the first bike I sat on and the one that taught me how it feels to be a rider. When I grew up a bit we had gone around the city promoting cycling too! But there was someone out there who needed it more than me- so much so that they could steal it from me. Last I had seen it leaning against the pillar in the parking of my building. A little rusted, a little less grey but still the same bike I first sat on.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Times
You wrap your hands around the steering wheel. Those thick short fingers with those bulging veins running down your sturdy hands. They take me to the black and white time. Your hands often shivered. As the light creeped in from the tall glass windows of your room, you picked up that audio cassette and shivered it into the music system. It's your favourite Yanni. I didn't know him then. But I always thought I knew you. You were so gentle, so shy and so scared of hurting me. The moments were so full yet empty. They are heavier to me now as I travel back from that black and white time. Young and restless were we. Now you drive and your hands don't shiver. Something's changed. But I talk and I listen. You remember so much. There was so much you didn't see and so much I didn't see. I know circumstances can blind us. The air is tender again but nowhere close to the time when you showed me your tiny pet turtle. You placed him on your palm and asked me to touch it. Today you send me a messages. Then there was just the old-fashioned phone but you picked it up too late. Saxophone was romance and you gave Kenny G to me. All actions run smoothly through my head but it's the conversations that are muted. Through all the years there were letters, rides in the rain, there was touch, music and play. But just tiny thin threads of muted conversations. As I caress your hands with my eyes, you ask me if you can hold my hand. I allow. I guess I am just making up for the broken conversations.
Me
At 15,
God: Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that ever was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form.
At 25,
Energy: Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that ever was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form.
I am an energy field just like this universe.
God: Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that ever was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form.
At 25,
Energy: Always was and always has been, never can be created or destroyed, all that ever was, always will be, always moving into form, through form and out of form.
I am an energy field just like this universe.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Lives of the Others
How much can a nation's political scenario affect anyone's personal life? if you think it hardly does, you need to catch this one.
and all one requires is one good man to be able to fight an interfering and almost dictatorial establishment. how much can creativity be curbed? How much can a painter or a writer or anyone else be stopped from making a political statement or doing his or her own thing? How much can an individual be stopped from voicing his opinion? If we don't stand up for what we believe in, on a public platform, our government can even monitor us in your own house! It's scary, but it drives you to think how important it is to do what you believe in. Who is the government to decide what you are supposed to believe in, stand for or talk about?
Most touching thing about Lives of the Others is the goodness of a disillusioned man. How far can you go to support what you think is right? Think. Thats what the film makes you do.
"It's for me."- is the last sentence. It deserves an applause.
One of the best films of our times, it is as relevant in our times as it was in the 1980s East Germany.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
enigma
There is something about mystery. The knowledge that there is something out there undiscovered and unexplored, can lead you to unexpected places. The beauty of somethings is best when unexplained and unknown. Enigma is sensuous.
Each time she went to the station to bid him goodbye, she thought it could be the last time for a long long time to come. It could very well be the last time. But she hoped, against all odds that they would meet again, and that she would never have to say goodbye at the Railway station. She cried each time she saw him waving out to her from the window. This time too, there were tears in her eyes. She sent him a message but he didn't reply. Did he feel the way she did? Everything ended. And her worst fears came true. She knew, this time was the strongest she felt. She would never have to see him off again, because he would never come to meet her again. In that moment of pain she thought- he never did feel for me the way I did. And wiped a tear flowing down her cheek. There is no love anymore.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Am I two?
Do I know something more than I consciously know? Is there a doppelganger of sorts, from whose mistakes I learn? Are my decisions mine or are they formulated by someone else—a possible destiny or higher power? There is more than what meets the eye. Am I two?
The Double Life of Veronica or La double vie de Véronique is intriguing. It’s supernatural and mysterious. Music and cinematography, in fact, are the two strongest characters of the film apart from the two Veronicas.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Winter's meeting summer
Winter’s meeting summer now.
Cold winds cross the blazing sun.
An impending storm or an approaching calm?
You come like the coming of an unknown season.
Is this what they call fantasy?
Or is this the real love I’ve been waiting for?
Cold winds cross the blazing sun.
An impending storm or an approaching calm?
You come like the coming of an unknown season.
Is this what they call fantasy?
Or is this the real love I’ve been waiting for?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Why is it so difficult?
I asked myself last night why it was so difficult to move on in life.
Why was it difficult to kill a moment...a date...a time...a letter....a photograph...a conversation...a video...a feeling...the touch...the pain...the joy...Yes, it is difficult to kill a memory.
Yes, it is difficult to kill something you gave birth to, nurtured for years, gave so much of yourself to- including a huge chunk of your thoughts, feelings and emotions and something that had become a part of you.
It is difficult to kill something inside you.
It is difficult but it has to be done because if you don't kill it, it will kill you- slowly but surely.
Why was it difficult to kill a moment...a date...a time...a letter....a photograph...a conversation...a video...a feeling...the touch...the pain...the joy...Yes, it is difficult to kill a memory.
Yes, it is difficult to kill something you gave birth to, nurtured for years, gave so much of yourself to- including a huge chunk of your thoughts, feelings and emotions and something that had become a part of you.
It is difficult to kill something inside you.
It is difficult but it has to be done because if you don't kill it, it will kill you- slowly but surely.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Girls of Riyadh
Sometimes ancient traditional values are hidden so deep under the liberal exterior of some men that it's scary. They like to be with so-called modern women, they like to behave like men who believe in man-woman equality but when it comes to the real situation where they need to put into execution the so-called liberal outlook, the truth- the real underlying conservative attitudes come to the fore. I can talk from experience and it scares me to no end.
Well, this and several thoughts started juggling around in my head after I began reading Girls of Riyadh by Rajaa Alsanea. It is the first book I have come across which deals with the personal lives of women in a conservative middle-east country like Saudi Arabia. But the issues that are spoken about are, I guess, only the exagerated versions of what we see in our own country.
After smoking, drinking and sleeping with his girl friend a guy dumps her because he thinks his parents wouldn't be able to deal with a girl as liberal as her. So what were you doing all along....contemplating how to break the news? Didn't you know this for all the years that you were with her, that she was a 21st century girl with modern values? Shouldn't you have peeped into your conservative roots before hurting the girl? A liberal girl too has a heart, you know?
