Doodling

I wonder if a writer's block can last a lifetime. You see i feel i am half-decent when it comes to writing, but when it comes to writing i am also like one of those fountain pens which have dry ink and gunk plastered on the nib, which just makes dry scratchy noises when it tries to write.
Notwithstanding that rather pleasing analogy, i must say, there are times when i feel that i can only speak, that too in very controlled circumstances, and never write well. Maybe i can be like Socrates who had declared that he would never write, but then i need a Plato who will do so on my behalf. Maybe i just need to start podcasting, but that's a chapter that still has time to begin. Right now i will only try to write these moronic posts as often as possible so that at least the ink doesn't run dry. My brother feels that to be good at writing one needs to write a lot, and often. That's true i suppose, again to return to my analogy of the pen. The only way to make that dry rusty pen start writing again, you first need to doodle and scribble a lot.
That's the gameplan now, "Float like a butterfly" before i can "Sting like a bee" i guess.

Scarlett (22 June 1994 - 10 January 2007)

Somebody said about their dog, "You taught us to love", i don't want to repeat it, but it is so fitting.

My beloved Scarlett passed away on the 10 of January. It is a hole in my life that may never get filled, and i hope it doesn't. I will always keep a space for her to come and settle when she wants.

Her traces that reman on all of our collective existence will take long before we can accept things. The sound of her long nails around the corners, the hair on our clothes, the food scattered around her bowl, her poo and pee in sundry places, and her pride of place on all the beds and sofas in the house.

And she was extraordinary in that nobody who knew her ever could dislike her or help loving her for she had sucha perennial flow of warmth and affection as was hard for any of us to ever understand.

We were each others constant companion for many stretches this past year, and remained so till the end. It is only now that i felt truly alone in my house despite the rest of my family being elsewhere for a long while even before this. If anyone would ever say: "Oh, so you're staying alone now", i would never think twice before clarifying that, "I have Scarlett with me".

Nobody ever got her name right, maybe she was never meant to be common, she was truly extraordinary for me.

She's taken her place alongside my grandmother (Didu) as my guiding and ever-watchful stars for life ahead.
Her memory i will always try to keep alive by now treating all animals (and humans, those few who truly are divine as animals) like Scarlett and in her memory forever try and ease any others' treacherous way through an otherwise lonely life.

Scarlett -

Beautiful and loving;

You taught us so much

About being better humans.

Look after me, Scarlett. Good girl.

Welcome 2k7

ah new year. what a plunge, what a lark.
resolutions, yes...learn bengali, lose weight and also be fitter, study hard, read lots, be less critical/cynical, blog more, yata yata yata.
the year hasnt begun very well because of some personal reasons, but to pull happiness out of that is the key. not for myself, but to make myself a medium to spread joy for others.
something i will always try to do is some good volunteer work. thats something that everybody should do but we hardly find the time. but i cannot tell you what a feeling of purpose it gives you. all else comes to naught.
i personally will work for animal shelters, lending a hand and donating whatever i can.
what say, anybody done anything like this? i have only had the oppurtunity 2 times, but that's just the beginning in my life.
happy new year again everybody.

Gandhigiri

Well, all my loyal fans (explosion of laughter echoing in empty valley) I is back.

I went to watch Lage Raho Munnabhai with my mother (can you hear me?) today at Rivoli. Tickets were almost over so I had to be strict and say “Bhaisaab line mein aaeye” to people behind me who were running amuck hearing tickets were dwindling. got them, though not together, was worried that without me my mother would not follow the movie beyond “Good mooooooorning, Mumbai” (which I have to say was the most irritating RJ line ever, because of its high pitch.)

Well, people have been gushing about this movie, and most of it is pretty well-deserved, but far be it for me to say something is without faults (except Ray and Kurosawa…I’m a wannabe but with a glass of bubbly). It is good fun, but you know that this only works if in this world builders call press conferences and not underworld dons, and if people give sincere advice over the radio and not make up a skit for TRP’s. I am a cynic that indeed the world could do without, but for me the truest line was “Desh toh hamare ho gaya, par log paraaye ho gaye”. Hear, hear.

But, nevertheless do watch it, because the problem lies not with the film but that when people leave the theatre they immediately cut to reality where the movie is a movie and their authority to act like pissoff’s is divine. so in front of me someone spat on the wall of the theatre because their spit is a shower of blessing on the film which audaciously addresses this very issue in a sequence. Wah, Wah. Kya baat, kya baat.

If even one person after watching this movie has imbibed its message enough to think before spitting on the street, I would say a greater award than any oscar would have been received by the film.

As for the real award…no chance…ditto RDB.

Thank you.

(Bow)

Rang De Basanti

This a non-cohesive review of the last film that i watched in the theatre.
I was otherwise occupied while writing it and hence do not stand by its quality. It is just something that i wanted to write on.
Much obliged for your tolerance.

