Headed to Goa with no plan in mind
except to get away from the daily grind,
smsed K for advice on places to visit -
for Goa, K equals the ‘Lonely Planet’.
Anjuna beach first :
‘Curlie’s’ for chill-out, snacky food and breakfast,
‘Orange Bloom’ for breakfast more;
‘Infantaria’ on Baga-Calangute road for desserts galore
- you will love it
(quite prophetic,
loved their mixed fruit pancake
and the chocolate cheesecake).
Moving on to Baga beach :
‘Britto’s’ and ‘St. Anthony’s’,
‘O Cocero’ – where Charles Sobhraj was caught, you know,
(Ah, to soak in some local glamour before we go.)
For traditional Goan food
(spicy, non-veg and good);
‘Inferno’ for dinner at Candolim
‘Viva Panjim’ in – where else – Panjim !
In South Goa, ‘Martin’s’ for lunch,
And Varca beach has shacks in a bunch.
Now if it’s food for the soul you seek -
No, magic mushroom is not what I mean ( ! )
Its music I’m referring to;
For Jazz and Blues -
‘Stonehouse’ at Candolim –
(We found it awesome
And went there twice)
And Calanguate has ‘Take 5’;
For dancing, ‘Cavala’ at Baga is good, though
best Thursday nights, or ‘Mambo’;
‘Titos’ is over-rated.
Oh, and find out about ‘Sunburn’ it’s in Candolim.
- Adapted from K's sms by Zen
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Girl and Boy
There was once was a boy
Who needed a toy
So he got himself a girl
But the girl was a witch
With a hypnotic twitch
And she made the Boy plain twirl
So he twirled and he twirled
Till his life was in a whirl
And couldn't tell his west from his east
But the girl was a beast
And she didn't care in the least
As she saw her toy boy unfurl
By,
Anonymous
Who needed a toy
So he got himself a girl
But the girl was a witch
With a hypnotic twitch
And she made the Boy plain twirl
So he twirled and he twirled
Till his life was in a whirl
And couldn't tell his west from his east
But the girl was a beast
And she didn't care in the least
As she saw her toy boy unfurl
By,
Anonymous
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Rockstar - Reflections, not a review
Chances are as you walk out of the theatre you may want to go sit in a quiet place.
As you think of the movie later, you will find several flaws in the script – but when watching it you sort of overlook it because this is Imitiaz’s best; amongst Rehman’s finest, (special mention for Irshad Kamil’s lyrics) and Ranbir, well, he is magic. He makes you burst out laughing, takes you along on his spiritual sojourn, encompasses you in the warmth of his hug (a brilliant touch), puts you in a trance when he’s on the dance floor and finally makes you feel his tragic helplessness…. And leaves you with the nagging question: why is it that only when the quantity of life is limited, that we gain awareness and courage to add quality to it?
Imtiaz Ali has a recurring theme in all his movies –unacknowledged love followed by separation, and then realization and a difficult unity…Rockstar has been the best so far, he has acting talent of a different league, he has some great dialogues, some heart wrenching moments …clever cinematographic technique– especially in the rock concert shots.
This movie is more about love and its accompaniments than the recipients of love …Maybe that’s why you can forgive the fact that the characters are sketchy especially the female character. Nargis has limited acting ability and a mouth that is more distracting than attractive. Shammi Kapoor is fabulous and is the only other actor who deserves mention. The movie has its heart in the right place and music that moves you like you had forgotten music could.
Warning: Savor the movie – it’s like eating a gourmet dish – let the flavors roll onto your tongue, let the taste travel to your brain (or will that be heart?) and relish it. You can feel the taste much after the meal is over. If you’re a fast food lover it may seem like much ado about nothing, slow and painful.
By,
Soma.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Emotions : Part 3 – Contentment
Sitting on top of a hill in the monsoon season, lush green below, blue-grey sky above. Looking at rain escaping the clouds and rushing down towards the earth, inhaling lungfuls of the fresh wet earth smell.
By,
Zen
By,
Zen
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Emotions : Part 2 – Despair
Same road, a hospital at the end of it. Observed just outside the hospital’s gate :
A young guy – 15-20 years old. Thin, not too tall. A face that started out being a rectangle, when the jaw bones suddenly dissented and decided to be sharp and angular instead. Mop of curly hair. Dressed shabbily – frayed jeans, faded top.
In the grip of some strong emotion which has been tightly reined in and suppressed – the effort is visible from the way he has clenched his jaw tight and from the muscles flickering in his cheek and temple.
He has a matchbox in one hand. He takes out one match at a time, strikes it against the matchbox, intently watches the flame flare and burn down, and tosses the match away just before it would have started to burn his fingers. Does not actually move his shoulder in the throwing gesture, just bends his arm at the elbow. Continues to do this with several matchsticks, does not look up from the matchbox and matchstick, as if it’s important to concentrate on every minute detail of this repetitive task. This simple task must be done to perfection. Each time.
Kchrikkkkk – flare – hold – stare
The only thing holding his sanity together.
By,
Zenobia Driver
A young guy – 15-20 years old. Thin, not too tall. A face that started out being a rectangle, when the jaw bones suddenly dissented and decided to be sharp and angular instead. Mop of curly hair. Dressed shabbily – frayed jeans, faded top.
In the grip of some strong emotion which has been tightly reined in and suppressed – the effort is visible from the way he has clenched his jaw tight and from the muscles flickering in his cheek and temple.
He has a matchbox in one hand. He takes out one match at a time, strikes it against the matchbox, intently watches the flame flare and burn down, and tosses the match away just before it would have started to burn his fingers. Does not actually move his shoulder in the throwing gesture, just bends his arm at the elbow. Continues to do this with several matchsticks, does not look up from the matchbox and matchstick, as if it’s important to concentrate on every minute detail of this repetitive task. This simple task must be done to perfection. Each time.
Kchrikkkkk – flare – hold – stare
The only thing holding his sanity together.
By,
Zenobia Driver
Saturday, August 06, 2011
Emotions : Happiness ! or Optimism.
A broad road fringed with tall trees, the pavement littered with branches that the BMC has chopped off prior to the monsoon. Some of the trees have creepers with big pink flowers growing on them, these give out a characteristic strong fragrance that defines this stretch of road during the flowering season. At a certain time every morning, the fragrance is obscured by the stink from the garbage collecting truck, it has an open top and dirty green maws from which streams of garbage hang and sway like so much spittle as it comes trundling down the road.
On most days, the garbage collecting men perch inside the truck’s cabin or on top of the body, in faded uniforms, shoulders slumped, faces downcast, hating their work and their fate. But today is different.
One of the garbage collectors is a young man, tall, dark and hefty, round-faced, with curly hair. His attire hints at his attitude - he wears a dark brown shirt with a mustard print, the first few buttons open – ishtyle hai bhai ! Around his neck he has a locket on a black string, from his hip pocket hangs a dark blue scarf.
This young man chooses to ride the garbage truck with attitude, like he’s at a rodeo, or shooting stunts for a film. He jumps on to the side of the truck as it starts off, and hangs there whistling a happy tune, chest thrown out, head flung back casually, scarf fluttering gaily in the wind, as if he has not a care in the world.
The tale we read in school was true – Aadmi khushi khoj lega ! (A man will find happiness)
On most days, the garbage collecting men perch inside the truck’s cabin or on top of the body, in faded uniforms, shoulders slumped, faces downcast, hating their work and their fate. But today is different.
One of the garbage collectors is a young man, tall, dark and hefty, round-faced, with curly hair. His attire hints at his attitude - he wears a dark brown shirt with a mustard print, the first few buttons open – ishtyle hai bhai ! Around his neck he has a locket on a black string, from his hip pocket hangs a dark blue scarf.
This young man chooses to ride the garbage truck with attitude, like he’s at a rodeo, or shooting stunts for a film. He jumps on to the side of the truck as it starts off, and hangs there whistling a happy tune, chest thrown out, head flung back casually, scarf fluttering gaily in the wind, as if he has not a care in the world.
The tale we read in school was true – Aadmi khushi khoj lega ! (A man will find happiness)
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sounds familiar ?
One of my objectives while planning a vacation in Dehradun was to visit Mussourie, be at the Cambridge bookshop on Saturday evening when Mr. Ruskin Bond is reported to visit, and get one of my books autographed by him. Unfortunately, we ended up being in Mussourie on Friday, and even though we optimistically trotted off to the Cambridge bookshop, Mr. Bond wasn’t there. Shaken, but not stirred, we bought a Ruskin Bond book each at the shop, I picked up one titled ‘Rain in the Mountains’.
A passage from this is reproduced below, it reminded me of one of my bird-watching friends, she must be related to Sir E in some way.
Someone asked Sir E if he could shoot a bird on his land at Ramgarh. The man wanted the bird for dissection in a biology lab. Sir E refused.
“It’s in the interests of science,” protested the man. “Do you think a bird is better than a human ?”
“Infinitely,” said Sir E. “Infinitely better.”
Does the sentiment sound familiar to you too ? :-)
By,
Zenobia Driver
A passage from this is reproduced below, it reminded me of one of my bird-watching friends, she must be related to Sir E in some way.
Someone asked Sir E if he could shoot a bird on his land at Ramgarh. The man wanted the bird for dissection in a biology lab. Sir E refused.
“It’s in the interests of science,” protested the man. “Do you think a bird is better than a human ?”
“Infinitely,” said Sir E. “Infinitely better.”
Does the sentiment sound familiar to you too ? :-)
By,
Zenobia Driver
Thursday, July 28, 2011
About the Mountains
An extract from ‘Snow Leopard’ by Peter Matthiessen :
The secret of the mountains is that the mountains simply exist, as I do myself : the mountains exist simply, which I do not. The mountains have no “meaning”, they are “meaning”; the mountains are. The sun is round. I ring with life, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. I understand all this, not in my mind but in my heart, knowing how meaningless it is to try to capture what cannot be expressed, knowing that mere words will remain when I read it all again, another day.
The secret of the mountains is that the mountains simply exist, as I do myself : the mountains exist simply, which I do not. The mountains have no “meaning”, they are “meaning”; the mountains are. The sun is round. I ring with life, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. I understand all this, not in my mind but in my heart, knowing how meaningless it is to try to capture what cannot be expressed, knowing that mere words will remain when I read it all again, another day.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
The best part of armchair discussions
A holiday at ‘Ivy Cottage’ on the outskirts of Dehradun; a quaint cottage with a beautiful garden full of flowering plants and trees, surrounded by hills, clouds scudding above.
Picture a group of five people with broad grins basking in pleasant sunshine - we are sitting around a breakfast table laden with empty plates and used cutlery, replete after a mammoth breakfast of eggs, sausages, toast, butter, jam, juice, fruit, gobi parathas and french fries. If you have sharp eyes or a strong imagination, you can see a shimmer of lazy contentment hovering around us and slowly expanding.