Well, that is my story. But in Girls of Riyadh this man gets legally married to the girl, and the formal wedding ceremony is a few months away. While he wants to go all out into the physical relationship, each time the girl stops him and tells him to draw the line. Since their wedding date gets postponed, the girl decides to placate him by not stopping him this time around. He goes all the way, then. And after that just stops calling her up. And after three weeks sends a divorce notice without a single dailogue with the girl he had sex with. Wasn't it he who wanted to have sex. How can he judge her on this? It's crazy!
I had recently heard of the story of this guy who was the hypocrite of the first order. He was seeing this girl for a long time. But when asked when he was planning to get married to her, he replied that he wouldn't want to get married to a girl as easy as his girl friend was! This guy lives in one of the most liberal city in India- Mumbai, he is educated and stays in suburb like Bandra. Who will be able to figure out or believe that someone like him could be such a hypocrite?
Someone please tell me how to recognise a conservative hypocrite man who disguises as the modern, educated and liberal man of the 21st century! It is one of the most intruiging issues of today's youth.
Well, this and several thoughts started juggling around in my head after I began reading Girls of Riyadh by Rajaa Alsanea. It is the first book I have come across which deals with the personal lives of women in a conservative middle-east country like Saudi Arabia. But the issues that are spoken about are, I guess, only the exagerated versions of what we see in our own country.
After smoking, drinking and sleeping with his girl friend a guy dumps her because he thinks his parents wouldn't be able to deal with a girl as liberal as her. So what were you doing all along....contemplating how to break the news? Didn't you know this for all the years that you were with her, that she was a 21st century girl with modern values? Shouldn't you have peeped into your conservative roots before hurting the girl? A liberal girl too has a heart, you know?
Well, that is my story. But in Girls of Riyadh this man gets legally married to the girl, and the formal wedding ceremony is a few months away. While he wants to go all out into the physical relationship, each time the girl stops him and tells him to draw the line. Since their wedding date gets postponed, the girl decides to placate him by not stopping him this time around. He goes all the way, then. And after that just stops calling her up. And after three weeks sends a divorce notice without a single dailogue with the girl he had sex with. Wasn't it he who wanted to have sex. How can he judge her on this? It's crazy!
I had recently heard of the story of this guy who was the hypocrite of the first order. He was seeing this girl for a long time. But when asked when he was planning to get married to her, he replied that he wouldn't want to get married to a girl as easy as his girl friend was! This guy lives in one of the most liberal city in India- Mumbai, he is educated and stays in suburb like Bandra. Who will be able to figure out or believe that someone like him could be such a hypocrite?
Someone please tell me how to recognise a conservative hypocrite man who disguises as the modern, educated and liberal man of the 21st century! It is one of the most intruiging issues of today's youth.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
A little death
Come take over.
Come make me die.
Bring death upon life.
From every broken heart,
every aching soul,
every failed relationship,
and every lost friend,
comes death, and with it
A little life.
From each destruction
rises a new formation.
So go
deep, deep, deeper.
Reach the deepest spot.
A place from where
I can rise.
Yes, make me come,
make me glow.
For each part of me
I give to you.
Come take me away from myself.
For an orgasm is death—
a zenith.
An exalted state of communion
where we leave ourselves behind.
And die a small death.
So die,
Rise, regenerate, be born.
What’s life without a little death?
Come make me die.
Bring death upon life.
From every broken heart,
every aching soul,
every failed relationship,
and every lost friend,
comes death, and with it
A little life.
From each destruction
rises a new formation.
So go
deep, deep, deeper.
Reach the deepest spot.
A place from where
I can rise.
Yes, make me come,
make me glow.
For each part of me
I give to you.
Come take me away from myself.
For an orgasm is death—
a zenith.
An exalted state of communion
where we leave ourselves behind.
And die a small death.
So die,
Rise, regenerate, be born.
What’s life without a little death?
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Simply put
We all have seen loads of mushy love stories in Hindi films as well as in Hollywood. So what could possibly make yet another light hearted simple romantic film work some magic with the audience? Some of the most-loved movies in the world are films with simple themes and universal expressions. The strongest point of Jab We Met is the simplicity and emotions.
Imtiaz is an intelligent director who knows that, what connects with today's audience are emotions they can identify with. So he keeps it as real as possible. Yes, he puts in bhangra numbers and stretches the second half a little, but what he manages to do is, is to make people fall in love with the film by the time the story approaches it's weak moments. He keeps his characters real in extra-ordinary circumstances and does not go for a dramatic climax. The same elements he used in the not so successful but sweet love story Socha Na Tha.
The strongest point of the film though is the lead pair. Kareena and Shahid look like a dream when they are in the same frame. Their chemistry is amazing- a mix of hot and sweet- and their characters are very strongly etched.
Kareena delivers one of the most memorable performances of her career. She may have big films like the K3Gs and Asoka's to her name, but it is the character of Geet that people will remember her for, in the years to come. At first you think that she's too loud but in a minute or two you begin liking her. She could have easily ended up hamming but her maturity shows as she stops short of it. With dialogues like 'teri maa ki' and 'bachpanse hi mujhe shaadi karne ka bada shauk hai by God', she keeps you in splits. The best thing that Imtiaz did with her is to have her use minimum make-up.
The surprise element of the film though is Shahid Kapoor. There is a whiff of some talent here. A restrained and mature performance keeps you glued even as Kareena takes away all the acolades for her tagda portrayal of a carefree, optimistic Sikh girl.
Imtiaz has done a great job in bringing out the best in these two actors. He has also brought on screen the chemistry that has been missing in their earlier films together. Hopefully we'll get to see them together again. Shahid and Kareena play two believable characters, and do a good job at it. Music is feel good and the use of lesser known actors for other characters actually works in favour of the film.
It's romantic yet not mushy. The story is regular but the exectution is innovative. It's dramatic but not filmi. The situations are extra-ordinary yet believable. Go watch it and feel good about yourself, life, love and everything.
Imtiaz is an intelligent director who knows that, what connects with today's audience are emotions they can identify with. So he keeps it as real as possible. Yes, he puts in bhangra numbers and stretches the second half a little, but what he manages to do is, is to make people fall in love with the film by the time the story approaches it's weak moments. He keeps his characters real in extra-ordinary circumstances and does not go for a dramatic climax. The same elements he used in the not so successful but sweet love story Socha Na Tha.
The strongest point of the film though is the lead pair. Kareena and Shahid look like a dream when they are in the same frame. Their chemistry is amazing- a mix of hot and sweet- and their characters are very strongly etched.