The Colours of Integrity

Aamir Khan seems to have a penchant for making films with pro-active characters gunning for change and taking the onus upon themselves to initiate it. If you see his filmography from Sarfarosh to Dil Chahta Hai (relatively speaking) to Mangal Pandey to Rang De Basanti, his characters have been inspired and of the type of an outsider trying to make a dent in the system. And it is maybe these characters who have made Khan an icon because these are characters that people respect. The other Khan to have such a formula seems to be Shah-Rukh Khan who has made a career out of the underdog.

But coming to the actual crux of the movie and the lesson to be learnt from it (thereby serving the purpose of a film) I have to unabashedly admit that it is a strong movie. Many have disagreed with the answer it provides to the question of youth power and the responsibility for change in our lives that is invested in each of us. “A Generation Awakens” is the tagline, but I will comment upon that later. To begin with there are great scenes in the movie that truly serve the purpose to rouse the audience, such as the, now famous, reaching up to a fighter-plane soaring above, saluting the India Gate at night, and even the fantastic high-speed bike-SUV sequence. Very slick, very well made. There are also great scenes of great poignancy that are provocative, some instances being the mock funeral procession of Madhavan that foreshadow the events to come and Waheeda Rehman’s reaction of receiving her son’s possessions.

The portion of the film that stood out for me, though, was when all the principal characters have their first taste of injustice and passivity during their campaign for justice for the pilot’s death and the crackdown of the Rapid Action Force and cellular phone toting politicians, while the common man, woman and child all are subjected to the powerplay of politics. The music is just wonderful as the song plays ‘Kuch kar guzarne ko, Khoon chala, khoon chala’. Magnifique! Hardly do I remember any movie moment in past times that has made me react with clenched fist and grinding teeth, and believe me, such injustice occurs day in and day out. I think that is the message the movie sends.

The taking up of arms and vigilante justice is the controversy of the film, prompting the audience to take their own measures to serve justice. But, that truly is not the agenda of the film, otherwise the characters would not have apologized for it on screen. I think the message is one of decisions, or taking a stand, not to fight but to defend. It is taken to the point to when one has to hit back in order to defend what one believes in, but that is the exception rather than the norm. From my own experiences of social activism I have learnt the importance of realizing that there are things to defend which can otherwise be taken for granted. I believe that everybody should find even just one issue to believe in and stand by it in whatsoever capacity, and then just see how difficult it is to stand your ground. We don’t even realize this. Maybe it is with these colours of reality that we should be bathed, and then maybe we will learn to defend what is our own and everybody’s.

Rang De Basanti, indeed.

I will never miss you because I can feel that you haven't gone.
I love you, Didu. Be proud of me always.

Help Yourself

I go this book today, a pirated one (oops), of ‘The 7 Habits of Effective People’, or Successful people, something like that. I wonder how it will be. I have a low sense of belief in these self-help books. They are nice to read, and let’s face it, no book can give us easy answers, but still I feel they don’t live upto the expectations that are created around them.

Now I could be wrong, and often I am, but there are many people who seem to really dig into these books. Are they better at applying these tools in their lives and finding the true worth for themselves? Or do they just have lower expectations? Somehow I was expecting a lot more when I picked up ‘Rich Dad, Poor Dad’ (original copy, left a smoking void in my pocket) and it was more Confucious than Wall Street, wise, yes, changed anything in my life, no. But my brother the investor was born out of this book (you can see for yourself @ journeytowealth.blogspot.com). Another slight disappointment was ‘Johnathan Livingston Seagull’. Good book, vey inspiring and with soaring narratives (pun intended), but somehow I expected a greater story. It was more like a story book, slightly dumbed down, into the form of a fable. And the greatest example of that, the grand masterpiece of this genre (which is not really a compliment) is ‘Who Moved My Cheese?’ Ouch, that book was bad, almost a betrayal for me, really. I mean, I get it, rat race, cheese at the end of the maze yata yata yata, you don’t have to spell it out for me. Rise to my level.

But maybe that’s me.

On a lighter vein, I watched a 45-minute stand-up comedy routine by a man called Russell Peters today. He’s good. He’s an NRI from Canada I think, or the USA (why do they say the US? Every country can be US) and he seems to specialize in identity/racial comedy, being the brown man in North America himself. The one I saw was a TV appearance I believe, Comedy Now. He has great bits on African names, his Indian dad and Chinese shopkeepers. Real nice. The only other stand-up comic, apart from Jerry Seinfeld, that I have liked. He’s 2nd in a field of 2. Jerry Seinfeld is a demi-God to me, and I will try and write about him another time, and try to do full justice to him (and obviously Larry David) later. I am a fan of his show, as you might have guessed.