Of late, nothing has impacted me more than this movie, and hence it gives me something to write upon.
It was for me, a weekend gone waste. A movie which was constantly forcing me to get up and leave the theatre, but kept me glued to the seat in anticipation of some hope, something that would rescue the evening for me. But Alas, it didnt happen. When the movie got over, I was left yearning for something that would make my evening worth it, while on the other hand, I was relieved that it was over.
Another movie on the same old cliched subject of the evils in our country. The so called "social message" is nothing new or unique and the execution of the plot is distressing.
After a point the Ramleela becomes irritating and the Kala Bandar frustrating. The movie moves sluggishly, or rather, it dosent move. The Ramleela and Kala Bandar are so overdone that it leaves you with yearning for something more to happen. The monkey man is so stretched that what was chosen to be a metaphor becomes funny in the climax. The climax is particularly bad with the Bacchans meeting in heaven. It is shoddy. Abhishek Bachan's fake accent is so unimpressive and Sonam Kapoor's character is a waste, especially with the Indian Idol shit thrown in. Abhishek's sudden realisation that Delhi -6 is it for him, is just so unbelievable. Its too sudden to sink in. Its typically Bollywood. The kala bandar will give me nightmares for some time now!
Till the last half an hour of the movie I was not sure what the movie is about. Is it about the depiction of Old Delhi, is it about the self discovery of an American born Indian, is it about Bittu and Roshan, or is it a social message? It was as if the director suddenly remembered that the social message needs to be told and it was so blatant and in-the-face.
The only saving grace were the songs. Masakali is nice and the picturisation of Dil Gira Daftan is also very nice with America and India interwoven well. Apart from some brilliant actors like Divya Dutta who performs the untouchable brilliantly, I really like the pigeon, Masakali.
Thats about it, overall, its disappointing!!!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, November 24, 2008
A box of chocolates
There are some moments which half dare-half invite. You know what's in store for you and though you want it somewhere, u deny. There comes a wave which wants to sweep you away. You can either hold on or go with the flow. Life calls out for you, it demands that one bit of courage and faith to jump out of the window without caring about the consequences. You want to be strong, at least feel strong or at least pretend to be strong. One moment you are sure, one moment unsure. You dont accept that you are unsure, pretence prevails. Or maybe its not pretence but a cocoon you don't want to come out of. You want to live in a make-believe world of happiness, not knowing that once you spin the cocoon, you will be flying out in beautiful colours. You don't want to break the norm, the convention. Its convenient, its comfortable. But didn't you hate being convenient? No, Its just simple. Simplicity attracts. The moment you think that things are in control, they go out of control, or so you think. And then you get ready for the dare. You lose, but somewhere you win. Your plans fall out of place, actually they now begin to fall into place. One moment of intoxication,intoxicated with an old friendship, a long-lost love, of having that courage to step out of your cocoon, of jumping out of the window, of not knowing what you are upto. What life is upto. One moment that changes your life. Perhaps some life-changing moments, some long-lost hopes. Life is strange. God has his own plans that you possibly can't mess with. Plans that don't sink in very easily. Indeed, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you get." .
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Rediscovering Art..
"The only time I feel alive is when I'm painting." - Vincent Van Gogh.
I can't agree more with Vincent Van Gogh. The art of painting does manage to make one feel alive. The blank canvas gradually transforms into a picture and the artist sees it through every stage of the transformation.
I love to mix colours. The trial till I get to that perfect shade is so much fun..and I love the names of the colours - Burnt Sienna, Crimson Red, et al...
For the time when I am painting, I am not thinking about anything else. It makes me live in the moment. Sometimes I get so lost in the painting that after a few hours into it I realize I have colour all over my clothes.
In the hustle bustle of the city; my painting class is my quiet corner.
It also requires so much of patience to work on one canvas for so many days and so many hours till I begin to see my vision shaping up into a picture.
And yes, the artist never seems to be satisfied. Some stroke seems wrong, some colors look incomplete, there is always an itch that something can still be made better.
A regular practice for an artist is that every few minutes the artist needs to keep looking at the painting from a distance to know how the picture is shaping. Isn't it such an important lesson in life? To look at life from a distance. When you look at it too closely you see it only in bits and parts and you miss the entire picture.
I am re-discovering art and I have to say that I am loving every bit of it...
I can't agree more with Vincent Van Gogh. The art of painting does manage to make one feel alive. The blank canvas gradually transforms into a picture and the artist sees it through every stage of the transformation.
I love to mix colours. The trial till I get to that perfect shade is so much fun..and I love the names of the colours - Burnt Sienna, Crimson Red, et al...