Kareena delivers one of the most memorable performances of her career. She may have big films like the K3Gs and Asoka's to her name, but it is the character of Geet that people will remember her for, in the years to come. At first you think that she's too loud but in a minute or two you begin liking her. She could have easily ended up hamming but her maturity shows as she stops short of it. With dialogues like 'teri maa ki' and 'bachpanse hi mujhe shaadi karne ka bada shauk hai by God', she keeps you in splits. The best thing that Imtiaz did with her is to have her use minimum make-up.
The surprise element of the film though is Shahid Kapoor. There is a whiff of some talent here. A restrained and mature performance keeps you glued even as Kareena takes away all the acolades for her tagda portrayal of a carefree, optimistic Sikh girl.
Imtiaz has done a great job in bringing out the best in these two actors. He has also brought on screen the chemistry that has been missing in their earlier films together. Hopefully we'll get to see them together again. Shahid and Kareena play two believable characters, and do a good job at it. Music is feel good and the use of lesser known actors for other characters actually works in favour of the film.
It's romantic yet not mushy. The story is regular but the exectution is innovative. It's dramatic but not filmi. The situations are extra-ordinary yet believable. Go watch it and feel good about yourself, life, love and everything.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Enough fire in NO SMOKING
It's amazing that except Sarita Tanwar from Mid Day and Indu Mirani from DNA to an extent, none of the critics could criticise the film for what it is. I don't think I should review it then. But I want to share my experiences and impressions as a member of the audience.
Why can't a regular movie goer enjoy Dawid Dhawan's Partner in the same breath as the radical No Smoking? Like my friend said, probably because the audience is not ready to open themselves up to different techniques of cinema. Yes, I understand a large mumber of the audience did not understand the film because they are so used to straight narratives, concrete endings and all answers been given on a platter. But what about the so-called critics?
Have they learnt film appreciation, literary criticism, or even watched and studied World Cinema? I agree that everyone has their own views, but when personal bias, a close minded attitude and arrogance of being a critic creep into your review, I'm sorry that's the end of you as a critic. You CANNOT let your personal bias come in, when you are writing a review. You got to review the film for what it is, not what your opinion about a particular film maker is. Playing politics through your review is sly!
Anyway, I think Anurag has said enough about the reviews on Passionforcinema.com for me to go on and on abou it. Now the film- it is one experience each one of us should go through. The story is open to interpretation because Anurag has refrained from explaining the events. He leaves you to draw your own conclusions. When was the last time a film maker gave that kind of freedom to the member of the audience. Whether it's John waking up in Siberia, or coming out of the tub- what is reality and what is fantasy? The line is blur. Was it a dream? What could have the part about Ayesha Takia going missing mean? Was Paresh Rawal a doc or a con man? Who is on who's side? Think! That's what the film makes you do. It's challening, and you feel mentally stimulated as you witness the going ons.
The influences from graphic novels and the Chaplin-style flashback could have looked gimmicky, but Anurag carries them off with so much style that they end up impressing you. It's great to come out of a movie hall thinking about the movie you just watched. Yes, you come back with more questions than answers but it is one movie that will stay with you for a long long time to come.
Isn't it a fantastic experience to delve into the realms of the subconscious? To cross the boundaries between realism and fantasy? Who said that's not entertaining? Yes, the film is not perfect. But which one is? I know that being a completely out of the box film, it is subject to more harsh criticism than others. Who has been accepted instantly for being different? Anyone who is different is considered abnormal in this society.
The point is that I'm not praising the film only because it is different, but because it is a great attempt at introducing the public to a different way of making a film, telling them that there are different ways a story can be told and that any creative work is what the perceptions and individual impressions it draws from its audience.
It definitely could be a path-breaking film, an example of new age cinema. Something that, years down the line, people might realise was a superior film- a movie well ahead of its time. Though the film has been panned by the critics and has got mixed reactions from the public, I hope that film finds its audience and gets its due in the days to come. Because you can love it or hate it but you cannot ignore it.
Yes, Anurag has critised others work, but in all fairness he has spoken freely of his opinion. He has praised Rang De Basanti as openly as he has criticised Ram Gopal Verma Ki Aag. The man is arrogant but you cannot dismiss his movies- because he is a genius- someone who thinks and makes others thinks. He is self-indulgent in places, and probably tries to prove a point or two about mainstream cinema but I hope he knows that he will have to change the system only by being a part of it.
Also, two people who deserve praise for being a part of this brave movie are producer Vishal Bharadwaj who is a classic director and lyricist filmself. And leading man John Abraham who has added to the film not only with his star value and hotness but also a memorable portrayal of a arrogant man who loses his soul.
In all, a valiant effort brilliantly executed.
Why can't a regular movie goer enjoy Dawid Dhawan's Partner in the same breath as the radical No Smoking? Like my friend said, probably because the audience is not ready to open themselves up to different techniques of cinema. Yes, I understand a large mumber of the audience did not understand the film because they are so used to straight narratives, concrete endings and all answers been given on a platter. But what about the so-called critics?
Have they learnt film appreciation, literary criticism, or even watched and studied World Cinema? I agree that everyone has their own views, but when personal bias, a close minded attitude and arrogance of being a critic creep into your review, I'm sorry that's the end of you as a critic. You CANNOT let your personal bias come in, when you are writing a review. You got to review the film for what it is, not what your opinion about a particular film maker is. Playing politics through your review is sly!
Anyway, I think Anurag has said enough about the reviews on Passionforcinema.com for me to go on and on abou it. Now the film- it is one experience each one of us should go through. The story is open to interpretation because Anurag has refrained from explaining the events. He leaves you to draw your own conclusions. When was the last time a film maker gave that kind of freedom to the member of the audience. Whether it's John waking up in Siberia, or coming out of the tub- what is reality and what is fantasy? The line is blur. Was it a dream? What could have the part about Ayesha Takia going missing mean? Was Paresh Rawal a doc or a con man? Who is on who's side? Think! That's what the film makes you do. It's challening, and you feel mentally stimulated as you witness the going ons.
The influences from graphic novels and the Chaplin-style flashback could have looked gimmicky, but Anurag carries them off with so much style that they end up impressing you. It's great to come out of a movie hall thinking about the movie you just watched. Yes, you come back with more questions than answers but it is one movie that will stay with you for a long long time to come.