What do we select as an apt topic for conversation, sprawled out in our chairs, rendered nearly immobile by the amount of food we have gobbled – we discuss true stories of incredible hardship and adventure. ‘Into Thin Air’ by Jon Krakauer’ and ‘The Climb’ by Anatoly Boukreev – both accounts of an expedition to Mount Everest that ended in disaster; ‘Touching the void’ by Joe Simpson – another soul-stirring story of an expedition to the peak Siula Grande in the Peruvian Andes, and how Simpson survived in spite of numerous injuries; ‘Endurance : Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage’ by Alfred Lansing – about a trans-Antartic expedition by sea in which the ship sank, but the entire crew survived in hostile conditions for almost two years before finally journeying to safety.
At some point in our discussion, a few expressions turned sheepish and some of us lost a degree of animation as the contrast between our current condition and the stories we were discussing sank in. But then, as M pointed out, to admire something one doesn’t have to be experiencing it, neither to have experienced it oneself in the past. In fact, one’s admiration of those facing adverse circumstances is enhanced with the distance from the same.
Think of eating samosas at a nice cosy place, say Samovar (Jehangir Art Gallery, Mumbai), while reading one of these books; biting into the crispy part at the end and hearing it crackle just as you read about the crackle of ice on the Khumbu icefall (after Base Camp, Everest); imagining the cold at Everest’s feet while safely savouring the heat and crackle of a crisp samosa – the best of both worlds, wot ?
(Links to info about the books here :
Into Thin Air
The Climb
Touching the Void
Endurance : Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage )
By,
Zenobia Driver
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Yoga, but not Yogi
I started yoga almost two years ago. A teacher would come home twice a week for an hour-long lesson. And that was the beginning of my journey. I started with hatha yoga – which is basically using one’s body and doing simple exercises or asanas. My teacher though, was catering to the modern power yoga students that Mumbai is brimming with, rather than focusing on traditional asanas. “Power yoga helps lose weight you know”. I was not in particularly good physical shape, exercise for me had been an evening walk couple of times a week, so she had me tired. She had a predilection for repetitions and insisted on counting – so I was programmed to do 8 counts of this, 16 counts of that, and I would be huffing and puffing away. Simply put, I was a lazy lump of lard.
Yes, having the teacher forced me to do my classes as she would show up at home at the preset times. But, my teacher was an illustrious Gujarati businesswoman as well, running businesses from India and abroad and this kept her away at points of time from taking my classes. I too, had some travelling to do or at times running late at work (yes one class day was an evening class on a weekday!) and this kept us away at times from each other and our biweekly classes.
Working within these constraints, the guru-shisya team did make some progress and I proudly reported to those who cared to listen that I had succeeded to do the Utthita Padmasana. A posture that involves sitting in Padmasana, and then elevating yourself off the floor with the support of your two palms. It made me feel surreal, as though I had transcended into another world, I had crossed some standard of yogic practice.
My teacher – I told you she was into power, pop stuff- asked me to moon walk one morning. Moon walk – why, I asked myself, that’s what MJ made famous and me no aspiring MJ. I soon realized it was a simple knee and ankle bending exercise, nothing as glamorous as it sounded. And so the classes carried on and I crossed some new milestones like learning the Surya Namaskar in the midst of other frantic ‘post modern yoga’ (term patented by me) practice.
Then, at some point a few months ago, I discovered the Yoga Studio whilst browsing the Sunday Midday. Set in chimbai village in bandra, I went to take the one odd class there, hoping to discover something more. The studio is hip – wooden floors, healthy salads served in kansha bowls and the ambience nice to lounge around. The teachers are ‘very bandra’ – wearing harem pants and with well-chiseled model like bodies. What I learned in these one off classes – was how to add grace to the yoga asana. “Like dance, enjoy the pose, move your arm with grace almost like you are performing, though for yourself…and listen to what your body says. If it feels like doing something today, do it, if not perhaps it will oblige you another day.” Grace and enjoying the beauty of the pose – was the aha I got from this yoga class.
To my delight, pretty soon I figured I was actually beyond basic in yoga – so apart from being ‘bandra- priced’, these classes weren’t stretching me enough either. It could also do with the fact, that now I was doing yoga a little more seriously than before.
A month later, inspired, I gate crashed into the Iyengar Yoga institute, the mecca of yoga. I had been trying to get admission here for more than two years. Every time I went I was made greeted by an elderly semi-toothless man who asked me to record my contact details in a book, (much like those we used in school) that ran into pages – with names of wait listed students. Finally, mind made up that I had to join; I arrived during the evening class hours, with yoga clothes packed into my jhola and requested to speak to the teacher.
She was considerate and flattered too I think, that I had been visiting the place for 2 years now, and allowed me to join the class from that very evening.
I was looking for advanced, boy, I got advanced. Or super advanced. Iyengar yoga as a philosophy is hatha yoga but with the aid of props, teaching one how to hold a pose to perfection. ’Hold’ and ‘perfection’ being the key operative words. So the teacher screams instructions like – “expand your shoulders, open up your thoracic area, put your arms by the rib cage, turn your buttocks in and your pelvic region outward to face the ceiling” … and as you try following one instruction, the earlier one inevitably slips and you try to balance it all furiously recalling your bio classes from school, only to hear her thundering “ and why are YOU,YOU,holding your breath, continue to breathe normally…” Give me a break I want to say, but I am so immersed in holding in my buttock and out my pelvic region, that speaking is totally out of question.
And when I think the worst is over, and it is time for Savasana – ah, the relaxation posture where you lie on your back and relax all your muscles; she bellows “ all of you, now hold the two ropes and walk up the wall and then invert yourselves into sheerasana…” and at this point I am sitting with my mouth open (it is my third class so I am excused from this attempt), as 30 adults hold the ropes and really start walking up the wall only to invert themselves and stay like that for close to ten minutes. Wow!
It will take me this lifetime to inch toward becoming a yogini, but as you can see, it has been an interesting journey thus far, from moon walking not quite MJ style, sprinkled with the grace of dancing, to walking up the walls super hero style…
As for you, next time you’re headed to PVR, ditch the superhero flick, hop over to the Iyengar class instead and watch the real superheroes in action; and who knows, you may start the journey of a superhero yogi yourself!
By,
Soma Ghosh
Yes, having the teacher forced me to do my classes as she would show up at home at the preset times. But, my teacher was an illustrious Gujarati businesswoman as well, running businesses from India and abroad and this kept her away at points of time from taking my classes. I too, had some travelling to do or at times running late at work (yes one class day was an evening class on a weekday!) and this kept us away at times from each other and our biweekly classes.
Working within these constraints, the guru-shisya team did make some progress and I proudly reported to those who cared to listen that I had succeeded to do the Utthita Padmasana. A posture that involves sitting in Padmasana, and then elevating yourself off the floor with the support of your two palms. It made me feel surreal, as though I had transcended into another world, I had crossed some standard of yogic practice.
My teacher – I told you she was into power, pop stuff- asked me to moon walk one morning. Moon walk – why, I asked myself, that’s what MJ made famous and me no aspiring MJ. I soon realized it was a simple knee and ankle bending exercise, nothing as glamorous as it sounded. And so the classes carried on and I crossed some new milestones like learning the Surya Namaskar in the midst of other frantic ‘post modern yoga’ (term patented by me) practice.
Then, at some point a few months ago, I discovered the Yoga Studio whilst browsing the Sunday Midday. Set in chimbai village in bandra, I went to take the one odd class there, hoping to discover something more. The studio is hip – wooden floors, healthy salads served in kansha bowls and the ambience nice to lounge around. The teachers are ‘very bandra’ – wearing harem pants and with well-chiseled model like bodies. What I learned in these one off classes – was how to add grace to the yoga asana. “Like dance, enjoy the pose, move your arm with grace almost like you are performing, though for yourself…and listen to what your body says. If it feels like doing something today, do it, if not perhaps it will oblige you another day.” Grace and enjoying the beauty of the pose – was the aha I got from this yoga class.
To my delight, pretty soon I figured I was actually beyond basic in yoga – so apart from being ‘bandra- priced’, these classes weren’t stretching me enough either. It could also do with the fact, that now I was doing yoga a little more seriously than before.
A month later, inspired, I gate crashed into the Iyengar Yoga institute, the mecca of yoga. I had been trying to get admission here for more than two years. Every time I went I was made greeted by an elderly semi-toothless man who asked me to record my contact details in a book, (much like those we used in school) that ran into pages – with names of wait listed students. Finally, mind made up that I had to join; I arrived during the evening class hours, with yoga clothes packed into my jhola and requested to speak to the teacher.
She was considerate and flattered too I think, that I had been visiting the place for 2 years now, and allowed me to join the class from that very evening.
I was looking for advanced, boy, I got advanced. Or super advanced. Iyengar yoga as a philosophy is hatha yoga but with the aid of props, teaching one how to hold a pose to perfection. ’Hold’ and ‘perfection’ being the key operative words. So the teacher screams instructions like – “expand your shoulders, open up your thoracic area, put your arms by the rib cage, turn your buttocks in and your pelvic region outward to face the ceiling” … and as you try following one instruction, the earlier one inevitably slips and you try to balance it all furiously recalling your bio classes from school, only to hear her thundering “ and why are YOU,YOU,holding your breath, continue to breathe normally…” Give me a break I want to say, but I am so immersed in holding in my buttock and out my pelvic region, that speaking is totally out of question.
And when I think the worst is over, and it is time for Savasana – ah, the relaxation posture where you lie on your back and relax all your muscles; she bellows “ all of you, now hold the two ropes and walk up the wall and then invert yourselves into sheerasana…” and at this point I am sitting with my mouth open (it is my third class so I am excused from this attempt), as 30 adults hold the ropes and really start walking up the wall only to invert themselves and stay like that for close to ten minutes. Wow!
It will take me this lifetime to inch toward becoming a yogini, but as you can see, it has been an interesting journey thus far, from moon walking not quite MJ style, sprinkled with the grace of dancing, to walking up the walls super hero style…
As for you, next time you’re headed to PVR, ditch the superhero flick, hop over to the Iyengar class instead and watch the real superheroes in action; and who knows, you may start the journey of a superhero yogi yourself!
By,
Soma Ghosh
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Book Review - Palace of Illusions
Author Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.
Same old Mahabharata, refreshing new perspective.
Story told from the enigmatic Draupadi’s perspective. Gripping, read it from cover to cover and then some parts again, especially the last chapter. Have read this author before and didn’t like her all that much, therefore was pleasantly surprised.
Will share some facets of her character that are not commonly known
• The author deals with the relationships that defined her – that with her father, brother and Dhai ma in her childhood, mother in law, five husbands and with Karna in her adult life, the latter for whom she harbored a secret attraction from when she saw him first.
• Draupadi was perhaps never a little girl even when she was one– always strong willed, longing to see the world, sitting in on her brother’s lessons on war to understand what life out there was about.