For the time when I am painting, I am not thinking about anything else. It makes me live in the moment. Sometimes I get so lost in the painting that after a few hours into it I realize I have colour all over my clothes.
In the hustle bustle of the city; my painting class is my quiet corner.
It also requires so much of patience to work on one canvas for so many days and so many hours till I begin to see my vision shaping up into a picture.
And yes, the artist never seems to be satisfied. Some stroke seems wrong, some colors look incomplete, there is always an itch that something can still be made better.
A regular practice for an artist is that every few minutes the artist needs to keep looking at the painting from a distance to know how the picture is shaping. Isn't it such an important lesson in life? To look at life from a distance. When you look at it too closely you see it only in bits and parts and you miss the entire picture.
I am re-discovering art and I have to say that I am loving every bit of it...
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Om...
Om. It is the root of all sounds. Every other sound is contained in it and it takes one beyond all sounds.
Every other day when I step on to the yoga mat, close my eyes and start my yoga class with the chant of Om, I can feel the power in this word.
Yoga is an art that has been practised for hundreds of years. As for me, just 3 months into it and I'm in love with this art. I look forward to my yoga classes and would'nt miss them for anything.
A little bit about my yoga teacher. He is an extremely funny man. He cracks his PJs when you are in the middle of a very difficult asana, makes you laugh and you gotta do it again.
He says I am his favourite student. Thats because I somehow find a way to do every asana wrong!
But trust me, it actually feels good when you just don't feel the stretch until you make an adjustment of a fraction of a centimetre and you suddenly start feeling the stretch. Or when the yoga teacher says, just use your will power and imagination and breathe from your left nostril only. And ya, after a few unsuccessful attempts it actually works. And thats when you feel a supreme sense of control! Or when he says, focus on a point in between your eyebrows. You might wonder, how does that help? But if a slight bend in the chin at a certain angle can cause an internal change in the body, I'm sure this one also does something.
The relaxation that one feels after Shavasana is probably a testimony to the power of yoga. Coz in shavasana you are not doing anything except lying down dead and shifting your focus to different parts of the body. And its surprising how you get up feeling so relaxed.
It is a form of art that requires you to be fully present in the moment. So, there was this day when I went to class with a totally distracted head and came out just the same. So, from that day onwards I know that to get value out of it, I need to be present, both physically and mentally. In this hurried existence called Life, I am happy that by virtue of my yoga classes I manage to be totally with myself for at least a few hours every week.
Given the fact that I am staying alone, yoga class which is conducted in my apartments also helps me build a social circle. So, the other day it was really nice getting introduced to this bengali lady in the yoga class. We sometimes greet each other now with a 'kemon acho'.
All in all, its been a wonderful experience so far and as they say - to find out what it is all about, you have to practice it.
Every other day when I step on to the yoga mat, close my eyes and start my yoga class with the chant of Om, I can feel the power in this word.
Yoga is an art that has been practised for hundreds of years. As for me, just 3 months into it and I'm in love with this art. I look forward to my yoga classes and would'nt miss them for anything.
A little bit about my yoga teacher. He is an extremely funny man. He cracks his PJs when you are in the middle of a very difficult asana, makes you laugh and you gotta do it again.
He says I am his favourite student. Thats because I somehow find a way to do every asana wrong!
But trust me, it actually feels good when you just don't feel the stretch until you make an adjustment of a fraction of a centimetre and you suddenly start feeling the stretch. Or when the yoga teacher says, just use your will power and imagination and breathe from your left nostril only. And ya, after a few unsuccessful attempts it actually works. And thats when you feel a supreme sense of control! Or when he says, focus on a point in between your eyebrows. You might wonder, how does that help? But if a slight bend in the chin at a certain angle can cause an internal change in the body, I'm sure this one also does something.
The relaxation that one feels after Shavasana is probably a testimony to the power of yoga. Coz in shavasana you are not doing anything except lying down dead and shifting your focus to different parts of the body. And its surprising how you get up feeling so relaxed.
It is a form of art that requires you to be fully present in the moment. So, there was this day when I went to class with a totally distracted head and came out just the same. So, from that day onwards I know that to get value out of it, I need to be present, both physically and mentally. In this hurried existence called Life, I am happy that by virtue of my yoga classes I manage to be totally with myself for at least a few hours every week.
Given the fact that I am staying alone, yoga class which is conducted in my apartments also helps me build a social circle. So, the other day it was really nice getting introduced to this bengali lady in the yoga class. We sometimes greet each other now with a 'kemon acho'.
All in all, its been a wonderful experience so far and as they say - to find out what it is all about, you have to practice it.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Coming back to Life, and to blog...