Isn't it a fantastic experience to delve into the realms of the subconscious? To cross the boundaries between realism and fantasy? Who said that's not entertaining? Yes, the film is not perfect. But which one is? I know that being a completely out of the box film, it is subject to more harsh criticism than others. Who has been accepted instantly for being different? Anyone who is different is considered abnormal in this society.
The point is that I'm not praising the film only because it is different, but because it is a great attempt at introducing the public to a different way of making a film, telling them that there are different ways a story can be told and that any creative work is what the perceptions and individual impressions it draws from its audience.
It definitely could be a path-breaking film, an example of new age cinema. Something that, years down the line, people might realise was a superior film- a movie well ahead of its time. Though the film has been panned by the critics and has got mixed reactions from the public, I hope that film finds its audience and gets its due in the days to come. Because you can love it or hate it but you cannot ignore it.
Yes, Anurag has critised others work, but in all fairness he has spoken freely of his opinion. He has praised Rang De Basanti as openly as he has criticised Ram Gopal Verma Ki Aag. The man is arrogant but you cannot dismiss his movies- because he is a genius- someone who thinks and makes others thinks. He is self-indulgent in places, and probably tries to prove a point or two about mainstream cinema but I hope he knows that he will have to change the system only by being a part of it.
Also, two people who deserve praise for being a part of this brave movie are producer Vishal Bharadwaj who is a classic director and lyricist filmself. And leading man John Abraham who has added to the film not only with his star value and hotness but also a memorable portrayal of a arrogant man who loses his soul.
In all, a valiant effort brilliantly executed.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
A little fish called Riya
I made a new friend at the swimming sessions at the club yesterday- only that she called me aunty! Well, Riya is the youngest friend I've made. The first thing is wanted to do once we became friends was race. I knew I would loose since the 11-year-old had been swimming at the club for the last three years while I have just begun swimming after probably 3 years or more.
Anyway, I'm a sport. So I agreed to race. We had two races and obviously I lost both.
After that I asked her to be my coach and teach me how to do free style. She was a smart girl and a smart coach. She gave me some important lessons in swimming.
Here are some tips she gave:
Now look at that. Kids these days are really smart. They can put us adults to shame!
And apart from these tips. She told me her whole kahaani. About her school, her house, who has the best memory in her house and that her memory sucks, that she is Jain, an accident she had when she was really young, how she became fat when she was young, how she fell sick when she fell into the water at 2, what her mum scolds her for etc etc. One talkative little girl.
Anyway I'm looking forward to bumping into her at the pool this evening. I hope we do more swimming and less talking now.
Another cute thing she said- "I think I'm a fish. When I'm in the pool I can't spend too much time outside water!"
Anyway, I'm a sport. So I agreed to race. We had two races and obviously I lost both.
After that I asked her to be my coach and teach me how to do free style. She was a smart girl and a smart coach. She gave me some important lessons in swimming.
Here are some tips she gave:
- Don't cough or sneeze under water. It can be dangerous.
- When you swim sideways, you can breathe and then go down again while doing free style.
- If you learn free style, you can easily learn butterfly stroke.
- Do breathing exercises under water. It helps improve your stamina.
- Leave your body to the water. Just relax and swim, you'll feel better.
- That it wasn't important to win a race as tiny as the one at Wellingdon. It was more important to swim well and enjoy it!
Now look at that. Kids these days are really smart. They can put us adults to shame!
And apart from these tips. She told me her whole kahaani. About her school, her house, who has the best memory in her house and that her memory sucks, that she is Jain, an accident she had when she was really young, how she became fat when she was young, how she fell sick when she fell into the water at 2, what her mum scolds her for etc etc. One talkative little girl.
Anyway I'm looking forward to bumping into her at the pool this evening. I hope we do more swimming and less talking now.
Another cute thing she said- "I think I'm a fish. When I'm in the pool I can't spend too much time outside water!"
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Some structure's back
I don't remember the last time I had to wake up so early every day. I think not after school. I used always bunk my morning lectures at college because I didn't want to wake up early. Now, for the first time in my working experience I have to keep to reporting timings! I have to reach office at sharp 9.30 every day.
Frankly it isn't as tough as I thought it would be. After 3-4 days I started reaching on time. So my life has become more structured. I get the evening to do fruits and vegetable shopping, go swimming and watching movies. I am eating healthier since there are no places really to order in food around here. Also I can't take too many food breaks when I'm in office anyway. I'm also partying lesser since I have to wake up at 7.30 next morning. I don't know how long its going to last but I'm enjoying it while it lasts!
And then I get two days off on the weekend which is a blessing. I had never imagined that I'll have a five-day week though always hoped for it. I can go to Pune more often now and my parents are thrilled about it. After trying for years to pursuade me to go down to Pune more often, they have succeeded. Surprisingly, I'm not complaining too much. I'm enjoying the fact that I'm getting to spend more time with myself and with my family.
So we are people who don't really like an organised routine life. But somehow, now that my life has become more organised, I feel this is what I needed. I didn't want it but I needed it. It has come as a blessing in disguise.
News for the day: There surely is a surprise element in Jodhaa Akbar. Like cricket was a part of hidden plot in Lagaan, expect something else this time from director Ashutosh Gowarikar. Whether its as exciting as Lagaan's cricket factor was, is for all of us to find out. Let's wait and watch!
Frankly it isn't as tough as I thought it would be. After 3-4 days I started reaching on time. So my life has become more structured. I get the evening to do fruits and vegetable shopping, go swimming and watching movies. I am eating healthier since there are no places really to order in food around here. Also I can't take too many food breaks when I'm in office anyway. I'm also partying lesser since I have to wake up at 7.30 next morning. I don't know how long its going to last but I'm enjoying it while it lasts!
And then I get two days off on the weekend which is a blessing. I had never imagined that I'll have a five-day week though always hoped for it. I can go to Pune more often now and my parents are thrilled about it. After trying for years to pursuade me to go down to Pune more often, they have succeeded. Surprisingly, I'm not complaining too much. I'm enjoying the fact that I'm getting to spend more time with myself and with my family.
So we are people who don't really like an organised routine life. But somehow, now that my life has become more organised, I feel this is what I needed. I didn't want it but I needed it. It has come as a blessing in disguise.
News for the day: There surely is a surprise element in Jodhaa Akbar. Like cricket was a part of hidden plot in Lagaan, expect something else this time from director Ashutosh Gowarikar. Whether its as exciting as Lagaan's cricket factor was, is for all of us to find out. Let's wait and watch!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Moving on to B-Town
I haven't written anything for a long time now. I mean nothing apart from my stories at work. Life has completely changed since the day I quit DNA. And after a 12-day long break in Pune I feel like DNA was ages ago.