• We know the incidents that led to the great war – from her bastra haran in Duryodhan’s court where none of her husbands protected her to the twelve year banbash and the supposed fight for the Pandavas rights. What the author dwells upon is her mental anguish at the war Kurukshetra especially since she felt it was her pride, arrogance and desire for revenge that caused war, widowing many and leaving many helpless.
• We also know that the blind Dhritarashtra could see vicariously through his charioteer what was happening at war. But we don’t know that Draupadi had been granted the same vision too and she saw all the misdeeds committed on the battlefield by her husbands including the killing of Karna .
• Nor did we know that she was a not great mother, choosing a life of adventure with her husbands in banbash over being at home with the womenfolk to bring up her children.
• And it depicts her relationship with Krishna, the constant strength in her life. Her playmate as a child, her confidante when she needed one and her protector when she was being humiliated.. Her consort in her darkest of hours standing by her in her when everyone else failed her. Spouting wisdom when she needed it like – “a situation was only as bad as you thought it to be”.. Yet he teased her, never revealed his divinity to her and gave her convoluted answers when she asked probing questions about her predicament.
Why this book is worth a read –the writing is racy, a page-turner. It unravels Draupadi as a real woman – attractive, ambitious, independent minded, strong willed and real limitations like stubbornness and an ego that supposedly led to her downfall. As a woman she fought hard to play the game by her rules, to do what the men in her life did, yet she never quite got equal status.
I was left startled how ancient yet modern the story of Draupadi is. You feel like you know her.
By,
Soma
Same old Mahabharata, refreshing new perspective.
Story told from the enigmatic Draupadi’s perspective. Gripping, read it from cover to cover and then some parts again, especially the last chapter. Have read this author before and didn’t like her all that much, therefore was pleasantly surprised.
Will share some facets of her character that are not commonly known
• The author deals with the relationships that defined her – that with her father, brother and Dhai ma in her childhood, mother in law, five husbands and with Karna in her adult life, the latter for whom she harbored a secret attraction from when she saw him first.
• Draupadi was perhaps never a little girl even when she was one– always strong willed, longing to see the world, sitting in on her brother’s lessons on war to understand what life out there was about.
• We know the incidents that led to the great war – from her bastra haran in Duryodhan’s court where none of her husbands protected her to the twelve year banbash and the supposed fight for the Pandavas rights. What the author dwells upon is her mental anguish at the war Kurukshetra especially since she felt it was her pride, arrogance and desire for revenge that caused war, widowing many and leaving many helpless.
• We also know that the blind Dhritarashtra could see vicariously through his charioteer what was happening at war. But we don’t know that Draupadi had been granted the same vision too and she saw all the misdeeds committed on the battlefield by her husbands including the killing of Karna .
• Nor did we know that she was a not great mother, choosing a life of adventure with her husbands in banbash over being at home with the womenfolk to bring up her children.
• And it depicts her relationship with Krishna, the constant strength in her life. Her playmate as a child, her confidante when she needed one and her protector when she was being humiliated.. Her consort in her darkest of hours standing by her in her when everyone else failed her. Spouting wisdom when she needed it like – “a situation was only as bad as you thought it to be”.. Yet he teased her, never revealed his divinity to her and gave her convoluted answers when she asked probing questions about her predicament.
Why this book is worth a read –the writing is racy, a page-turner. It unravels Draupadi as a real woman – attractive, ambitious, independent minded, strong willed and real limitations like stubbornness and an ego that supposedly led to her downfall. As a woman she fought hard to play the game by her rules, to do what the men in her life did, yet she never quite got equal status.
I was left startled how ancient yet modern the story of Draupadi is. You feel like you know her.
By,
Soma
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
First Rains
I was sitting at marine drive before sunset one evening in early June and starting listening in to a dad- daughter conversation amongst the all the other banter of hawkers, lovers and Gujju families.
The young lady it seemed, worked in Mumbai, and now that her dad had come to visit, she was proudly showing off Mumbai; drawing a contrast to Kolkata (her hometown), whenever she could. Her dad glancing nervously at the dark sky kept proclaiming that it was time to leave. Young lady kept negotiating with dad saying few minutes longer would do no harm.
It was the evening Mumbai would get its first rains.
Amidst the chatter, I sat dangling my feet, allowing the blackening sky and cool breeze from the darkening water to envelop me. Ah a pleasant change from the concrete skyline coming to consume you. Dad finally called the shots, “it’s getting dark my dear, we must go now”..with that our young lady reluctantly gives in. With them, I get up too… thankful for my short tryst with nature marine drive ishtyle. Minutes later, the rains come swooping down.
Mumbai is a ruthless city, but can be tender too. In the monsoon, you can let your scattered thoughts go – the sea absorbs them unto itself, giving you a relief, albeit a temporary one.
By,
Soma
The young lady it seemed, worked in Mumbai, and now that her dad had come to visit, she was proudly showing off Mumbai; drawing a contrast to Kolkata (her hometown), whenever she could. Her dad glancing nervously at the dark sky kept proclaiming that it was time to leave. Young lady kept negotiating with dad saying few minutes longer would do no harm.
It was the evening Mumbai would get its first rains.
Amidst the chatter, I sat dangling my feet, allowing the blackening sky and cool breeze from the darkening water to envelop me. Ah a pleasant change from the concrete skyline coming to consume you. Dad finally called the shots, “it’s getting dark my dear, we must go now”..with that our young lady reluctantly gives in. With them, I get up too… thankful for my short tryst with nature marine drive ishtyle. Minutes later, the rains come swooping down.
Mumbai is a ruthless city, but can be tender too. In the monsoon, you can let your scattered thoughts go – the sea absorbs them unto itself, giving you a relief, albeit a temporary one.
By,
Soma
Friday, June 24, 2011
Movie review - Anurag Kashyap’s 'shaitan'
This movie was about the youth of today. Stuff I don’t much care about, having safely passed the age perhaps has something to do with it. It reminded me of youth reality programs that show up annoyingly on music channels.
'Shaitan' had a strong realism to it, a story woven around a gang of friends stuck in a difficult situation they get themselves into, and how they deal with it.
I liked the techniques used – attached-to-protagonist camera shots like that we have seen before in Kashyap’s DevD; high speed camera shots increasing the drama manifold; the manner in which the conversation is shot when two people meet for the first time at a party sitting on a swing; the beautiful Khoya Khoya Chand song playing in the background in the most gruesome scenes; well done.
Frightening was the reality of how childhood traumas shape who you really are and somehow never let you go, however hard you run from them. Frightening also, how immaterial human life has become today, a life where nothing matters, much except saving your skin, covering your ass. Violence, murder, stealing, rape nothing counts for anything, all is cool. The only ethic the youth in 'Shaitan' follow is to stick to a friendship code they set... at least try to.
The performances were quite competent, all known faces, from tv, theatre or earlier offbeat movies. Ok for a dekho, I asked myself did I need to go to the movies to see this? Maybe I did, to show me that the worst was not over, yet…
By,
Anonymous
'Shaitan' had a strong realism to it, a story woven around a gang of friends stuck in a difficult situation they get themselves into, and how they deal with it.
I liked the techniques used – attached-to-protagonist camera shots like that we have seen before in Kashyap’s DevD; high speed camera shots increasing the drama manifold; the manner in which the conversation is shot when two people meet for the first time at a party sitting on a swing; the beautiful Khoya Khoya Chand song playing in the background in the most gruesome scenes; well done.
Frightening was the reality of how childhood traumas shape who you really are and somehow never let you go, however hard you run from them. Frightening also, how immaterial human life has become today, a life where nothing matters, much except saving your skin, covering your ass. Violence, murder, stealing, rape nothing counts for anything, all is cool. The only ethic the youth in 'Shaitan' follow is to stick to a friendship code they set... at least try to.
The performances were quite competent, all known faces, from tv, theatre or earlier offbeat movies. Ok for a dekho, I asked myself did I need to go to the movies to see this? Maybe I did, to show me that the worst was not over, yet…
By,
Anonymous
Monday, May 30, 2011
Waiting for the Rains
(an old post by Suchi that is apt to read today)
It is 42 C. That is about 108 F. Dry heat. The kind that attacks your skin and sucks out every little bit of moisture from the depth of your bones. People go back and forth in their preference for the kind of heat – - dry or humid. Madras and Bombay, the temperature is in the late 30s, but humidity so high that breathing is difficult. Stringing one’s thoughts together, in either kind of heat, is a challenge.
Summers are a reminder: Of the frailty of the body. Of dependence on electricity and water. Of the longing for the rains. Even the word ‘monsoon’ has such a lovely feeling to it. It rolls off the tongue, with the languorous ‘soon’ at its end, a whispered promise. The bringer of life to farmers; their fortunes dependant on the vagrancies of winds and clouds. But it is also the city-dweller who eagerly checks the sky for changes, waiting day after day for the unrelenting heat to be washed out.
6.30am in a doctor’s waiting room. “It is pouring in Hyderabad.” “And Bangalore is cold – - remember what cold is?” Such is the conversation these days. Somebody remarks about photographs in the local newspaper of the rains in the Andaman and Nicobar islands. “How do you know those photos are of this year? Could be old photos. Media playing with our minds to prevent water riots” says a critical lady. Just then clouds cover the sun, and a calm is restored.
There is a deep sense of anticipation. A collective holding of breath. Close examination of the clouds. Soon, soon, the monsoons will be here. No wonder so much music and poetry was written for this Indian season.
By,
Suchitra Shenoy
(read more posts by Suchi here)
It is 42 C. That is about 108 F. Dry heat. The kind that attacks your skin and sucks out every little bit of moisture from the depth of your bones. People go back and forth in their preference for the kind of heat – - dry or humid. Madras and Bombay, the temperature is in the late 30s, but humidity so high that breathing is difficult. Stringing one’s thoughts together, in either kind of heat, is a challenge.
Summers are a reminder: Of the frailty of the body. Of dependence on electricity and water. Of the longing for the rains. Even the word ‘monsoon’ has such a lovely feeling to it. It rolls off the tongue, with the languorous ‘soon’ at its end, a whispered promise. The bringer of life to farmers; their fortunes dependant on the vagrancies of winds and clouds. But it is also the city-dweller who eagerly checks the sky for changes, waiting day after day for the unrelenting heat to be washed out.
6.30am in a doctor’s waiting room. “It is pouring in Hyderabad.” “And Bangalore is cold – - remember what cold is?” Such is the conversation these days. Somebody remarks about photographs in the local newspaper of the rains in the Andaman and Nicobar islands. “How do you know those photos are of this year? Could be old photos. Media playing with our minds to prevent water riots” says a critical lady. Just then clouds cover the sun, and a calm is restored.
There is a deep sense of anticipation. A collective holding of breath. Close examination of the clouds. Soon, soon, the monsoons will be here. No wonder so much music and poetry was written for this Indian season.
