Idle musings

 There are certain people for whose existence you feel grateful, whether you are personally acquainted with them or not. To those who value our environment, David Attenborough is certainly one among them. This is a man who has dedicated his life to understanding the natural world and more importantly, making the world aware about its beauty as well as vulnerability for more than half a century now. He has consistently committed himself to use the resources at his disposal to document nature in all its expanse, variety and ability to sustain entire ecosystems. Truly marvellous, if you take time to really observe and appreciate its different facets. But, enough of praise. I need to draw your attention to his latest documentary, or more accurately, his witness statement  - A Life on our Planet (2020).  In lucid language coupled with stunning visuals and searing facts, Sir David lays before us the immensity of the natural world, whose beauty and bounty we have so relentlessly...

 Satyajit Ray's Jalsaghar (1958) begins and ends with the shot of a swinging, ominous, almost spectre-like chandelier. This single object in the music room of music connoisseur Biswambhar Roy's mansion will go on to symbolize the disintegration of the wealthy landlord. Its swinging motion further on forebodes an oncoming tragedy in his life added to his shaky fortune, and one hour into the film, cobwebs decorate the grand chandelier that once witnessed great performances and crowds. Most frames beginning with the first close-up of Roy are reminiscent of Bergman films. Befitting the title, music augments the scenes of splendour and desolation alike. *Spoilers ahead*  The death of his wife and only son throws a pall over Roy's waning prestige, and he abandons his passionate love for music. The huge mirror in the music room ruthlessly reflects his debilitating frame; he has aged rapidly in the four years after their death.The palace becomes a shadow of its former self. A stray...

 17 August 2020  There are certain books you read that make you realize you are taking part in something momentous, right from the beginning. Naalukettu by M. T. Vasudevan Nair is among them. A sweeping inter-generational tale comparable to One Hundred Years of Solitude and reminiscent of films like Manjadikkuru , it is the travails of a young man living in a feudal, highly patriarchal and casteist society in North Kerala. A tale of high - standing wealthy families and their disintegration steeps the reader engaged in a wave of very humane emotions - the need to belong, growing up as an outcast, the complexities of adolescence magnified by poverty and familial discord, a mother's love that is unmarred by family feuds or economic standing, the need to escape from debilitating roots, and the strange ways in which fate works towards retribution. It reminded me of how much we have changed as a society, and yet still remain clinging to old social mores. It is a splendid roller-co...

 We always fashion these words for ourselves, especially on social media. Words like wanderlust, cinephile,flaneur... But how many of us really take the pains to understand the meaning of the term we so easily appropriate to describe us or our work? Very few do. I fully comprehended the significance of "flaneur" only when I stumbled upon the blog of Mayank Austen Soofi, popularly known as The Delhi Walla. Travelling all over the city of Delhi, especially its lesser-known corners, is his chief pastime. An avid reader of Proust, Austen, Dickinson and Stevens, among others, he is an expert at hunting out the most mundane as well as most extraordinary and heartwarming stories off the streets, and recording them in photos and writing. He has been meandering through the city for more than a decade, revealing sights and stories unknown to tourists and even residents. and he has garnered quite a following in the process, published a few books and been featured in The New Yorker. Duri...

He had always been a sickly child. When the other kids played to their heart's content, through heavy rain and late into the night, he would inevitably break a knee or bruise an elbow and thereby find a reason to come home. I would have to bandage the wound and console the child, already bawling and clinging to me desperately as if hiding from the world.  I loved fulfilling my motherly duties, but his withdrawal from the outdoors unsettled me. I knew all children couldn't possibly be alike, but I strongly believed that he needed rain and shine as much as the indoors, and the million little things that a child inculcates from playing as a team.  I tried probing into the matter, to see if someone had hurt him, discouraged him, or if he was interested in something less popular. I tried enrolling him in the school team, meeting his friends, getting his dad and teachers to intervene, before I finally gave up. Maybe he just wasn't made for the outdoors, and I didn't want to f...

Another New Year's. The end of a phenomenal decade. But i can't help reflecting that it is just the passage of time. After all, aren't calendars and even days of the week, a man-made notion? Just another reason to celebrate? I believe so. Social media's infectious reach ensured that those who had no plans to party felt a sense of lacking. Looking around at the festivities in town, I wondered what celebration was due for the people who ensured that a section of the society could party their heart out and return home safe. The police offers, the kitchen staff in numerous hotels, security staff in various offices, the Metro officials, and so on. Might they not be feeling the sting of not being able to be part of the festivities themselves? Whatever be the occasion, festive season or not, try to be kind to the people around you and made things a little easier. Life is hard enough anyway, why add to the trouble?