So now I eat, sleep and drink movies. Didn't I do that before? It's anybody's guess.
I'm learning the ropes of writing Bollywood gossip, juicy hot stories, celeb interviews and some other filmi kahaniyan. It reminds me of my Filmfare reading days (I still have loads of them stacked away in the cupboard my tiny old desk). Yes, Sowmya rightfully teases me saying that 'mere bachpan ka sapna poora ho gaya'. I don't remember if I ever dreamt of writing about movies and movie stars, but I do remember that I loved reading about them. (Yes, I was attracted by the glimmer and often dreamt of meeting the movie stars. And even contemplated becoming a journalist so that I could meet my favourite actors. Well, as you grow up, you get over it) Just like the rest in my family. They all love the movies. They couldn't be gladder that I'm interacting with film stars. Yes, you could say the kurkure dailogue here- "kya family hai!"
But I guess most families in India love the movies. Despite the fact that I have to write about movies day-in and day-out, I would admit that it's the reading about films and watching a film that excites me more than writing. But since reading and watching inspires me so much, I manage to write decently and enjoy that process as well.
Most of my friends though are really happy that I have changed gears since now they can bank on me to give them some new gossip every day. I get a low down on a lot of what is happening in tinsel town though from my mom. She always adds one or two things to my already vast knowledge of the who's doing what in the industry. After all she's now a film journalist's mother!
Anyway, I hope to now add a filmi touch to my blog. No..no...don't decide to stop reading my blog (not that too many ppl read it anyway!) . I will only add a filmi touch. Will obviously continue to write about whatever comes to my mind.
So news for the day: Aamir has written the last post on his blog last week. He will shut the blog for lack of time and bandwidth. Bad news for Aamir Khan lovers!
So now I eat, sleep and drink movies. Didn't I do that before? It's anybody's guess.
I'm learning the ropes of writing Bollywood gossip, juicy hot stories, celeb interviews and some other filmi kahaniyan. It reminds me of my Filmfare reading days (I still have loads of them stacked away in the cupboard my tiny old desk). Yes, Sowmya rightfully teases me saying that 'mere bachpan ka sapna poora ho gaya'. I don't remember if I ever dreamt of writing about movies and movie stars, but I do remember that I loved reading about them. (Yes, I was attracted by the glimmer and often dreamt of meeting the movie stars. And even contemplated becoming a journalist so that I could meet my favourite actors. Well, as you grow up, you get over it) Just like the rest in my family. They all love the movies. They couldn't be gladder that I'm interacting with film stars. Yes, you could say the kurkure dailogue here- "kya family hai!"
But I guess most families in India love the movies. Despite the fact that I have to write about movies day-in and day-out, I would admit that it's the reading about films and watching a film that excites me more than writing. But since reading and watching inspires me so much, I manage to write decently and enjoy that process as well.
Most of my friends though are really happy that I have changed gears since now they can bank on me to give them some new gossip every day. I get a low down on a lot of what is happening in tinsel town though from my mom. She always adds one or two things to my already vast knowledge of the who's doing what in the industry. After all she's now a film journalist's mother!
Anyway, I hope to now add a filmi touch to my blog. No..no...don't decide to stop reading my blog (not that too many ppl read it anyway!) . I will only add a filmi touch. Will obviously continue to write about whatever comes to my mind.
So news for the day: Aamir has written the last post on his blog last week. He will shut the blog for lack of time and bandwidth. Bad news for Aamir Khan lovers!
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Food War
I really can't get into the skin of non-vegetarian and experience the agonies of watching a wonderful apartment slip out of my hand because of my food preference (I'm veg!). But this has become so common in Mumbai that people have simply shut out their options or found their way around it. I spoke to some who for the love of the flat, faked to be vegetarians!
Notes from the diary of an under-cover non-vegetarian (living in a vegetarian society):
July 9
8.00 pm: I get separation pangs. It’s been 10 days and I haven’t cooked non-vegetarian food. I stay in Goregaon west but the fear of being caught red-handed makes me drive all the way to Goregaon east to pick up some good old sea-food.
9.00 pm: I want to eat prawns but I can’t. Prawns stink and the whole neighbourhood will know I’m non-vegetarian. So I settle for some crabs. They are a safer proposition.
9.15 pm: I also pick up a packet of incense sticks.
9.45pm: I put the crabs in a black bag. Put the black bag inside another bag and put that bag into another one. I enter my society, a little nervous, like I was committing some crime. But I tried to smile at my neighbours as I passed them. I said to one of them, “Just went vegetable shopping”, even when they hadn’t asked me a thing.
July 10
9.00 am: Before I begin to cook, I open my main door and light the bunch of incense sticks outside the door. My neighbours feel proud that I energise my house with these agarbattis. Obviously, I do it to mislead the folks who pass through the staircase.
10.30am: Phew! I’m done with the cooking but damn, I forgot to keep my big windows open. The smell can’t stay in the house! But it’s not too late to mend the damage. I quickly open the windows.
10.45 am: I’m just laying the table when the door bell rings. But I don’t need to panic. I have trained my maid not to open the door without first checking out through the key-hole. That key-hole is my saviour. She does just that and not to worry, it’s just a courier boy. I collect the package and begin to enjoy my meal.
11.15 am: Ok, there’s some left-over food. I can’t possibly throw that into the dustbin. The CIA agents in my society will smell it and catch hold of me. So I ask my maid to send the food across to my secret non-vegetarian friend in the society.
11.30 am: My super-intelligent maid takes the plate of food covered only with a thin tissue paper. In five minutes I get a call from my friend who yells at me. “We both would have been thrown out of the society if that piece of tissue paper had flown on its way to my home.” I swear never to send the food like that again. I take a spare tiffin from the cabinet and make it my new secret non-vegetarian tiffin.
12pm: A fish-seller passes from outside my gate. I’m almost about to yell to him asking him to deliver some fresh fish. Just then I realise, for him to walk into our society gates would be like crossing the Pakistan border.
July 11
7am: I hear some voices arguing from the ground floor. My next door neighbour had checked the bin and he found some egg shells. They were from the omlette I made last night. The garbage boy knew which house he had got that from but pretended he didn’t. Phew, I survived again.