By,
Suchitra Shenoy
(read more posts by Suchi here)
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Birder Bladder and other tidbits
Being one of those that have a few birding – fanatic friends, I am able to relate how this species is physiologically and attitudinally different from the regular couch potato homo sapiens. Note : the following changes have been observed only in fanatic birders, not in the armchair or amateur variety.
1. Birder bladder : XXL size, can continue for long intervals of time without needing to use the amenities
2. Birder vision (a) : can visit forests, deserts, mangroves, rivers etc and notice only the birds, nothing else. Not a beautiful sunrise or sunset, not a picturesque boat-ride through the backwaters, only the birds.
Birders can even venture enthusiastically into grassy areas where bunches of men are going for their morning job, and unabashedly focus binocs and cameras wherever a bird flutters. I was on one such trip recently, and while I was a bit embarrassed, neither the birders not the men were; the presence of a bunch of women did not even deter a guy who was in the middle of an open field !
Birder vision (b) : Crop everything out of photos except the bird - leaves, flowers, trees, all extraneous.
3. Lifer over Life :
(Lifer : A first-ever sighting of a bird species by an observer – courtesy Wikipedia)
Only one idea at birding time – have camera, will click. Even when it goes against basic survival instincts !
While on a bird-watching walk inside a sanctuary in East India, we saw a tribe of wild elephants grazing not far from us. Our guide requested us to walk in single-file in absolute silence; the forest guards were visibly frightened, one of them tried to load his antique gun but could not, adding to our fear. So there we were, walking quietly, not even taking deep breaths; when the trigger-happy camera-club could take it no more and nonchalantly focused their weapons and…..Whirrrr clickkk clickety-click whirrrrr. And continued even as one massive elephant swiveled his head, fixed his beady eyes on us and started moving forward !!
4. Aversion to bright colours – only black, grey, brown and dull green allowed while bird-watching. Large part of my time preparing for each birding trip is spent in finding clothes of the aforementioned colours in my wardrobe; my argument that birds sit on trees with bright flowers and therefore will be attracted to bright colours falls on deaf ears.
5. Birder G.K. – whether the Grimett is better than the Salim Ali and why
6. Birder GK useful to non-birders - Hanging out with birders helps you win in games like name-place-animal-thing. Who else would think of a ‘zitting cisticola’, 'yuhina', ‘temminck's tragopan’ etc ?
By,
Zen
1. Birder bladder : XXL size, can continue for long intervals of time without needing to use the amenities
2. Birder vision (a) : can visit forests, deserts, mangroves, rivers etc and notice only the birds, nothing else. Not a beautiful sunrise or sunset, not a picturesque boat-ride through the backwaters, only the birds.
Birders can even venture enthusiastically into grassy areas where bunches of men are going for their morning job, and unabashedly focus binocs and cameras wherever a bird flutters. I was on one such trip recently, and while I was a bit embarrassed, neither the birders not the men were; the presence of a bunch of women did not even deter a guy who was in the middle of an open field !
Birder vision (b) : Crop everything out of photos except the bird - leaves, flowers, trees, all extraneous.
3. Lifer over Life :
(Lifer : A first-ever sighting of a bird species by an observer – courtesy Wikipedia)
Only one idea at birding time – have camera, will click. Even when it goes against basic survival instincts !
While on a bird-watching walk inside a sanctuary in East India, we saw a tribe of wild elephants grazing not far from us. Our guide requested us to walk in single-file in absolute silence; the forest guards were visibly frightened, one of them tried to load his antique gun but could not, adding to our fear. So there we were, walking quietly, not even taking deep breaths; when the trigger-happy camera-club could take it no more and nonchalantly focused their weapons and…..Whirrrr clickkk clickety-click whirrrrr. And continued even as one massive elephant swiveled his head, fixed his beady eyes on us and started moving forward !!
4. Aversion to bright colours – only black, grey, brown and dull green allowed while bird-watching. Large part of my time preparing for each birding trip is spent in finding clothes of the aforementioned colours in my wardrobe; my argument that birds sit on trees with bright flowers and therefore will be attracted to bright colours falls on deaf ears.
5. Birder G.K. – whether the Grimett is better than the Salim Ali and why
6. Birder GK useful to non-birders - Hanging out with birders helps you win in games like name-place-animal-thing. Who else would think of a ‘zitting cisticola’, 'yuhina', ‘temminck's tragopan’ etc ?
By,
Zen
Friday, February 25, 2011
Wildlife Ahoy
Who says you have to go to a nature reserve for an encounter with interesting wildlife? Sitting right here, in a city of about 4 million people, we have encountered the following:
1) Some months back, a family of mongoose, who would trot across the top edge of the gate, in decreasing order of size. As though aware of what a show they put on, they didn’t look sideways at their audience, or down at the ground. “Just passing through”, they seemed to say.
2) A cat gave birth to her kittens on our living room chair (I wrote about that experience earlier). They have moved out, but every once in awhile, the cat returns, almost as though to check that we are behaving as we should be
3) Three to four different kinds of birds hop onto the window sill of our dining room every day and complain vociferously if an over-ripe banana has not been placed for their royal consumption
And today, reporting live, I bring you two eye witness reports:
4) A one-inch frog (it is the monsoon after all) that hopped its way across the bathroom floor. Reaching the bathroom door, it had nowhere to go. Pausing to consider his next move, he spotted a thin crack between the door and the wall. Not worrying about size and fit, he turned around, pushed his butt in, and slowly eased himself into the crack. Since then, there have been no sightings. Stay posted though, we might have breaking news, any moment now…
5) A small cute looking mouse: She leapt off the shoe-rack this morning and vanished by diving into some old newspapers under the staircase. ‘Ah well’ we thought. It turns out, however, that this mouse has a good sense of theatrics. Having received shrieks (of what she probably took as appreciation), she has taken to repeating her feat – - crouching unseen on the shoe-rack and leaping off when an innocent human is trying to reach for their chappals.
So the next time you want to spend big bucks on a safari, save your cash… just come and stay with us instead.
By,
Suchitra Shenoy
(read more by Suchitra at http://dosomethingbeautifulthebook.wordpress.com
1) Some months back, a family of mongoose, who would trot across the top edge of the gate, in decreasing order of size. As though aware of what a show they put on, they didn’t look sideways at their audience, or down at the ground. “Just passing through”, they seemed to say.
2) A cat gave birth to her kittens on our living room chair (I wrote about that experience earlier). They have moved out, but every once in awhile, the cat returns, almost as though to check that we are behaving as we should be
3) Three to four different kinds of birds hop onto the window sill of our dining room every day and complain vociferously if an over-ripe banana has not been placed for their royal consumption
And today, reporting live, I bring you two eye witness reports:
4) A one-inch frog (it is the monsoon after all) that hopped its way across the bathroom floor. Reaching the bathroom door, it had nowhere to go. Pausing to consider his next move, he spotted a thin crack between the door and the wall. Not worrying about size and fit, he turned around, pushed his butt in, and slowly eased himself into the crack. Since then, there have been no sightings. Stay posted though, we might have breaking news, any moment now…
5) A small cute looking mouse: She leapt off the shoe-rack this morning and vanished by diving into some old newspapers under the staircase. ‘Ah well’ we thought. It turns out, however, that this mouse has a good sense of theatrics. Having received shrieks (of what she probably took as appreciation), she has taken to repeating her feat – - crouching unseen on the shoe-rack and leaping off when an innocent human is trying to reach for their chappals.
So the next time you want to spend big bucks on a safari, save your cash… just come and stay with us instead.
By,
Suchitra Shenoy
(read more by Suchitra at http://dosomethingbeautifulthebook.wordpress.com
Sunday, February 20, 2011
This and That
This week’s post consists of interesting things I read / saw / heard and wanted to share. Am just adding brief notes to pique your curiosity so that you click on the links given. So, without further ado:
1. A part of this article by Neelesh Mishra in the Mint Lounge yesterday. The article is about Vishal Bharadwaj and his journey to success makes for interesting reading anyway, but the anecdote reproduced below really grabbed my attention.
‘You could say that where Bhardwaj is today is the result of a journey he began hesitantly with a script in his hands, pitching it to Shabana Azmi a few weeks after the 11 September terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in 2001, asking the veteran actor to play the role of a witch. Azmi’s response wasn’t quite on expected lines. “Why are you doing this to yourself? If this film fails, then your career as a music director is also dead,” Bhardwaj quotes Azmi as having said at the meeting that became a turning point in his career.
If he was thrown off balance, it didn’t show.
Bhardwaj asked Azmi to imagine a man on the 90th floor of one of the towers of the World Trade Center, who has just come in to work and has switched on his laptop. He sits back and begins sipping a cup of coffee when, outside the window, he sees an aeroplane coming right at him. “Poof! It’s all over in the next second! We don’t know what’s going to happen in the next minute. We have to live our dreams as much as we can.”
Azmi agreed to act in his debut film Makdee.’
Dream On !
2. This article titled ‘Thank God for Politics’ by Shekhar Gupta in the Indian Express yesterday defended Dr. Manmohan Singh and his recent press conference. Being a big fan of the good Dr., I had to include it in this post. I really liked the way Shekhar Gupta defended Dr. Singh’s speaking style :
‘His style is like that of a professor caught in the complex detail of a problem rather than that of an expansive Atal Bihari Vajpayee. And his method and moods? I have often said that even at the best of times Dr Singh seems to come across as Rahul Dravid batting at 39 for 3. He is not given to flourishes of any kind whatsoever………………
can you deny that Dr Manmohan Singh is honest, capable, well-intentioned, wise and, most importantly, re-electable? So what if you do not exactly find him to be a rock star in front of the camera. That was never promised to you in the first place. But one thing you can be sure of. Whatever his countenance and style, like the dour but indispensable cricketer we compared him with, he is at his best at 39 for 3, which is how the scoreline looks for UPA 2 right now. You can trust him when he says he isn’t going anywhere midway through this innings, and you can also be sure his party will now cut all the clutter and confusion and work with him rather than at cross-purposes.’
3. As some of you may have figured, am a big fan of weekend newspaper reading. And I recently found out that the Hindu is now available on the same day in Mumbai. So now Sunday morning newspaper sessions can be spun out longer with the Hindu too. (Surprising that the paper has such stiff and turgid prose on a weekday but is thoroughly readable on Sundays.)
4. Watched Raell Padamsee’s production of the evergreen ‘Sound of Music’ at NCPA yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Delna Mody as Maria ably held the play together; Marianne D Cruz Aiman as Mother Superior was sensational in the song ‘Climb Every Mountain’; Dalip Tahil as Captain Von Trapp was a total surprise – he looked dapper and handsome and quite unlike the villain of so many Bollywood films of the 80s and 90s, and he sang really well too. Where have these people been hiding and why don’t we have more musicals being staged in Mumbai ?
Suggest you give this play a dekko if you liked watching the movie as a child, or if you have a young child at home.
p.s.I couldn’t find any clips from Raell Padamsee’s version of this production, but just for kicks, here’s a video of an unusual performance of Do-Re-Mi, for a commercial by Belgian brand VTM in 2009.
