Sunday, May 22, 2005

Kashmir Again / Film / Osho

Kashmir, again

Tanveen, from Srinagar, staying in the hostel room next to mine hears a bang. A strange look comes over her face as she asks me what it could be. When I tell her it's a fire-cracker, she is relieved and says, 'It sounded like a grenade.'

The night before she screamed in her sleep and woke up her room-mate. She says she saw gory images. "When you've been so close to violence, for so long, you are always fearful."

A loud bang:

- I, a Delhiite, know it to be a fire-cracker, part of wedding celebrations.

- A friend from Kerala wonders which temple is having a festival!

- Tanveen, well...

This morning, my room-mate had a tear in her eye while on the phone she received the news that her student, a major in the Indian army, had been shot dead by militants near the border.
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Film

Films are difficult to explain because films are easy to understand. Films are easy to understand because films happen to you.

- Prof. Satish Bahadur, FTII

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Osho:

Put everything at stake. Be a gambler!

Risk everything, because the next moment is not certain, so why bother? Why be concerned?

Live dangerously, live joyously.
Live without fear, live without guilt.
Live without any fear of hell, or any greed for heaven.

Just live.

cactusjump:

Hmmmmm...!!

Sounds like fun...

BUT...

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

SMS

The room goes black, images flicker on the screen.

I’ve been waiting for a single message for three hours now. Feels like my life depends on it.

A man is led by soldiers across a bridge. A noose is placed over his neck, he is made to walk to the edge of a plank.

Maybe he’s just lost interest. Perhaps I’ve been too in-his-face. Could it be he’s met someone?

The soldier steps off the plank, it see-saws and the man goes down.

Deep breath. He could be busy. There could be a problem with the network, he may not have got the message.

The rope is frayed and the man splashes into the river below. He swims, dodges bullets aimed at him, reaches shore, runs to his home where his wife comes out and rushes towards him.

The phone vibrates. I do not pick it up immediately. I smile, my heart sings. I savour the moment.

As the man reaches his wife and is about to embrace her, his neck cracks backwards. He is hanging at the end of the rope. Dead.

U always hav my attention, reads the message. Big wet kiss n tight hug…

Saturday, May 14, 2005

City of Dreams / Train Story

Juhu

Just some of the things you can do on a Bombay beach:

- Fly monkey balloons.

- Watch planes circling the bay.

- Pick up a prostitute - male/female.

- Have a full-body hour-long massage.

- Wade in the water.

- Risk getting a serious infection by swimming.

- Build sandcastles.

- Play frisbee.

- Get an instant photo taken.

- Hear your fortune on headphones as told by CP30 with flashing lights.

- Buy lighted yoyos, flying discs, key chains and other assorted 'items'.

- Shoot balloons with an airgun.

- Eat:

Pao Bhaji - about six different kinds
Kulfi Falooda
Bhel Puri / Sev Puri
Channa Jor Garam
Peanuts
Chaat / Golguppa
Ice cream
Dosa / Idli
Pulao
Kala Khatta gola
And more...

- Drink:

Daab
Milkshake
Beer
Sharbat
Fresh juice
Tea / Coffee - machine or desi - thick and sweet
And more...

- Blow bubbles from coloured soap liquid, bottles of which are stacked to make patterns of crosses and hearts.

- Cuddle with a loved one.

- Watch the sun set and the moon rise.

- People watch for hours.

- Have a picnic with the entire family - bhai-behen, husband-wife, chacha-chachi, saas-sasur, bunty-babli.


Mumbaikars feel free to add to the list!


Fleeting Impressions

- Land in Mumbai at 12.30 pm. Go to lunch (pao bhaji of course!). Serial audition being held at table next to ours. Watch fascinated at Raveena Tandon and Hrithik Roshan look-a-likes. The guys in shades, open shirts, tank tops, leather jackets (in May afternoon heat), chains and lockets, bleached hair. Women in tight tops - cleavage showing, waved hair, movie make-up!

- Read Wabbster's blog. Looked out the window at the neighbouring 21-storeyed building, wondered if the stays there.

- Crowded, busy, in a rush. Bees getting somewhere, always. Coming home to multi-storeyed bee-hives without balconies.

- Most places the air smells of fish, in others it smells of rubbish. Smells of striving, pain, laughter, dreams, but most of all it smells of LIFE.

- Two feet wide pavements at night filled with tired, sleeping workers, loud traffic rushing on either side.

- You can - just get into an auto without a long discussion on where exactly you are going and a huge negotiation over price. The correct rate is one rupee less than what the meter reads!!