8pm: We meet in the society hall for a senior citizens birthday. Women start talking about how people should not kill somebody for their food. I object saying it’s a personal choice. The women disagree and stick to their point. I secretly smile to myself. “Ladies, I have been fooling you for the past 10 years!”
Here's what the food politics has done to the people of the city, and made them think if the cosmopiltan Mumbai is just a myth?
Sudha Deshpande, Goregaon
Sudha Deshpande has to sneak in meat through her society gates each time she craves for some non-vegetarian food. She has been living the life of an under-cover non-vegetarian for the past 10 years. “I loved the society and the locality was good. The broker was a vegetarian himself and he refused to sell the flat to me because I was non-vegetarian. So I had to lie and get the apartment directly from the builder,” says Deshpande.
Deshpande is not the only one. Several non-vegetarians have gone through hell finding a flat in certain vegetarian dominated pockets and societies with unwritten rules on vegetarianism even when they had cash in their pockets. Food preference is one of the first things a broker will ask you and will not show you flats that fall into the strictly vegetarian category. “There are owners who have strict instructions not to get any vegetarian clients so I cut off non-vegetarian clients at my level,” says a broker who refuses to be named.
Amar Khamkar, Lalbaug
In 2003, Amar Khamkar, who lived in Parel put up a fight against a housing society which refused to sell a flat to him because he was a non-vegetarian Maharashtrian. “I had the money. I had been living in that area for donkey’s years. They would just lie to me saying the bookings were full or would quote a price three times higher than the original one, making it impossible for me to buy the flat,” he says.
Aditya Pandya, Kandivali
Aditya Pandya, who writes on real estate says that a personal experience while trying to sell his flat in a Kandivali society made him realise how divided the city is over food preference. “Jains and Gujaratis are a majority in the area in Yoginagar where I had my flat. There was a Jain temple attached to the building. When we decided to sell the flat we were sure that we would get a good premium because of the presence of the temple. But there was a non-vegetarian family living on the ground floor, and no one would buy the flat. Non-vegetarians refused to buy it since the majority living there were vegetarians and vegetarians wouldn’t buy it because there was a non-vegetarian living in the building.”
Pandya further explains that several clusters of buildings in Kandivali and many other areas of the city become vegetarian dominated over some time and then a boundary gets drawn automatically. “You cannot define that a particular area or suburb is a vegetarian zone but the number of these vegetarian clusters has definitely increased.”
Marwari Ekta Parishad defends
Food in the city can easily become a political issue, as illustrated by the growing phenomenon of organisations, societies and pockets of the city where vegetarians try to prevent meat from being eaten or sold. Recently the Marwari Ekta Parishad had protested against meat being sold at the new retail chain of the Aditya Birla group. “A Marwari family can’t support slaughter. Should commercial interests get ahead of our culture and tradition,” says Narendrabhai Parmar of Marwari Ekta Parishad.
There have been several instances in the past where majority vegetarian communities have turned food chains and outlets in their area of interest vegetarian. The entire stretch of Marine Drive caters only to herbivores now. Dominoes, Pizza Hut and many other small time restaurants too had to go veggie. Some shut down as they could not run a vegetarian place.
Cosmopolis: Two Tales of a City
The question is whether the vegetarianism has taken over public spaces from being a private choice of food? Paromita Vora’s film Cosmopolis: Two Tales of a City explores just that. It talks about the politics of food, and divisions over class, caste and food, and whether cosmopolitan Mumbai is a myth. “These unsaid differences based on food always existed. But the trouble begins when people begin to control public space. It also turns into land politics,” says Vora. “Like-minded people can definitely come together to build their own society based on their preferences, but by doing this they are being intolerant upon others. You need to be tolerant if you are living in a city like Mumbai. You can’t go around telling people how to run a business or how to mould public spaces.”
Notes from the diary of an under-cover non-vegetarian (living in a vegetarian society):
July 9
8.00 pm: I get separation pangs. It’s been 10 days and I haven’t cooked non-vegetarian food. I stay in Goregaon west but the fear of being caught red-handed makes me drive all the way to Goregaon east to pick up some good old sea-food.
9.00 pm: I want to eat prawns but I can’t. Prawns stink and the whole neighbourhood will know I’m non-vegetarian. So I settle for some crabs. They are a safer proposition.
9.15 pm: I also pick up a packet of incense sticks.
9.45pm: I put the crabs in a black bag. Put the black bag inside another bag and put that bag into another one. I enter my society, a little nervous, like I was committing some crime. But I tried to smile at my neighbours as I passed them. I said to one of them, “Just went vegetable shopping”, even when they hadn’t asked me a thing.
July 10
9.00 am: Before I begin to cook, I open my main door and light the bunch of incense sticks outside the door. My neighbours feel proud that I energise my house with these agarbattis. Obviously, I do it to mislead the folks who pass through the staircase.
10.30am: Phew! I’m done with the cooking but damn, I forgot to keep my big windows open. The smell can’t stay in the house! But it’s not too late to mend the damage. I quickly open the windows.
10.45 am: I’m just laying the table when the door bell rings. But I don’t need to panic. I have trained my maid not to open the door without first checking out through the key-hole. That key-hole is my saviour. She does just that and not to worry, it’s just a courier boy. I collect the package and begin to enjoy my meal.
11.15 am: Ok, there’s some left-over food. I can’t possibly throw that into the dustbin. The CIA agents in my society will smell it and catch hold of me. So I ask my maid to send the food across to my secret non-vegetarian friend in the society.
11.30 am: My super-intelligent maid takes the plate of food covered only with a thin tissue paper. In five minutes I get a call from my friend who yells at me. “We both would have been thrown out of the society if that piece of tissue paper had flown on its way to my home.” I swear never to send the food like that again. I take a spare tiffin from the cabinet and make it my new secret non-vegetarian tiffin.
12pm: A fish-seller passes from outside my gate. I’m almost about to yell to him asking him to deliver some fresh fish. Just then I realise, for him to walk into our society gates would be like crossing the Pakistan border.
July 11
7am: I hear some voices arguing from the ground floor. My next door neighbour had checked the bin and he found some egg shells. They were from the omlette I made last night. The garbage boy knew which house he had got that from but pretended he didn’t. Phew, I survived again.
8pm: We meet in the society hall for a senior citizens birthday. Women start talking about how people should not kill somebody for their food. I object saying it’s a personal choice. The women disagree and stick to their point. I secretly smile to myself. “Ladies, I have been fooling you for the past 10 years!”