By,
Zen
1. A part of this article by Neelesh Mishra in the Mint Lounge yesterday. The article is about Vishal Bharadwaj and his journey to success makes for interesting reading anyway, but the anecdote reproduced below really grabbed my attention.
‘You could say that where Bhardwaj is today is the result of a journey he began hesitantly with a script in his hands, pitching it to Shabana Azmi a few weeks after the 11 September terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center in 2001, asking the veteran actor to play the role of a witch. Azmi’s response wasn’t quite on expected lines. “Why are you doing this to yourself? If this film fails, then your career as a music director is also dead,” Bhardwaj quotes Azmi as having said at the meeting that became a turning point in his career.
If he was thrown off balance, it didn’t show.
Bhardwaj asked Azmi to imagine a man on the 90th floor of one of the towers of the World Trade Center, who has just come in to work and has switched on his laptop. He sits back and begins sipping a cup of coffee when, outside the window, he sees an aeroplane coming right at him. “Poof! It’s all over in the next second! We don’t know what’s going to happen in the next minute. We have to live our dreams as much as we can.”
Azmi agreed to act in his debut film Makdee.’
Dream On !
2. This article titled ‘Thank God for Politics’ by Shekhar Gupta in the Indian Express yesterday defended Dr. Manmohan Singh and his recent press conference. Being a big fan of the good Dr., I had to include it in this post. I really liked the way Shekhar Gupta defended Dr. Singh’s speaking style :
‘His style is like that of a professor caught in the complex detail of a problem rather than that of an expansive Atal Bihari Vajpayee. And his method and moods? I have often said that even at the best of times Dr Singh seems to come across as Rahul Dravid batting at 39 for 3. He is not given to flourishes of any kind whatsoever………………
can you deny that Dr Manmohan Singh is honest, capable, well-intentioned, wise and, most importantly, re-electable? So what if you do not exactly find him to be a rock star in front of the camera. That was never promised to you in the first place. But one thing you can be sure of. Whatever his countenance and style, like the dour but indispensable cricketer we compared him with, he is at his best at 39 for 3, which is how the scoreline looks for UPA 2 right now. You can trust him when he says he isn’t going anywhere midway through this innings, and you can also be sure his party will now cut all the clutter and confusion and work with him rather than at cross-purposes.’
3. As some of you may have figured, am a big fan of weekend newspaper reading. And I recently found out that the Hindu is now available on the same day in Mumbai. So now Sunday morning newspaper sessions can be spun out longer with the Hindu too. (Surprising that the paper has such stiff and turgid prose on a weekday but is thoroughly readable on Sundays.)
4. Watched Raell Padamsee’s production of the evergreen ‘Sound of Music’ at NCPA yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed it.
Delna Mody as Maria ably held the play together; Marianne D Cruz Aiman as Mother Superior was sensational in the song ‘Climb Every Mountain’; Dalip Tahil as Captain Von Trapp was a total surprise – he looked dapper and handsome and quite unlike the villain of so many Bollywood films of the 80s and 90s, and he sang really well too. Where have these people been hiding and why don’t we have more musicals being staged in Mumbai ?
Suggest you give this play a dekko if you liked watching the movie as a child, or if you have a young child at home.
p.s.I couldn’t find any clips from Raell Padamsee’s version of this production, but just for kicks, here’s a video of an unusual performance of Do-Re-Mi, for a commercial by Belgian brand VTM in 2009.
By,
Zen
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Review of 'Dhobi Ghat'
If you are an immigrant to the city and have lived in Mumbai for a while, it may bring back many memories of places visited in your early days in the city when you were enthusiastically trying to discover and lap up everything Mumbai. Watching this movie will make you want to go back and revisit some of the places again and go to those that you may have not been to as yet, to rekindle your love story with Mumbai (perhaps with camera in tow). The essence of this movie is aptly captured by Arun (played by Aamir) when he raises a toast to Mumbai calling it his muse, his whore and his beloved.
I thought some key aspects of the character of Mumbai were missed, but I suppose it can be overlooked as the director’s license, focusing on parts that make her complex tale more vivid. Apart from this, there were some inconsistencies in the characters; the relationship between the wealthy investment banker on sabbatical and the dhobi that seemed incredulous in parts (but that was the foundation of the script) and finally, the last fifteen minutes that could have been more sharply edited. Put these few flaws aside, and you have a fine directorial debut.
I liked very much the sensibility with which Kiran told her story; the gentle pace of taking the tale forward – not jarring, loud and in your face (you never felt rushed though it was a 90 minute film) and the rawness with which parts of old Mumbai were shown, including a fabulous scene during Ramzan at Mohammed Ali Road. The cinematography by Tushar Kanti Ray was superb, and theme music by Gustavo Santaolalla was haunting, (Kiran has always been a music lover, pity the album is not available for sale), and the characters pretty well etched and enacted.
About the characters; Munna (played by the talented Prateik) was well nuanced as the young dhobi with dreams of joining Bollywood. His character had a unique mix of awkwardness and ambition, evident in his interactions with Shai (Monica Dogra). As for Shai, she looked reasonably hot and befriended her dhobi with a nonchalance that honestly made me uncomfortable.
Shai’s love interest Arun, was the reclusive painter with a charming smile, spoke precious little and had an excruciatingly shy nature. Angst ridden Arun had to keep shifting house when his lease lapsed, and in one such apartment, he chanced upon some video diaries left behind by the earlier tenant that proceeded in a surprisingly real way to give renewed meaning to his life of solitude. The tapes contained diary-like narratives of a young Muslim bride Yasmin (Kriti Malhotra) that she meant to send to her brother back in U.P, as she discovered the city and her newly wed husband. Arun found happiness in this companionship and some nice moments followed as he started defining himself in relation to her, with an intimacy that he shuns from the other women in his life.
The story telling goes back and forth - covering the four characters and a silent old lady who is Arun’s neighbour (metaphor for Mumbai? ), and suddenly you find you are deeply involved with the multiple relationships woven within the backdrop of the city you love and despair at, simultaneously…
Regarding the cast- this movie converted me to an Aamir (as Arun) fan, met rather high expectations I had of Prateik, thought Monica Dogra was competent enough, but the greatest kudos must go to Kriti Malhotra in her portrayal of Yasmin. She used her eyes, smile and voice to express her story with a rare innocence and touching authenticity that stays with you after you have walked out of the theatre.
Kiran’s movie shows some of the clichés of life in Mumbai (disparity in wealth and living conditions, how both women are in search for enduring love, though their societal positions are so different) though not in a clichéd way. At the end, it is about the greatest cliché of all – dreams.
Dreams that people have in this city, few that get realized, many that don’t; and those seemingly futile ones, that one can’t stop pursuing because those maybe all that one has defined their life by.
By,
Soma.
I thought some key aspects of the character of Mumbai were missed, but I suppose it can be overlooked as the director’s license, focusing on parts that make her complex tale more vivid. Apart from this, there were some inconsistencies in the characters; the relationship between the wealthy investment banker on sabbatical and the dhobi that seemed incredulous in parts (but that was the foundation of the script) and finally, the last fifteen minutes that could have been more sharply edited. Put these few flaws aside, and you have a fine directorial debut.
I liked very much the sensibility with which Kiran told her story; the gentle pace of taking the tale forward – not jarring, loud and in your face (you never felt rushed though it was a 90 minute film) and the rawness with which parts of old Mumbai were shown, including a fabulous scene during Ramzan at Mohammed Ali Road. The cinematography by Tushar Kanti Ray was superb, and theme music by Gustavo Santaolalla was haunting, (Kiran has always been a music lover, pity the album is not available for sale), and the characters pretty well etched and enacted.
About the characters; Munna (played by the talented Prateik) was well nuanced as the young dhobi with dreams of joining Bollywood. His character had a unique mix of awkwardness and ambition, evident in his interactions with Shai (Monica Dogra). As for Shai, she looked reasonably hot and befriended her dhobi with a nonchalance that honestly made me uncomfortable.
Shai’s love interest Arun, was the reclusive painter with a charming smile, spoke precious little and had an excruciatingly shy nature. Angst ridden Arun had to keep shifting house when his lease lapsed, and in one such apartment, he chanced upon some video diaries left behind by the earlier tenant that proceeded in a surprisingly real way to give renewed meaning to his life of solitude. The tapes contained diary-like narratives of a young Muslim bride Yasmin (Kriti Malhotra) that she meant to send to her brother back in U.P, as she discovered the city and her newly wed husband. Arun found happiness in this companionship and some nice moments followed as he started defining himself in relation to her, with an intimacy that he shuns from the other women in his life.
The story telling goes back and forth - covering the four characters and a silent old lady who is Arun’s neighbour (metaphor for Mumbai? ), and suddenly you find you are deeply involved with the multiple relationships woven within the backdrop of the city you love and despair at, simultaneously…
Regarding the cast- this movie converted me to an Aamir (as Arun) fan, met rather high expectations I had of Prateik, thought Monica Dogra was competent enough, but the greatest kudos must go to Kriti Malhotra in her portrayal of Yasmin. She used her eyes, smile and voice to express her story with a rare innocence and touching authenticity that stays with you after you have walked out of the theatre.
Kiran’s movie shows some of the clichés of life in Mumbai (disparity in wealth and living conditions, how both women are in search for enduring love, though their societal positions are so different) though not in a clichéd way. At the end, it is about the greatest cliché of all – dreams.
Dreams that people have in this city, few that get realized, many that don’t; and those seemingly futile ones, that one can’t stop pursuing because those maybe all that one has defined their life by.
By,
Soma.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Mindful Musical musings of 2010
I had a slow start to 2010 and I used the time to make a number of resolutions – conscientiously as I do every year. Like many, I seldom keep any beyond the first weeks, but I kept one resolution in 2010, that was to enjoy my music again.
From when I can remember, I have loved listening to music…it has been my companion from my school days and then in college and thereafter. In fact when I was an obnoxious teenager I would listen to music on my walkman turning up the volume so high that I could block out what was happening outside. Music had been my peace, my escape, my love.
In the last few years, in the busi-ness of life, I had forgotten the glorious happiness that music used to give to me. It took me a number of years and a few life interventions to realize what this lost companionship had cost me.
Don’t get me wrong, it is not that during the last few years I have not been listening to music…of course I have, there are some favorites that I heard from time to time, I listened mindlessly to radio countdowns and of course the latest hindi music albums that caught my fancy either through the count downs or through flipping channels on tv. It’s just that I had stopped being mindful in listening to music.
2010 was different, hence I want to share my top music musings for the year (has nothing to do with releases in 2010), many that I will carry through with me into 2011 and perhaps longer. There were many that I had to cut down to keep to the top few but this was also the fun of writing this list – so many that I had to sacrifice when they were jostling for a top ten slot.