- You realize how aggressive, on-the-defensive, you as a Delhi-ite are, when everyone is normal and pleasant and not out to take you for a ride!

- Watching DDLJ in its 500th week - SRK as 'Raj', Kajol as 'Simran'... The audience saying the dialogues before they are said on screen...

- An autowallah telling me that the Marriott Hotel, with the flames on either side of the entrance is Amitabh Bachchan's house. No, of course I don't correct him.

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On the Jammu Tawi - Bandra Summer Special

My parents sent me away to Bangalore when I was a child, away from the trouble in Srinagar. I grew up to study medicine there. In my first year of study, I came back home to Srinagar for the Id break. One day, when no one was home, I heard a knock on the door. I opened the door and came face-to-face with some army jawans. They asked me my name, where my parents were, why I was here from Bangalore. And then asked me to come with them. I asked where, but they just said I should come with them. I had no choice but to go with them.

They took me to a building, where they suspected militants to be hiding. I too had heard talk in the neighbourhood of militants hiding in that particular building.

They pushed me forward, crouching behind me with their rifles. The ground floor was clear and so was the first floor. Then, the second floor. Next, was the third and last floor. My mouth ran dry as they pushed me towards its entrance. Since the other floors were clear, the militants had to be here. My breath almost stopped, I nearly fainted. I wet myself. But I had to move forward. I knew I would not survive the cross-fire.

Thankfully, the third floor was clear too.

They used me, a nineteen year-old, studying to be a doctor, as a shield for three hours...

Monday, May 09, 2005

News

- In a week’s time, I will be living with a stranger, for a month. For the first time in my life, I will be able to use the words ‘my’ and ‘room-mate’ in the same breath.

- I have actually given myself a 99 degree fever over worrying about all the things I have to do before I leave. I mean, really, it’s too much. I have never met such a highly-strung person as me.

- I AM VERY VERY EXCITED!!

- The Jokester says he may be in love...

- The cat has started licking the new sand that I put out in his litter box. I wonder if he is calcium or mineral deficient. :-/

- Sunfeast’s new Pasta treat totally rocks. Yummmeh. And it’s whole wheat too!

- Discovering ‘The Life of Pi’. Great book.

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Pillow Talk

You’re very sexy.

With my clothes on or off.

Both.

Hmmm. I think it has to do with you. I’m sexy when I’m with you. It’s like you bring it out.

No no! That has nothing to do with it! It’s not... It’s the way you look at a person...

No, it doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t work if you substitute anyone else for you.

Friday, May 06, 2005

SMS / The Calling Card

Had a great SMS conversation with my Mom today. As you can see, she has very fixed views on what things should be called!


Mom, think I forgot the bill on the rectangle table. Pls find it and keep safe.

It’s the glass table not rectangular

It is also a rectangle and its my prerogative which adjective I choose to use! :)

Don’t you know its the glass table? Nothing to do with prerog

So did you find it on the GLASS table?

Yes. Now on ROUND table. Mx (This is how my mom always signs off letters – an M for ‘Mom’ and an ‘x’ for a kiss)

You mean the PLASTIC one? ;)

XYZ!!! (First three letters of my name)

MOM!!!

What?

I love you!


Maybe I shouldn’t have given her that phone for her birthday!
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Let the cat out yesterday after ten days cos he had hurt his paw. Finally healed and he was desperate to go out. Didn’t return all night. At ten in the morning, I hear him meowling, and by the time I figure out it’s actually him and not a dream and find my slippers etc. he had left. But at the doorstep is a half-chewed lizard without a tail – a gift. Or a calling card perhaps!

Found him when I came home tonight on the steps of the gym opposite our house. Must have been burning off those extra lizard calories!

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Kerala Revisited

If I were born in Kerala, I would wear silver anklets on my feet. I would have doe-like eyes lined with kohl. My hair would be thick and black, drenched with oil. My skin would be dark and smooth. I would smell of jasmine.

My flesh would be made up of fish and bananas, coconuts and rice, tamarind and spices. Sea water would run through every fibre of my being.
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Lean back flat, on the warm stone. Moisture-laden warm tropical night. One calf in a green lit pool. Look up to stars and planets spaced by inky blackness. Focus on one star. Zoom in. Ball of fire. Stay connected for a long while. Feel yourself expand. From a speck of cosmic dust to a whooshing cosmic energy flying around the universe, from planet to satellite, galaxy to star, rings and ellipses to orbs. Feel super-consciousness enter and flow through you. Fame, ambition, drive dissipate. A myriad thoughts checked, unimportant. All that matters is to be. To feel this. Know this.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

The Body Beautiful / Eve / Dylan

This film made me cry last night.

http://www.oneworld.cz/ow/2004/en/films/pop/?id=6492

It’s funny, but despite all my insecurities, I have never felt badly about my body.