Here's what the food politics has done to the people of the city, and made them think if the cosmopiltan Mumbai is just a myth?
Sudha Deshpande, Goregaon
Sudha Deshpande has to sneak in meat through her society gates each time she craves for some non-vegetarian food. She has been living the life of an under-cover non-vegetarian for the past 10 years. “I loved the society and the locality was good. The broker was a vegetarian himself and he refused to sell the flat to me because I was non-vegetarian. So I had to lie and get the apartment directly from the builder,” says Deshpande.
Deshpande is not the only one. Several non-vegetarians have gone through hell finding a flat in certain vegetarian dominated pockets and societies with unwritten rules on vegetarianism even when they had cash in their pockets. Food preference is one of the first things a broker will ask you and will not show you flats that fall into the strictly vegetarian category. “There are owners who have strict instructions not to get any vegetarian clients so I cut off non-vegetarian clients at my level,” says a broker who refuses to be named.
Amar Khamkar, Lalbaug
In 2003, Amar Khamkar, who lived in Parel put up a fight against a housing society which refused to sell a flat to him because he was a non-vegetarian Maharashtrian. “I had the money. I had been living in that area for donkey’s years. They would just lie to me saying the bookings were full or would quote a price three times higher than the original one, making it impossible for me to buy the flat,” he says.
Aditya Pandya, Kandivali
Aditya Pandya, who writes on real estate says that a personal experience while trying to sell his flat in a Kandivali society made him realise how divided the city is over food preference. “Jains and Gujaratis are a majority in the area in Yoginagar where I had my flat. There was a Jain temple attached to the building. When we decided to sell the flat we were sure that we would get a good premium because of the presence of the temple. But there was a non-vegetarian family living on the ground floor, and no one would buy the flat. Non-vegetarians refused to buy it since the majority living there were vegetarians and vegetarians wouldn’t buy it because there was a non-vegetarian living in the building.”
Pandya further explains that several clusters of buildings in Kandivali and many other areas of the city become vegetarian dominated over some time and then a boundary gets drawn automatically. “You cannot define that a particular area or suburb is a vegetarian zone but the number of these vegetarian clusters has definitely increased.”
Marwari Ekta Parishad defends
Food in the city can easily become a political issue, as illustrated by the growing phenomenon of organisations, societies and pockets of the city where vegetarians try to prevent meat from being eaten or sold. Recently the Marwari Ekta Parishad had protested against meat being sold at the new retail chain of the Aditya Birla group. “A Marwari family can’t support slaughter. Should commercial interests get ahead of our culture and tradition,” says Narendrabhai Parmar of Marwari Ekta Parishad.
There have been several instances in the past where majority vegetarian communities have turned food chains and outlets in their area of interest vegetarian. The entire stretch of Marine Drive caters only to herbivores now. Dominoes, Pizza Hut and many other small time restaurants too had to go veggie. Some shut down as they could not run a vegetarian place.
Cosmopolis: Two Tales of a City
The question is whether the vegetarianism has taken over public spaces from being a private choice of food? Paromita Vora’s film Cosmopolis: Two Tales of a City explores just that. It talks about the politics of food, and divisions over class, caste and food, and whether cosmopolitan Mumbai is a myth. “These unsaid differences based on food always existed. But the trouble begins when people begin to control public space. It also turns into land politics,” says Vora. “Like-minded people can definitely come together to build their own society based on their preferences, but by doing this they are being intolerant upon others. You need to be tolerant if you are living in a city like Mumbai. You can’t go around telling people how to run a business or how to mould public spaces.”
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Box
The quaint little dark wooden box had been lying in her closet for years. It had begun to smell like the bark of an old tree preparing for a dry winter, still damp from the spell of the first rains. But Shivani often took it out, wiped it with a clean cloth and placed it amidst her pile of clothes. After her mother’s death, Shivani had sorted out all her belongings. She gave away everything except for her wedding sari, and the little box.
Her mom spoke fondly about how her father, a small time mechanic back then, had gifted this sari from his first salary. And when they eloped and got married, she had nothing else to wear but this brown sari with golden zari work. It was a small Brahmin wedding, conducted in a temple on the outskirts of Pune. They began their wedded life in a friend’s house and her father did odd mechanical jobs to keep the kitchen fires burning.
Her mother often spoke about how the sari was a symbol of the courage that her father’s love had given her. Her father had soon managed to build his own garage. And after Shivani was born, they shifted into a small one-bedroom apartment. Money came but in small spurts. When Shivani had to go to school, her father sold his Bajaj scooter to provide for her fees. But by the time Shivani was 6 years old, he had managed to own a car show room, and slowly but surely the show rooms multiplied in number, making life easier.
Shivani thought of the days when she watched her mother count the money her father gave her. But her most vivid memory of her mother was of her hiding away the wooden box in one of the cabinets atop the ledge, above the cupboard in her bedroom. Shivani often wondered what her mother put in that box. She wondered if the box contains the money that she often counted. But Shivani never got to see what was in it. Somehow her mom always managed to put her things in it when Shivani was away or sleeping. She kept it locked and Shivani could never find the key. Even after her mother’s death, Shivani searched every possible place in the house but the key wasn’t there.
She did not want to break it open. She thought that it would not to be fair to break open this beautiful box of secrets. Then she decided not to open it at all. She was scared that she would find something very disturbing in it. She also thought that her mother never wanted anyone to see what’s in it, so it would not be the right thing to do. She knew that her father never got to see what’s in it either. He died when Shivani was 16. His was a silent death much like her mother’s. Both of them died in their sleep. Her father was asleep when his car crashed into a truck on the Pune-Nasik Highway. And her mother, at the age 37, never woke up after a lovely dinner with Shivani at home.
She smiled whenever she thought about the fact that her parents didn’t have to suffer to death. Now, 24-years-old, Shivani lived alone, worked with a corporate house as a public relations officer.
Tonight, she stared at the beautiful patterns on the box. There were curved lines around the edge and flowers at the centre. There was a golden line running around the end of the lid. It was rectangular in shape and had a tiny little brass lock hanging from it. She suddenly began to feel the urge to burst it open. “I want to know what secrets it holds within,” she thought to herself. Shivani was disturbed. Siddharth had refused to go against his parents. He didn’t have the courage to fight for their relationship. She hadn’t slept the whole night and ended up not going to work in the morning. Her eyes were swollen and her throat was dry. The five-year-old fairy tale was over. She felt like she had come crashing down to the ground after she tried to fly with broken wings. Today she needed to open this box. She felt that all her questions will be answered once this box is opened.