1. ‘Forever Young’ by Bob Dylan
Reassuring
I am surprised it took me so long to really discover Dylan and Forever Young. It is a strong contender for my song of the year. It was my chicken soup for the soul song for 2010 – listening to Dylan’s raspy voice singing (saying) “May your hands always be busy, may your feet always be swift….May you have a strong foundation, when the winds of change shift” never fails to give some old fashioned inspiration….And poetry this, “may your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung, and may you stay forever young”…
On searching I found a book devoted to an illustrated version of this song…a perfect gift for young impressionable minds. As for me, am planning to get my hands on the Dylan documentary now to understand better the person behind the song.
2. ‘Here we go again’ by Ray Charles and Norah Jones
Unwind
What an unusual combination of folk in a duet, ‘genius loves company’ indeed. Bluesy, slow and meant for an evening when you want to switch off the lights, switch the lamp on and have a glass of cabernet for company.
3.‘Uff teri ada’ from Karthik calling Karthik.
Joi de verve
“jogi nach le...rang rach de…lehra ke balkha ke tu duniya bhulake naach”
Javed Akhtar wrote pretty lyrics for this song and Shankar Ehsaan n Loy lent stunning music. I wanted to turn up the volume and dance all night. The on screen visualization of this song also added to the feeling … My highly perceptive driver turned up the volume when this song played on radio and that’s when I realized I had been spending too much time in the company of my driver!
4 & 5, Undiscovered genres – ghazal and Hindustani vocal.
I pride myself on being someone with clear likes and dislikes and the two things in music that I was sure I didn’t like were ghazals and Hindustani vocal music.
I read somewhere that circumstances just reveal yourself to you…and my revelation was that I loved ‘Aaj jane ki zid na karo’ by Farida Khanum. You may have heard this song in the background if you have watched ‘Monsoon Wedding’, but listening to the full version is altogether something else. I heard this song, and then I heard it again, and again to realize that I had fallen in love with a ghazal! Gawd! The sheer power of Farida Khanum’s voice capturing emotion like no other and minimalist accompaniments makes for an incomparable listening experience. Later in the year, someone sang this song at a friend’s house and ironically everyone left immediately after the song was sung.
Hindustani vocal by Ustad Rashid Khan. I heard Ustad Rashid Khan by chance. I have been in awe of Ustad Amjaad Ali Khan from class XI, in spite of this I have never had the chance to listen to the man live and this year I got my chance…but to listen to him play in the second half I had to sit through a vocal performance by Ustad Rashid Khan.I was not a vocal person (have heard some greats including Pandit Bhimshen Joshi, god rest his soul.. Kishori Amonkar and Ajay Chakraborty in the past and and an opera that I fell asleep in:-) . Anyhow ). So I braced myself deciding to deal with this before the real thing…and I was astounded.
I guess what I realized in 2010 was that I can’t discount any genre of music as not my type…
6. ‘Ragas Bhairav and Charukeshi’ by Ustad Amjaad Ali Khan
Divine
Ustad Amjaad Ali Khan is in a league that few maestros reach. The first thing that struck me was how distinguished he looked live on stage, (salt and pepper hair, sharp features, smile and gentle husky voice) adding to his 6th generation Bangash lineage. As he played ragas Bhairav and Charukeshi , the magic he made with the sarod elevated the musical experience to near divinity . If there is sadhana in music, it was this. Coupled with Ustad Rashid Khan’s performance in the first half; this made it my most outstanding concert of 2010.
7. ‘Goldberg Variations’ by J.S. Bach. played by Simone Dinnerstein.
Sublime
He is the greatest of them all, yet in the past years I have spent many more hours listening to Mozart, Tchaikovsky and Beethoven. In 2010 I started to comprehend the matchless combination of musical engineering and profound expressivity that Bach possesses. Whenever I listen to this CD, I feel uplifted and ready to start on all my projects! I hear that ‘Godel, Escher, Bach’ is a fascinating book that explores the similarities between the works of the logician, artist and structured composer.
8. ‘Ale’ from Golmaal 3 – music by Pritam and sung by Neeraj Shridhar and Antara Mitra.
Anthem
This, I like to call my anthem for 2010. The most non serious song in my list and perhaps the most surprising entrant on my list, what I found endearing about this song to me was the lyrics that kept me company in some nights I had to spend traveling, transiting and stranded in various airports and locations in December on a NYC – Mumbai (flight) journey that lasted 6 days
“Duniya ki baatein waatein chhod ke, Gummo ki baahon ko marod ke
Khushi khadi hai jis mod pe, We got to go that way, we got to go that way”
If only I figured how to live this more often – ok am trying.
9. ‘Saajnaa’ sung by Mika and Chinmayi, from the movie Lamhaa
Deeper than love
The song of 2011 for me. Lyrics by Sayeed Quadri, music by Mithoon and sung soulfully by Mika and Chinmayi in the most beautiful way possible. Melancholy and optimism (is it only me who finds optimism in this song) fill every note at the same time …It’s not fair to pick any particular lines, they are all so lovely, but if I must, I pick “Haan tera saaya toh main hoon, par sang tere naa reh sakoon, haan is safar me toh main hoon, par sang tere naa ruk sakoon….. ”. It’s a song that someone described as ‘an excellent song’ and it is! This song gives me goose bumps each time I hear it.
10. Finally, a song by Tagore
Wisdom
The lyrics go ,“Tomay natun kore pabo bole, harai bare bare (2)
Oh amar bhalobashar dhan”
and in English
“In order to discover you (experience you) in a new way, I keep losing you again and again, my love.”
It is said that Tagore’s songs can be interpreted to be sung to God, or to your love …upon reflection, my hiatus with music (love) enabled me to discover and experience music in a new, more mindful way again. And perhaps discover a bit of myself in the process as well.
By
Soma
(1 ‘Mindfulness’, a concept found often in the context of Buddhism and in the domain of meditation , refers to being completely in touch with and aware of the present moment, as well as taking a non-evaluative and non-judgmental approach to your inner experience)
From when I can remember, I have loved listening to music…it has been my companion from my school days and then in college and thereafter. In fact when I was an obnoxious teenager I would listen to music on my walkman turning up the volume so high that I could block out what was happening outside. Music had been my peace, my escape, my love.
In the last few years, in the busi-ness of life, I had forgotten the glorious happiness that music used to give to me. It took me a number of years and a few life interventions to realize what this lost companionship had cost me.
Don’t get me wrong, it is not that during the last few years I have not been listening to music…of course I have, there are some favorites that I heard from time to time, I listened mindlessly to radio countdowns and of course the latest hindi music albums that caught my fancy either through the count downs or through flipping channels on tv. It’s just that I had stopped being mindful in listening to music.
2010 was different, hence I want to share my top music musings for the year (has nothing to do with releases in 2010), many that I will carry through with me into 2011 and perhaps longer. There were many that I had to cut down to keep to the top few but this was also the fun of writing this list – so many that I had to sacrifice when they were jostling for a top ten slot.
1. ‘Forever Young’ by Bob Dylan
Reassuring
I am surprised it took me so long to really discover Dylan and Forever Young. It is a strong contender for my song of the year. It was my chicken soup for the soul song for 2010 – listening to Dylan’s raspy voice singing (saying) “May your hands always be busy, may your feet always be swift….May you have a strong foundation, when the winds of change shift” never fails to give some old fashioned inspiration….And poetry this, “may your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung, and may you stay forever young”…
On searching I found a book devoted to an illustrated version of this song…a perfect gift for young impressionable minds. As for me, am planning to get my hands on the Dylan documentary now to understand better the person behind the song.
2. ‘Here we go again’ by Ray Charles and Norah Jones
Unwind
What an unusual combination of folk in a duet, ‘genius loves company’ indeed. Bluesy, slow and meant for an evening when you want to switch off the lights, switch the lamp on and have a glass of cabernet for company.
3.‘Uff teri ada’ from Karthik calling Karthik.
Joi de verve
“jogi nach le...rang rach de…lehra ke balkha ke tu duniya bhulake naach”
Javed Akhtar wrote pretty lyrics for this song and Shankar Ehsaan n Loy lent stunning music. I wanted to turn up the volume and dance all night. The on screen visualization of this song also added to the feeling … My highly perceptive driver turned up the volume when this song played on radio and that’s when I realized I had been spending too much time in the company of my driver!
4 & 5, Undiscovered genres – ghazal and Hindustani vocal.
I pride myself on being someone with clear likes and dislikes and the two things in music that I was sure I didn’t like were ghazals and Hindustani vocal music.
I read somewhere that circumstances just reveal yourself to you…and my revelation was that I loved ‘Aaj jane ki zid na karo’ by Farida Khanum. You may have heard this song in the background if you have watched ‘Monsoon Wedding’, but listening to the full version is altogether something else. I heard this song, and then I heard it again, and again to realize that I had fallen in love with a ghazal! Gawd! The sheer power of Farida Khanum’s voice capturing emotion like no other and minimalist accompaniments makes for an incomparable listening experience. Later in the year, someone sang this song at a friend’s house and ironically everyone left immediately after the song was sung.
Hindustani vocal by Ustad Rashid Khan. I heard Ustad Rashid Khan by chance. I have been in awe of Ustad Amjaad Ali Khan from class XI, in spite of this I have never had the chance to listen to the man live and this year I got my chance…but to listen to him play in the second half I had to sit through a vocal performance by Ustad Rashid Khan.I was not a vocal person (have heard some greats including Pandit Bhimshen Joshi, god rest his soul.. Kishori Amonkar and Ajay Chakraborty in the past and and an opera that I fell asleep in:-) . Anyhow ). So I braced myself deciding to deal with this before the real thing…and I was astounded.
I guess what I realized in 2010 was that I can’t discount any genre of music as not my type…
6. ‘Ragas Bhairav and Charukeshi’ by Ustad Amjaad Ali Khan
Divine
Ustad Amjaad Ali Khan is in a league that few maestros reach. The first thing that struck me was how distinguished he looked live on stage, (salt and pepper hair, sharp features, smile and gentle husky voice) adding to his 6th generation Bangash lineage. As he played ragas Bhairav and Charukeshi , the magic he made with the sarod elevated the musical experience to near divinity . If there is sadhana in music, it was this. Coupled with Ustad Rashid Khan’s performance in the first half; this made it my most outstanding concert of 2010.
7. ‘Goldberg Variations’ by J.S. Bach. played by Simone Dinnerstein.
Sublime
He is the greatest of them all, yet in the past years I have spent many more hours listening to Mozart, Tchaikovsky and Beethoven. In 2010 I started to comprehend the matchless combination of musical engineering and profound expressivity that Bach possesses. Whenever I listen to this CD, I feel uplifted and ready to start on all my projects! I hear that ‘Godel, Escher, Bach’ is a fascinating book that explores the similarities between the works of the logician, artist and structured composer.
8. ‘Ale’ from Golmaal 3 – music by Pritam and sung by Neeraj Shridhar and Antara Mitra.