It’s definitely not because I have a perfect body. People describe me as thin and bony. But to my mind I look athletic and I love the way my body is. I feel hot and sexy most of the time and that’s the truth.

Yes, sometimes that belief gets a little shaken and I wish for a fleeting second that I was built more voluptuously. Like when someone I care about messaged me from a movie saying he liked watching the star’s cleavage. And I know I have none.

But these moments are few and far between and don’t occupy much mental space.
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Also saw ‘The Day I Became a Woman’ for the fourth time! I think I’ve finally had my fill of it. Nothing like getting blown away by it when you watch it the first time...wish I could re-experience that :)

Convinced the woman sitting next to me to stay for it. She was leaving after the first three films cos it was late. She said she would watch ten minutes and then go but stayed glued to it throughout and thanked me at the end for making her stay!

The lovely Bible-toting L too was surprisingly quiet and suitably awed ;) Was cursing myself initially for taking him along cos he always talks at the wrong time, or laughs loudly, or keeps messaging on his cell phone. But he behaved yesterday.

I was talking to him about whether the first part ‘Hava’ had symbolic references in a few scenes – like when the boy shows her a toy and takes away her scarf (trading freedom and dignity for ‘protection’ and ‘stability’) or the scene when Hassan is behind bars and they are sharing a lollipop. I found that scene quite sexual when I first saw the film, then dismissed that analysis as reading into the film too much. More because I feel extremely uncomfortable and uneasy at viewing children as sexual beings, even metaphorically or remotely. But yesterday again I felt it was symbolic – a man and a woman wanting to share a loving, equal relationship but being kept apart, only allowed relationships that conform to social standards.

He seemed to think that I was reading too much into it and that it was just a simple scene – but I don’t think so.

And then he said something lovely about the last scene in the third part ‘Hoora’, the scene where all the furniture is floating on the sea. He said that it’s at the end of her life that she’s able to buy for herself all the things she’s always wanted, but she now has no where to go and is at sea.

I love that! Even if that’s not what Meshkini is saying, cos I’m sure ‘being at sea’ is not an Iranian metaphor, but even so!
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When I was a child, the only music I ever listened to was Bob Dylan (besides some Nursery Rhyme tape). That was the only music my Mom ever listened to. I remember the strains of ‘Just Like a Woman’ and ‘Lay Lady Lay’ floating around as I played with blocks and painted.

But I’ve never found anyone in my age group who likes Dylan. And when I’ve tried to initiate them they’ve just ended up mimicking his nasal voice!

It’s true he is very nasally BUT Dylan is one of the best songwriters ever – nay, he’s a true poet. There is not a single song whose lyrics are not brilliant.

Here’s a sample. And if anyone wants to dis it, they can just suck my non-existent dick.

Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.


Incidentally, for those who aren’t in the know – the Tambourine Man is supposedly his junk supplier! Doesn’t take away from the poetry though...

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Reminders to Self

feelin' alright by len

it’s early in the morning and i’m feeling kind of dumb,
i'm tryin real hard but i'm having no fun,
i'm looking all around and everything looks the same,
it’s like being the smartest kid in class and having no brain.

sharon’s right beside me,yeah i feel it too.
and if you weren’t my little brother i’d take it out on you,
and d-rock and moves just lost their fat-mad flow,
it’s just a matter of time before my brains all broke.

my brains all broken, but i’m feelin alright,
i feel like im chokin, but im feelin alright,
im goin down fast, but im feelin alright,
im not gonna last, but i’m feelin alright.
feelin alright.

bad days are givin me the creeps,
and when i have them all i wanna do is freak,
and sometimes i don’t feel really strong
enough to deal with bad days cause they last too long.

we’ve been thinking hard and figuring out what to make
of all this stupid shit that makes you not think straight,
so should we just quit?
no, its not cool to run,
well you know, i think she’s right,
let’s show em how it’s done.

cause it’s not just a matter of straight up holding your ground,
it’s all about your crew and the vibe you put down,
so if we’re all here, what’s this about a bad day?
we’re not going to take it sitting down, no way.

my brains all broken, but i’m feelin alright,
i feel like i’m chokin, but i’m feelin alright,
i’m goin down fast, but i’m feelin alright,
i’m not gonna last, but i’m feelin alright.
feelin alright.
bad days are givin me the creeps,
and when i have them all i wanna do is freak,
and sometimes i dont feel really strong
enough to deal with bad days cause they last too long.

Childish? Maybe. But I've always loved this song.