She brought a knife from the kitchen, and prepared to go for it. Then stopped again, took a deep breath and slowly began to dig into the lock. She struggled for five minutes before the lock split open. “Will I find my answers in this box? Does this box contain a secret that I need to know at this point in life?” she thought in the fleeting second before she slowly raised the lid.
And her eyes gleamed in the low light of her bedroom as she glared at what was inside this little wooden box. Her tensed look was replaced by a grin as a mirror shone back at her from inside. And she saw herself more clearly than ever before.
Sometimes the darkest secrets are the simple truths of life.
Her mom spoke fondly about how her father, a small time mechanic back then, had gifted this sari from his first salary. And when they eloped and got married, she had nothing else to wear but this brown sari with golden zari work. It was a small Brahmin wedding, conducted in a temple on the outskirts of Pune. They began their wedded life in a friend’s house and her father did odd mechanical jobs to keep the kitchen fires burning.
Her mother often spoke about how the sari was a symbol of the courage that her father’s love had given her. Her father had soon managed to build his own garage. And after Shivani was born, they shifted into a small one-bedroom apartment. Money came but in small spurts. When Shivani had to go to school, her father sold his Bajaj scooter to provide for her fees. But by the time Shivani was 6 years old, he had managed to own a car show room, and slowly but surely the show rooms multiplied in number, making life easier.
Shivani thought of the days when she watched her mother count the money her father gave her. But her most vivid memory of her mother was of her hiding away the wooden box in one of the cabinets atop the ledge, above the cupboard in her bedroom. Shivani often wondered what her mother put in that box. She wondered if the box contains the money that she often counted. But Shivani never got to see what was in it. Somehow her mom always managed to put her things in it when Shivani was away or sleeping. She kept it locked and Shivani could never find the key. Even after her mother’s death, Shivani searched every possible place in the house but the key wasn’t there.
She did not want to break it open. She thought that it would not to be fair to break open this beautiful box of secrets. Then she decided not to open it at all. She was scared that she would find something very disturbing in it. She also thought that her mother never wanted anyone to see what’s in it, so it would not be the right thing to do. She knew that her father never got to see what’s in it either. He died when Shivani was 16. His was a silent death much like her mother’s. Both of them died in their sleep. Her father was asleep when his car crashed into a truck on the Pune-Nasik Highway. And her mother, at the age 37, never woke up after a lovely dinner with Shivani at home.
She smiled whenever she thought about the fact that her parents didn’t have to suffer to death. Now, 24-years-old, Shivani lived alone, worked with a corporate house as a public relations officer.
Tonight, she stared at the beautiful patterns on the box. There were curved lines around the edge and flowers at the centre. There was a golden line running around the end of the lid. It was rectangular in shape and had a tiny little brass lock hanging from it. She suddenly began to feel the urge to burst it open. “I want to know what secrets it holds within,” she thought to herself. Shivani was disturbed. Siddharth had refused to go against his parents. He didn’t have the courage to fight for their relationship. She hadn’t slept the whole night and ended up not going to work in the morning. Her eyes were swollen and her throat was dry. The five-year-old fairy tale was over. She felt like she had come crashing down to the ground after she tried to fly with broken wings. Today she needed to open this box. She felt that all her questions will be answered once this box is opened.
She brought a knife from the kitchen, and prepared to go for it. Then stopped again, took a deep breath and slowly began to dig into the lock. She struggled for five minutes before the lock split open. “Will I find my answers in this box? Does this box contain a secret that I need to know at this point in life?” she thought in the fleeting second before she slowly raised the lid.
And her eyes gleamed in the low light of her bedroom as she glared at what was inside this little wooden box. Her tensed look was replaced by a grin as a mirror shone back at her from inside. And she saw herself more clearly than ever before.
Sometimes the darkest secrets are the simple truths of life.
Age of Innocence
"What are Mp3 players?" she asks. "Don't mind but I'm pretty ignorant about all this things. I want it to gift it to my mother."
I wasn't surprised that she didn't know. She was over 50 years of age and her mother over 80.
I explained how Mp3 players work. Then came questions about how you can put music on the player, on Mp3 speakers, difference between Ipods and Mp3 players etc etc. Then more followed- computers, WorldSpace and so on. I answered them all.
The development in technology leaves the seniors more helpless than you can ever imagine. Instead of making their life easy, it becomes difficult. It is easier for them to operate their old landline phones, cassette players and refrigerators but makes it difficult to even switch on and switch off CD players, microwave ovens, ipods, laptops and things which have become so common in today's homes. I'm sure they feel like they are reborn into a different time suddenly, or have been transported into a new space. Kids operate gadgets more easily than most. They are born into a gadgetty environment unlike the seniors in today's time.
Anyway, the point is that there is a strange innocence that some people possess. They are not afraid to ask questions. They don't care or even give a thought to the fact that people might make fun of them. These people usually find out about life's realities the hard away, yet that does not discourage them. Derineh, my office colleague fits the description. She is growing old, but her experience hasn't made her cynical. She still has dreams, wants to learn things and asks innocent questions. You feel good about life when you see people like her. You feel everything is not lost and that the age of innocence can never pass.
I wasn't surprised that she didn't know. She was over 50 years of age and her mother over 80.
I explained how Mp3 players work. Then came questions about how you can put music on the player, on Mp3 speakers, difference between Ipods and Mp3 players etc etc. Then more followed- computers, WorldSpace and so on. I answered them all.
The development in technology leaves the seniors more helpless than you can ever imagine. Instead of making their life easy, it becomes difficult. It is easier for them to operate their old landline phones, cassette players and refrigerators but makes it difficult to even switch on and switch off CD players, microwave ovens, ipods, laptops and things which have become so common in today's homes. I'm sure they feel like they are reborn into a different time suddenly, or have been transported into a new space. Kids operate gadgets more easily than most. They are born into a gadgetty environment unlike the seniors in today's time.
Anyway, the point is that there is a strange innocence that some people possess. They are not afraid to ask questions. They don't care or even give a thought to the fact that people might make fun of them. These people usually find out about life's realities the hard away, yet that does not discourage them. Derineh, my office colleague fits the description. She is growing old, but her experience hasn't made her cynical. She still has dreams, wants to learn things and asks innocent questions. You feel good about life when you see people like her. You feel everything is not lost and that the age of innocence can never pass.
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