Anthem
This, I like to call my anthem for 2010. The most non serious song in my list and perhaps the most surprising entrant on my list, what I found endearing about this song to me was the lyrics that kept me company in some nights I had to spend traveling, transiting and stranded in various airports and locations in December on a NYC – Mumbai (flight) journey that lasted 6 days
“Duniya ki baatein waatein chhod ke, Gummo ki baahon ko marod ke
Khushi khadi hai jis mod pe, We got to go that way, we got to go that way”
If only I figured how to live this more often – ok am trying.
9. ‘Saajnaa’ sung by Mika and Chinmayi, from the movie Lamhaa
Deeper than love
The song of 2011 for me. Lyrics by Sayeed Quadri, music by Mithoon and sung soulfully by Mika and Chinmayi in the most beautiful way possible. Melancholy and optimism (is it only me who finds optimism in this song) fill every note at the same time …It’s not fair to pick any particular lines, they are all so lovely, but if I must, I pick “Haan tera saaya toh main hoon, par sang tere naa reh sakoon, haan is safar me toh main hoon, par sang tere naa ruk sakoon….. ”. It’s a song that someone described as ‘an excellent song’ and it is! This song gives me goose bumps each time I hear it.
10. Finally, a song by Tagore
Wisdom
The lyrics go ,“Tomay natun kore pabo bole, harai bare bare (2)
Oh amar bhalobashar dhan”
and in English
“In order to discover you (experience you) in a new way, I keep losing you again and again, my love.”
It is said that Tagore’s songs can be interpreted to be sung to God, or to your love …upon reflection, my hiatus with music (love) enabled me to discover and experience music in a new, more mindful way again. And perhaps discover a bit of myself in the process as well.
By
Soma
(1 ‘Mindfulness’, a concept found often in the context of Buddhism and in the domain of meditation , refers to being completely in touch with and aware of the present moment, as well as taking a non-evaluative and non-judgmental approach to your inner experience)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Stay for the Jokes !
It is the monsoon and through some momentary impetuousness I have made the brave decision to get out to break the Sunday fast. Not having the courage to drive myself in the deluge that is Bombay during these months, I decide to cab it. The daughter and I bundle ourselves and our dripping umbrellas into a rickety black-and-yellow, much past its youth, and I wonder whether it has learned how to swim. The cabbie is incongruously cheerful and the prattle pours out from him quite in tune with the pattering on his roof. He rolls the passenger window down to turn the meter to 'start' and puts pedal to the floor. Not that the effect can be perceived, mind you - back when this car was built, Rajesh Khanna was the new kid on the Bollywood block, and 30 kmph made you dizzy. So let's just say that we are away at speeds moderately higher than a brisk walk. We are about to venture climbing up the flyover that will take us to Matunga and delicious vada sambhar when an SUV, horn blazing, flies past us. I hear the full Doppler effect as the monster car comes from afar, catches up, and soon goes past. Right at the point of going past though, it steps right into a large puddle of rainwater. Before I could scream in surprise at the effect, the water is being sprayed - through the still open passenger side window, and all over my 'casual but chic' sunday clothes. I am drenched in stinking rain water from a puddle. And as I start yelling at the SUV, I realize it is a government vehicle, as I read the inscription on its back - Jan Kalyan Vahini - Namaste. (Public Good Vehicle - greetings!).
You are never too far from a good laugh here in India. Most of it is at the expense of unintentional comedians roaming our streets every day.
Just this other day, I am at an airport with a senior banker who has kindly offered to take me to the lounge based on his gold card, or some such. I am happy for the partial quiet and peace the lounge offers, so take him up on it pronto. My benefactor, after making sure I am comfortably 'lounging' away, makes a beeline to the coffee machine. He looks bemused at the many options on the machine and finally, decisively presses 'cappuccino'. The machine sputters for a few moments, pours out the drink and is done. My benefactor looks at his cup, grunts, and starts scanning around for an attendant. "What is this" he scolds the confused employee - "is this all you give in the name of a coffee? Why don't you guys get your machine fixed?" - And promptly sends the man looking for 'some real coffee'.
My favorite laughs are on signboards. Take the library I went to the other day, for instance. This is one of those places that rents out books 'two at a time for two weeks'. The books look like they were printed the weekend after Gutenberg got done with his thing. A musty smell is everywhere, and the odd yellowing page is fluttering away in the dead breeze of the fan. A borrower, probably not a regular, is looking at the section on 'English literature and poetry'. He doesn't look the type, so the snob in me is instantly on guard. Aha, I tell myself, unintentional comedy alert! Our friend looks at Tolstoy, Dickens and Faulkner, and finally decides on a James Hadley Chase. Funny enough, but the setup has more potential. So wait for it, I tell myself. 'Bhai sahab ...' he begins loudly as he addresses the librarian. 'Yeh kitaab kitne ...'. 'Shhhh!' goes the librarian, rolling his eyes at the uncouth customers he has to deal with. 'Shhhhh!', and points to a board hanging on one of the bookshelves. 'PLEASE MAKE SILENCE'. Ka-Chinnnnggggg!
Then there are signs that truly intend to be funny. But somehow their writers seem to have gone just a little offbeat with their message. Take this one for instance. Driving down Bandra, my favorite Bombay suburb, the other day, I notice a firm that is engaged in the unfortunate but quite necessary services of post mortem arrangements. 'XYZ', the board proudly proclaims, and for those who were fortunate enough not to have had a past acquaintance with them, it boldly states what it offers - 'FUNEREAL SERVICES!' (Yes, no typo there. And the exclamation mark is decidedly not mine.) Now, the owner probably bought too large a board, and saw that there was still a lot of space that he could fill out. Why waste good real estate, I say. Let us just convert these into advertisement billboards for our funny slogans. But how can you write a funny slogan to attract people to a 'funereal' services company, you ask. See, that is why you weren't hired for this job. Here is how - "GRAVE PROBLEMS - NOW RESURRECTED!"
I was at a furniture shop yesterday. We looked at some piece, the guy gave us a price, we ignored him, gave him a completely made-up price from the top of our head, and told him about three other competitors who were ready to give us the product for said made-up price. He is more than happy to jump into the conversation, and gives us five reasons why this product is just not comparable to anything else on the market. "That teak is only for termites sir! This here is top quality material. I made it myself, with my own hands." We go good-naturedly back and forth for a half hour before it is time for us to leave. "I will let you know" says my wife to him, as she gathers her stuff. We are on our way out when I notice this gem right behind the"own hands" guy - "Customer is a KING" the sign grandly, if somewhat ungrammatically, states. "And a KING never bargains!"
Incredible !ndia - Come for the casket, stay for the jokes.
By,
J
(J blogs at http://brickandrope.blogspot.com)
You are never too far from a good laugh here in India. Most of it is at the expense of unintentional comedians roaming our streets every day.
Just this other day, I am at an airport with a senior banker who has kindly offered to take me to the lounge based on his gold card, or some such. I am happy for the partial quiet and peace the lounge offers, so take him up on it pronto. My benefactor, after making sure I am comfortably 'lounging' away, makes a beeline to the coffee machine. He looks bemused at the many options on the machine and finally, decisively presses 'cappuccino'. The machine sputters for a few moments, pours out the drink and is done. My benefactor looks at his cup, grunts, and starts scanning around for an attendant. "What is this" he scolds the confused employee - "is this all you give in the name of a coffee? Why don't you guys get your machine fixed?" - And promptly sends the man looking for 'some real coffee'.
My favorite laughs are on signboards. Take the library I went to the other day, for instance. This is one of those places that rents out books 'two at a time for two weeks'. The books look like they were printed the weekend after Gutenberg got done with his thing. A musty smell is everywhere, and the odd yellowing page is fluttering away in the dead breeze of the fan. A borrower, probably not a regular, is looking at the section on 'English literature and poetry'. He doesn't look the type, so the snob in me is instantly on guard. Aha, I tell myself, unintentional comedy alert! Our friend looks at Tolstoy, Dickens and Faulkner, and finally decides on a James Hadley Chase. Funny enough, but the setup has more potential. So wait for it, I tell myself. 'Bhai sahab ...' he begins loudly as he addresses the librarian. 'Yeh kitaab kitne ...'. 'Shhhh!' goes the librarian, rolling his eyes at the uncouth customers he has to deal with. 'Shhhhh!', and points to a board hanging on one of the bookshelves. 'PLEASE MAKE SILENCE'. Ka-Chinnnnggggg!
Then there are signs that truly intend to be funny. But somehow their writers seem to have gone just a little offbeat with their message. Take this one for instance. Driving down Bandra, my favorite Bombay suburb, the other day, I notice a firm that is engaged in the unfortunate but quite necessary services of post mortem arrangements. 'XYZ', the board proudly proclaims, and for those who were fortunate enough not to have had a past acquaintance with them, it boldly states what it offers - 'FUNEREAL SERVICES!' (Yes, no typo there. And the exclamation mark is decidedly not mine.) Now, the owner probably bought too large a board, and saw that there was still a lot of space that he could fill out. Why waste good real estate, I say. Let us just convert these into advertisement billboards for our funny slogans. But how can you write a funny slogan to attract people to a 'funereal' services company, you ask. See, that is why you weren't hired for this job. Here is how - "GRAVE PROBLEMS - NOW RESURRECTED!"
I was at a furniture shop yesterday. We looked at some piece, the guy gave us a price, we ignored him, gave him a completely made-up price from the top of our head, and told him about three other competitors who were ready to give us the product for said made-up price. He is more than happy to jump into the conversation, and gives us five reasons why this product is just not comparable to anything else on the market. "That teak is only for termites sir! This here is top quality material. I made it myself, with my own hands." We go good-naturedly back and forth for a half hour before it is time for us to leave. "I will let you know" says my wife to him, as she gathers her stuff. We are on our way out when I notice this gem right behind the"own hands" guy - "Customer is a KING" the sign grandly, if somewhat ungrammatically, states. "And a KING never bargains!"
Incredible !ndia - Come for the casket, stay for the jokes.
By,
J
(J blogs at http://brickandrope.blogspot.com)
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Catching up with an old friend - reply
I like the untidiness
The newspapers look well read,
The books lying where I saw them last
Maybe the familiarity makes me feel comfortable
I’m growing old you know
Remember, I’m a coffee drinker
Though I rather like the tea you make
Or the fact that you make it with the mint leaves
Can you make it black?
I’ve given up milk these days – it’s an experiment…
(In exactly what I’m not sure anymore)
Let me share with you my favorite songs
Many from the past, they will come back to you,
Some are new,
I will let the lyrics do the talking
To tell you how the time has been since we last met
Where life has made me go and made of me
Might do better than the words I will speak…
Tell me , how it has been
I want to know a little more about your story
Before I leave, who knows when
We will have this afternoon to share again
The two of us with this cup of mint tea,
In this sunlit untidy living room of yours.
