Idle musings

The Joker . Directed by Todd Philips. This is not a review, since I don't consider myself a good critic and I need multiple rewatches to grasp the film in its full depth. But this movie killed me on the inside,the stark loneliness at the heart of it The kind that breeds hatred for all of humanity. When you are prepared to do anything for people to notice you, to acknowledge your existence, even if that means heinous violence. The rejects in society. Those who seem not to succeed in whatever endeavour they set themselves to, piling failures upon failures, until it is branded upon their heads that they are worthless, unwanted. Arthur Fleck may or may not be the exaggeration of a predicament atleast some of us have faced in this wretched world. The cinematography and soundtrack of the film are magnificent, adding to the tragedy of his tale. The movie never seems as simple as the tale of an adopted child. It is a searing look at mental illness, about what rejection and failure ca...

Reflections on frames Shadows and games Sparkling hair, jhumkas ablaze Minimal light lent ambience To my gaze. Courtesy of a poetry workshop I attended today. We were asked to pick any object around us and write a poem on it.

Enough has been said about this, but here goes: Nothing changes. The neighbourhood uncle's eyebrows contort with displeasure at my choice of clothing, just as the pimp at the bus stop eyes my body with glee. I don't know whether to shift in discomfort or to lift my chin up in defiance. Everybody is content to grab their paycheck without an once of sincerity whereas I am torn between duty and security. Optimism fights to stay afloat as the cynic in me takes over. Again that refrain - What is the world coming to? How long can the era of selfishness last? Is this life a blessing or a curse? Am i ungrateful if I say the latter? At the back of my head, I hear the age-old accusations - that I am luckier than many. Is it defeatist to say the fate of the woman hasn't changed? No answers, and I am forced to go on. Too tired to ask the same questions over and over.

The Sky is Pink (2019), directed by Shonali Bose, is a tearjerker for different reasons. Apart from its main storyline involving a fatal illness, it touches beautifully upon how a family holds together in times of intense crisis; how it is no cakewalk for either partner. Priyanka Chopra delivers another impeccable performance as a typical caring mother, Aditi Chaudhary,who is as dedicated and efficient a parent can be, and as emotional as they get. Of the many little ways in which family members care for each other, the scene where Niren (Farhan Akhtar) starts humming another song in an effort to cheer up his wife, is one I found heartwarming. 'Dil Hi Toh Hai' has become an obvious favourite. Though the major storyline is predictable as with such films, one can't help loving the Chaudhary family and their tale of perseverence and hope. But it is so much more than those two words, go watch it! Who knows, you might be glad that you couldn't get tickets for the current po...

Days like these fulfill me - When the most unruly kids oblige Throwing my worries to the empty skies Making me forget my weariness In misplaced words, despite sullen smiles Little joys that are most rewarding.

ചിലപ്പോൾ തോന്നും സ്രഷ്ടാവ് എഴുത്തുകാരെ തിരികെ വിളിക്കുന്നത് ചിത്രഗുപ്തന്റെ സ്ക്രിപ്റ്റ് എഴുതാനാണെന്ന് . അങ്ങനെ ആണെങ്കിൽ സിനിമയേക്കാൾ വിചിത്രമായ ഈ ജീവിതം ഇത്ര സംഭവബഹുലമായതിൽ അത്ഭുതമൊന്നുമില്ല . പ്രശസ്ത നാടകകൃത്തു ഗിരീഷ് കർണാടിന്റെ (1938 - 2019) മരണവർത്തയാണ് ഇങ്ങനെയൊരു ചിന്തയ്ക്കു വഴിയൊരുക്കിയത് .

We wander around in concentric circles inside our homes, not speaking or even looking at our loved ones, but confronting each others' presence 'online' on various platforms. What a strange world it has become! This thought occurred to me the other day. Soon after, I unexpectedly got a copy of Alan Lightman's In Praise of Wasting Time . Needless to say, it's going to be interesting reading. 

The onset of monsoon may be reason for jubilation to some, but for me, the rains have always been associated with an inexplicable sadness and nostalgia. 

There are these people whom you inevitably come across in life, whom you know will flit out of your orbit in no time, and you wistfully watch them leave. Nevertheless, you wish you had more time with them. And I am not talking of romantic entanglements, though that can happen too. I'm talking about the kind woman who offered you flowers on a gloomy day. The little boy who gifted you a drawing. Or that stranger who patiently listened to your rant on a long flight. They matter too. Such souls remind us to hope, when we forget there is good yet in this world. How wonderful it would be to be able to light up somebody's day like that, unrelated by blood, yet connected by that invisible thread of humanity.

19 May 2019 Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom is right up my lane of reading. Though it does tend to get overtly sentimental and predictable at times, I was awestruck by Morrie's philosophy and aphorisms. I feel like I found this gem later than I should have, but it has certainly given me hope, and reminded me of a long-lost dream to become a writer.  Tuesdays with Morrie  is one of those books which remind you of the power of literature. Indeed, the world would be a better place if there were more people like him around. The person who recommended the book to me said that it is a must-read for anyone who aspired to become a teacher. I would like to make a correction - Please, dear reader, if you find yourself with some free time on your hands, do pick up this short novel. Irrespective of your age, gender, vocation, location and whatnot, if you can follow the English language and are not averse to philosophizing, you are sure to have something to take away from this boo...

Not for the first time, I sit here in the fading evening light and ponder how a piece of metal can end up wrecking people's lives. Yes, I'm speaking of smartphones, our constant companions these days. Honestly, it is saddening how the masses have taken to this portal of endless distraction. Despite thoughtful 'posts' that occasionally pop up as warnings against the dangers it poses, we quickly disregard them, or give a 'like' and go on scrolling. So disconcerting to see people sitting next to each other, but totally ignoring their company,choosing the virtual ,momentary pleasure instead. Even the elderly, who take pleasure in moral policing the younger generation, now seem at ease with a cellphone in their palms. Everywhere you go, selfies are being taken in the most unlikeliest places you would have chosen a decade back, while doing the most mundane of activities. With a billion people willing to share every moment of their lives with strangers, how could soci...

 11 February 2019 Here is a woman's perspective of Nissim Ezekiel's poem, Poet, Lover, Birdwatcher. The idea took root in me thanks to a stimulating question being raised by one of my most gifted teachers. You can read the original poem here: (https://www.google.co.in/amp/s/m.poemhunter.com/poem-amp/poet-lover-birdwatcher/). The transposition of the female voice was roughly done one night, when inspiration suddenly struck, and is presented here in all humility (changes italicized) : To follow the pace and always to be still Is not the way of those who study animals Or men . The best poets don't mince words. The hunt is an exercise of will Not patient love relaxing on a hill To note the movement of a frantic tail ; Until the one who knows that he is loved No longer dominates but risks surrendering - In this the poet finds her moral proved, Who never spoke before her spirit moved. The quick movement, seems, somehow to say much more. To watch the ...