I am back. After the long hiatus. I had forgotten that I used to blog, that I used to write; until I was reminded by a dear friend to start writing again. This new start I dedicate to you.
I've given my blog a new look, a new life.
When I looked back at some of the posts, I couldn't help but laugh at the negativity behind them. Euthanasia, literally good death, was appropriate and those posts were hence cremated.
I come back with a resolve - to stare straight into the shining sun....!
Sunshine!
- Sweta , Aug 12, 2008
I've given my blog a new look, a new life.
When I looked back at some of the posts, I couldn't help but laugh at the negativity behind them. Euthanasia, literally good death, was appropriate and those posts were hence cremated.
I come back with a resolve - to stare straight into the shining sun....!
Sunshine!
- Sweta , Aug 12, 2008
Friday, January 04, 2008
Music
"Take a sad song and make it better" - Hey Jude, Beatles.
What if I say? - " If you are sad, take a song and feel better" .
According to Wikipedia - Music is an art form consisting of sound and silence. For me, the sound and the silence is therapeutic. So many times I've felt broken and a song has mend my soul. So many times I have taken a walk with music plugged into my ears and when I have looked up at the vast blue of the sky, I've found myself transported to another world.
And I so feel like agreeing to what the wise little boy says -That God must be a musician. He must be, coz he tells me to go listen to a song whenever I am upset.
And then when I sing along, it dosent really matter if I am not in melody, coz I can sing like no one's listening and scream all my sorrows out.
And then there are songs which you associate with some people and though the people may not be there in your life any longer, whenever the song plays anywhere, you get reminded of them. And then you sing -
"A long, long time ago,
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile. "
But yes, I can be sure when I say - The day the music dies will be the day that I die."
What if I say? - " If you are sad, take a song and feel better" .
According to Wikipedia - Music is an art form consisting of sound and silence. For me, the sound and the silence is therapeutic. So many times I've felt broken and a song has mend my soul. So many times I have taken a walk with music plugged into my ears and when I have looked up at the vast blue of the sky, I've found myself transported to another world.
And I so feel like agreeing to what the wise little boy says -That God must be a musician. He must be, coz he tells me to go listen to a song whenever I am upset.
And then when I sing along, it dosent really matter if I am not in melody, coz I can sing like no one's listening and scream all my sorrows out.
And then there are songs which you associate with some people and though the people may not be there in your life any longer, whenever the song plays anywhere, you get reminded of them. And then you sing -
"A long, long time ago,
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile. "
But yes, I can be sure when I say - The day the music dies will be the day that I die."
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Mysore - I bid you adieu!
6th May 2007 - I miss the Chamundi Express to Mysore. Somehow manage to arrive still.
The beauty of the campus captivates me.
5th June 2007 - I move into my rented house. It soon becomes home. Though I don't quite like the workplace, I feel good at home.
7th September 2007 - Moving out. Bidding goodbye to the beautiful city.
I remember the tears trickling down my face when I had known that I shall be in Mysore for good. Fast forward and a silent tear wells up again when its time to bid goodbye to it.
Its strange how this city has made me feel. Its strange for me to say that I will miss it somewhere. I have cribbed enough over the fact that I was here but there is no denying that this city will somewhere be a part of me forever. The face of this city will occupy a permanent corner in my heart.
Having lived in a big city all my life, this was an experience for me. I can say that there is no denying that this place is beautiful. I love the weather here, the rains and the gulmohur trees. I love my house. It was a luxurious place to stay in. I was surprised but yes, the road is a main road. The buses going uphill wake me up every morning. I will miss the walk to the bus stop. There have been days when I have walked down this road and felt the closest I could to nature. I can't pinpoint why. Its a small place. No malls, no theatres. Most people speak Kannada. and I know what to say when they speak to me in Kannada - Kannada gote illa ( I don't know Kannada). Its strange how strangely xenophobic I have felt here sometimes. Like a foreigner. Have met some nice people here. Some not so nice.
Work wise this city hasn't given me much. The kitchen in my house here is where I have learnt to cook. I love the Mysore palace and being a guide for it. I have been there too many times. I have wanted my family and all my friends to come and visit me here. I have wanted to show my home to them, my city, the places I have discovered here. I feel a certain amount of possessiveness with this city, because I am the only one here amongst all my friends. So I feel that its my city where I want to show them around, where I want to be their host.
Life in this city is not as fast as it is in others. My company is probably valued most by the people here. They feel they owe something to the company because they have helped in its development. And this gratefulness makes me feel nice that I am a part of this organisation. There have been very few times when I have felt this otherwise. People here are simple, very. Those handful of nice eating joints that we have discovered here some how mean something to me.