By,
Soma
The newspapers look well read,
The books lying where I saw them last
Maybe the familiarity makes me feel comfortable
I’m growing old you know
Remember, I’m a coffee drinker
Though I rather like the tea you make
Or the fact that you make it with the mint leaves
Can you make it black?
I’ve given up milk these days – it’s an experiment…
(In exactly what I’m not sure anymore)
Let me share with you my favorite songs
Many from the past, they will come back to you,
Some are new,
I will let the lyrics do the talking
To tell you how the time has been since we last met
Where life has made me go and made of me
Might do better than the words I will speak…
Tell me , how it has been
I want to know a little more about your story
Before I leave, who knows when
We will have this afternoon to share again
The two of us with this cup of mint tea,
In this sunlit untidy living room of yours.
By,
Soma
Friday, January 14, 2011
Catching up with an old friend
Welcome in,
Ignore the untidiness -
I haven’t changed much, you see.
Make space
Toss newspapers aside -
Always room for you here, somewhere.
Do you like tea ?
Or filter coffee ?
Some memories have faded with time, and age.
Listen to music
And slowly unwind,
Let’s not catch up with each other’s lives, not yet.
A remark
Or two, stray details,
Meandering conversation, so content.
By,
Zen
Ignore the untidiness -
I haven’t changed much, you see.
Make space
Toss newspapers aside -
Always room for you here, somewhere.
Do you like tea ?
Or filter coffee ?
Some memories have faded with time, and age.
Listen to music
And slowly unwind,
Let’s not catch up with each other’s lives, not yet.
A remark
Or two, stray details,
Meandering conversation, so content.
By,
Zen
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Review of ‘The King’s Speech’
Yesterday, on a snowy and confusing day, I watched ‘The King’s Speech’. It did me a lot of good.
Directed by Tom Hooper and having Colin Firth cast as George VI, it is a personal story of the current Queen Elizabeth’s father. Actually, one aspect of her father, his speech challenge and how he finally overcomes it with the assistance of his wife - played by Helena Bonham Carter, who helps him to find a speech therapist.
As an aside, the movie reminded me of- in the most obvious way, ‘The Queen’ which was enacted superbly by Helen Mirren. Anyhow, that is quite another topic.
Getting back to ‘The King’s Speech’, let’s get the story out of the way. The film starts with a scene where The Duke has been asked to give a speech on behalf of his father - he is standing in front of a large congregation of people and unable to even start. Tears well up in his wife’s eyes and that is the end of this scene, it effectively tells you what ‘the conflict’ in the story is going to be all about.
The broad framework of the story is about King George V who wants one of his sons to take over the throne; the younger brother, Duke of York (Bertie) is the preferred option, but has a stammer and this comes in the way of making a speech – which is the key form of communication with the people. From his childhood he has had the stammer and his father and brother have always made fun of this. Now he is sure he cannot change, more so when his father is pressuring him; even though his wife – a confident and pushy Elizabeth (enacted with panache by Helena Bonham Carter) - keeps fixing appointments with a multitude of therapists whom she seeks out from time to time. One even makes him do crazy things like putting marbles in his mouth and read, needless to say nothing works.
Nothing seems to work, that is, until she finds this therapist from Australia named Lionel Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush) and convinces her husband to meet with him. He is someone who works on his own terms in his own office on his own principles with his very own methods. He refuses to bend the rules even for the Duke of York (which is what Colin Firth is for most part of the film). Geoffrey Rush has his own value system including keeping the confidence that the Duke is his patient from everyone, including his own wife.
When teacher and student meet there is initially a clash of words, the Duke not being treated in the way he is used to, Logue not agreeing to bend his rules. A number of witty and humorous exchanges follow (the dialogues are very English as is the wit!) and finally the Duke stomps out, irritated and giving up yet again. Only this time he has been given an LP that recorded him reading from a book while having on headphones playing loud western classical music.
Obviously this record appears subsequently when the Duke is having a frustrating quiet moment to himself, and he is astounded to hear himself speak almost without a single stammer or pause that usually intersperse his speeches.
This takes him back after some deliberations and days, to train with Dr. L. This now forms the most interesting part of the movie – as L systematically treats him in a holistic manner, peeling the layers off to find the story behind the stammer. Most problems in life that are treated turn out to be only symptoms till someone peels the layers off and finds what lies within. I learned for example that no child is ever born with a stammer, it develops sometime in childhood and is usually linked - as in this case too – with certain other life issues.
Over time, Dr. L and Bertie realise that from being therapist and student, they are becoming friends. However, sometime later, they have a bitter debate that ends with Bertie marching out of L’s life saying this is treason. Meanwhile, events in the land have moved on. After King George V’s death, David becomes King and then has to abdicate as he must marry his twice divorced American love; he makes a speech to that effect relinquishing the throne to his younger brother Bertie, who chooses to be called King George VI to maintain continuity with his father’s times. You can then see Bertie getting overwhelmed with the responsibilities and state of things as they are, in a moment of weakness he is even seen to break down crying in front of his wife one day. Quite a thing for the English royalty I say!
It takes a while for the new King and L to find each other and apologize (both do) and then all is well. It is 1939, Bertie must now deliver a speech about going to war and inspire patriotism and unity amongst people …and now comes the crux of the movie. This speech is to be on live radio with no scope of editing or cutting. And all L’s training sessions will be now put to the test. The King is awfully nervous and in the last one hour whilst rehearsing with L in the room, he just can’t seem to get it right, his stammer comes in the way and he needs all the help.
To me the essence of the film and the relationship they share (that far exceeds therapist and student) happens in the dialogue moments before the King is to deliver his important speech. L says “Have faith in your own voice and know that a friend is listening”.
It is a feel good essence, takes you back to a space you once knew where people cared beyond the surface level to go within and understand the core, where people had a knowledge beyond the superficial, where they applied common sense and not text book medical theory and most of all when people had the time, will and ability to be good people.
And this is the moment that might bring a tear to the corner of your eye as it did to mine…isn’t that what we all crave, when we feel a little rocked, a little confused, someone who can remind us to have faith in our own voice and the reassurance that a friend is listening.
Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush have chemistry that on screen romantic couples can seldom boast of, Helena Bonham Carter does a fine job too. The dialogues are well written, the direction obviously great. This movie has a soul that makes you feel warm on a cold evening.
Watch it – for the outstanding performances, well written dialogues and for friendship’s sake.
By Soma
Directed by Tom Hooper and having Colin Firth cast as George VI, it is a personal story of the current Queen Elizabeth’s father. Actually, one aspect of her father, his speech challenge and how he finally overcomes it with the assistance of his wife - played by Helena Bonham Carter, who helps him to find a speech therapist.
As an aside, the movie reminded me of- in the most obvious way, ‘The Queen’ which was enacted superbly by Helen Mirren. Anyhow, that is quite another topic.
Getting back to ‘The King’s Speech’, let’s get the story out of the way. The film starts with a scene where The Duke has been asked to give a speech on behalf of his father - he is standing in front of a large congregation of people and unable to even start. Tears well up in his wife’s eyes and that is the end of this scene, it effectively tells you what ‘the conflict’ in the story is going to be all about.
The broad framework of the story is about King George V who wants one of his sons to take over the throne; the younger brother, Duke of York (Bertie) is the preferred option, but has a stammer and this comes in the way of making a speech – which is the key form of communication with the people. From his childhood he has had the stammer and his father and brother have always made fun of this. Now he is sure he cannot change, more so when his father is pressuring him; even though his wife – a confident and pushy Elizabeth (enacted with panache by Helena Bonham Carter) - keeps fixing appointments with a multitude of therapists whom she seeks out from time to time. One even makes him do crazy things like putting marbles in his mouth and read, needless to say nothing works.
Nothing seems to work, that is, until she finds this therapist from Australia named Lionel Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush) and convinces her husband to meet with him. He is someone who works on his own terms in his own office on his own principles with his very own methods. He refuses to bend the rules even for the Duke of York (which is what Colin Firth is for most part of the film). Geoffrey Rush has his own value system including keeping the confidence that the Duke is his patient from everyone, including his own wife.
When teacher and student meet there is initially a clash of words, the Duke not being treated in the way he is used to, Logue not agreeing to bend his rules. A number of witty and humorous exchanges follow (the dialogues are very English as is the wit!) and finally the Duke stomps out, irritated and giving up yet again. Only this time he has been given an LP that recorded him reading from a book while having on headphones playing loud western classical music.
Obviously this record appears subsequently when the Duke is having a frustrating quiet moment to himself, and he is astounded to hear himself speak almost without a single stammer or pause that usually intersperse his speeches.
This takes him back after some deliberations and days, to train with Dr. L. This now forms the most interesting part of the movie – as L systematically treats him in a holistic manner, peeling the layers off to find the story behind the stammer. Most problems in life that are treated turn out to be only symptoms till someone peels the layers off and finds what lies within. I learned for example that no child is ever born with a stammer, it develops sometime in childhood and is usually linked - as in this case too – with certain other life issues.
Over time, Dr. L and Bertie realise that from being therapist and student, they are becoming friends. However, sometime later, they have a bitter debate that ends with Bertie marching out of L’s life saying this is treason. Meanwhile, events in the land have moved on. After King George V’s death, David becomes King and then has to abdicate as he must marry his twice divorced American love; he makes a speech to that effect relinquishing the throne to his younger brother Bertie, who chooses to be called King George VI to maintain continuity with his father’s times. You can then see Bertie getting overwhelmed with the responsibilities and state of things as they are, in a moment of weakness he is even seen to break down crying in front of his wife one day. Quite a thing for the English royalty I say!
It takes a while for the new King and L to find each other and apologize (both do) and then all is well. It is 1939, Bertie must now deliver a speech about going to war and inspire patriotism and unity amongst people …and now comes the crux of the movie. This speech is to be on live radio with no scope of editing or cutting. And all L’s training sessions will be now put to the test. The King is awfully nervous and in the last one hour whilst rehearsing with L in the room, he just can’t seem to get it right, his stammer comes in the way and he needs all the help.
To me the essence of the film and the relationship they share (that far exceeds therapist and student) happens in the dialogue moments before the King is to deliver his important speech. L says “Have faith in your own voice and know that a friend is listening”.
It is a feel good essence, takes you back to a space you once knew where people cared beyond the surface level to go within and understand the core, where people had a knowledge beyond the superficial, where they applied common sense and not text book medical theory and most of all when people had the time, will and ability to be good people.
And this is the moment that might bring a tear to the corner of your eye as it did to mine…isn’t that what we all crave, when we feel a little rocked, a little confused, someone who can remind us to have faith in our own voice and the reassurance that a friend is listening.
Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush have chemistry that on screen romantic couples can seldom boast of, Helena Bonham Carter does a fine job too. The dialogues are well written, the direction obviously great. This movie has a soul that makes you feel warm on a cold evening.
Watch it – for the outstanding performances, well written dialogues and for friendship’s sake.
By Soma
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