Reminders to Self

- GET A LIFE.

- One and one makes two. Not one. Well, we can still hope that someday it will, but not for now.

- You are the centre of the universe. It’s all about YOU.

- Be true to yourself. No one else’s opinion is right for you.

- Listen to happy music.

- What you do, or wish to do, workwise, is important and worthwhile.

- Limit number of internet sessions a day to one.

- Reach out.

- Don’t lose yourself.

- Stop whining.

Monday, May 02, 2005

Zoe

And here is a cat with her very own blog!

Title linked to Zoe Penney...

Today is for the animals - those wonderful sweethearts who choose to be in our lives!

Hugo’s India

- By Reshmi R Dasgupta,
the middle in today’s TOI


Coming to India for the first time is an overwhelming experience for anyone. So it has been for Hugo. More so since it’s been accompanied by several other firsts: the first trip abroad and the first flight. Once he arrived in Bangalore, there have been other surprises too. The problem is, there’s not much we can do to forewarn him. Hugo is a big, golden Labrador, you see. As such, he’s rather ill-prepared for India since he’s lived all his seven years in London as a typical English dog. He’s used to long walks on the Common, hobnobbing with assorted canine companions and the odd horse or deer. He eats only dry dog-food. He displays desi bad manners like drooling and begging only at home, that too when his India-resident relatives descend on London in summer.

This summer, Hugo’s in India and it’s quite a culture shock. He’s used to seeing brown faces at home and white outside. Now there’s hardly a white face in site. Worse still, no one speaks English in quite the same accent as Moon and Nayana, his two ‘sisters’. To add to his woes, the staff don’t speak in the only Indian language his ears are accustomed to – Bengali. No wonder he’s gravitated towards the English girl who’s staying next door, like a long-lost friend: a familiar face and accent he understands. Till he picks up Kannada and a taste for curd rice, Henrietta is his link to a world he has left behind. He’s like one of those lonely English memsahibs who came to India in the 19th century and confided their impressions to their diaries.

Hugo can’t keep a diary or else I would love to know what he thought when he saw his first Indian cow on the way to town from the airport. His ‘mom’ Ruma says his ears drew back, his tail went down, his usually wide eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. Hugo’s also astonished by his country cousin, the stray dog. They seem to have no human companions, no leash or collar. As for their language, the less said the better. The other day, as Hugo was examining a car tyre intently, one such creature jumped out from underneath and berated him in a most unseemly fashion. His English sensibilities were outraged. Other surprises lurk. What on earth is that revolving object on the ceiling, for instance? Why do cars honk so much? Hugo’s face is one perpetual question mark. What does this English dog make of India?
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Was thinking of my sweet cat today and felt guilty for having somewhat neglected him recently. Was too caught up with life to pay attention to him.

And I thought, my Mom’s life was terribly complicated as I grew up. She probably just didn’t have the mental space to deal with me. I should be more understanding.

Animals always teach us something, don’t they? :)


Hey - take the dog!


Snuggle babies!


Whee!


My kinda man!


Zzzzzz....


Hyuk hyuk!


Awwww - mwuaaah!


Eggzausted!


Not bad, but make sure its strawberry next time!


Hmmm...

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Today

This morning, sitting in my yellow car, waiting for my husband to come down, I spied a bird on the tree in front with a twig in its beak. God, even the bloody birds know that the idea is to work hard to build a home, I thought to myself.

Then the twig fell from its beak and it didn’t even look down or give it a second glance. It sat on the branch for a while longer, and then simply flew away.

What the heck kind of lesson is that?
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Today my father-in-law and I cooked mutton together while my husband and his cousin lay splayed in front of the TV.

He cut the meat while I chopped the onions and potatoes. He taught me a neat trick for the garlic – just chop it up and then rub it in your hands like you would peanuts to remove the peel. Much simpler than peeling each clove, keeps your fingers from stinking as well. We chatted about this and that as we worked, and totally forgot the tomatoes which he realized once the oil was hot and the garlic was starting to burn and we had to cut them in a hurry and throw them in. :)

I feel a connection with him since the day he called two weeks ago.

This was when they had just returned from Mumbai, and he told me on the phone how he felt about B. He hadn’t called to complain or any such thing, had just called to say they were back. But then he totally opened up and couldn’t stop and spoke continuously for about fifteen minutes. And I just listened silently and cried because I feel exactly the same way he does. He put my feelings into words – ‘insensitive’, ‘doesn't care', ‘expects us to sacrifice our emotions’, ‘wants us to change our lives around his’…
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I am currently on a very dangerous roller-coaster ride and I am scared of crashing very, very soon.