There have been times when I have felt bored in this city. Super bored. And I have wanted to just escape from here.
There have also been times when I have felt that I want to retire in the peace and tranquility of this city, sitting in a rocking chair in my balcony with ear plugs in my ears and a book in my hand.
Strange gestures I have come across. Like my milkman shaking hands and wishing me independence day when he came to deliver milk on the 15th of Aug. In a big city, no one would care a damn to do that.
Auto wallahs have recognised us and greeted us at the bus stop. Could'nt imagine this in a place other than Mysore.
I have felt what it means to provide employment. My servant calls me 'amma' and she started to cry when she got to know that I am leaving. She got me a note in Hindi written from some one saying that -' please ask the next owner of the house to employ me'. She thought that I didn't understand that when she tried saying the same thing to me in the morning in Kannada. I wanted to tell her that I had just begun to understand her. And yes, I was surprised to find my throat choking when she brought me that note. I guess I will buy her a gift before I leave.
Though I have cried here over my loneliness and over work, I will miss Mysore. I will miss my house. Sorry, home.
I bid you goodbye Mysore. And leave you with the hope that I will be back sometime, maybe to fulfil my retirement dream! Till then, be as you are. Don't turn into what a big city is. Stay like this always!
The beauty of the campus captivates me.
5th June 2007 - I move into my rented house. It soon becomes home. Though I don't quite like the workplace, I feel good at home.
7th September 2007 - Moving out. Bidding goodbye to the beautiful city.
I remember the tears trickling down my face when I had known that I shall be in Mysore for good. Fast forward and a silent tear wells up again when its time to bid goodbye to it.
Its strange how this city has made me feel. Its strange for me to say that I will miss it somewhere. I have cribbed enough over the fact that I was here but there is no denying that this city will somewhere be a part of me forever. The face of this city will occupy a permanent corner in my heart.
Having lived in a big city all my life, this was an experience for me. I can say that there is no denying that this place is beautiful. I love the weather here, the rains and the gulmohur trees. I love my house. It was a luxurious place to stay in. I was surprised but yes, the road is a main road. The buses going uphill wake me up every morning. I will miss the walk to the bus stop. There have been days when I have walked down this road and felt the closest I could to nature. I can't pinpoint why. Its a small place. No malls, no theatres. Most people speak Kannada. and I know what to say when they speak to me in Kannada - Kannada gote illa ( I don't know Kannada). Its strange how strangely xenophobic I have felt here sometimes. Like a foreigner. Have met some nice people here. Some not so nice.
Work wise this city hasn't given me much. The kitchen in my house here is where I have learnt to cook. I love the Mysore palace and being a guide for it. I have been there too many times. I have wanted my family and all my friends to come and visit me here. I have wanted to show my home to them, my city, the places I have discovered here. I feel a certain amount of possessiveness with this city, because I am the only one here amongst all my friends. So I feel that its my city where I want to show them around, where I want to be their host.
Life in this city is not as fast as it is in others. My company is probably valued most by the people here. They feel they owe something to the company because they have helped in its development. And this gratefulness makes me feel nice that I am a part of this organisation. There have been very few times when I have felt this otherwise. People here are simple, very. Those handful of nice eating joints that we have discovered here some how mean something to me.
There have been times when I have felt bored in this city. Super bored. And I have wanted to just escape from here.
There have also been times when I have felt that I want to retire in the peace and tranquility of this city, sitting in a rocking chair in my balcony with ear plugs in my ears and a book in my hand.
Strange gestures I have come across. Like my milkman shaking hands and wishing me independence day when he came to deliver milk on the 15th of Aug. In a big city, no one would care a damn to do that.
Auto wallahs have recognised us and greeted us at the bus stop. Could'nt imagine this in a place other than Mysore.
I have felt what it means to provide employment. My servant calls me 'amma' and she started to cry when she got to know that I am leaving. She got me a note in Hindi written from some one saying that -' please ask the next owner of the house to employ me'. She thought that I didn't understand that when she tried saying the same thing to me in the morning in Kannada. I wanted to tell her that I had just begun to understand her. And yes, I was surprised to find my throat choking when she brought me that note. I guess I will buy her a gift before I leave.
Though I have cried here over my loneliness and over work, I will miss Mysore. I will miss my house. Sorry, home.
I bid you goodbye Mysore. And leave you with the hope that I will be back sometime, maybe to fulfil my retirement dream! Till then, be as you are. Don't turn into what a big city is. Stay like this always!
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