Have a 'Filmy' Onam

Well,  belated ഓണാശംസകൾ  to all Malayali pals out there. Like any other 'quintessential'(oft recently this word began to have lewd associations for me, thanks to a cranky pal.) Malayali, I had  gala celebrations( or was victimized by it) at college, which consisted of  pookalams comprising of salt, saw dust and a few flowers, an ഓണസദ്യ  and a couple of DSLR pics for proof.
At home, thanks to the umpteen number of TV channels showcasing  newly released( some were even released on the TV!) movies and innumerable interviews with film stars who fondly reminisced their memories associated with, and went on reiterating about their busy lives and tightly packed schedules, I was kept engaged.. This is a favorite part of mine as, if not all of them, very few of them are seen to be affected by this syndrome of talking about things they don't understand or pretending for somebody else. There are beauties with brains in Cinema, but a few make it evident that they are not fit to talk about anything other than lipsticks and sunscreens. Yesterday I cried watching an interview of an actress, who was shocked by the 'newses' of 'misuses'.:p

Conscious of the fact that Onam had been much better when I used to be little, with cousins all around, presided by benevolent grandparents, I realize that like any other festival, Onam too, is about togetherness and warmth. Life hacks might have made life pretty easier, but the price paid is evident. Bliss. From that of the petite but profound pleasures of life. Maybe this is a part of growing pains as well. People abroad celebrate it with much gusto and nostalgia,whereas back at home, we sit glued to the TV screens. Well, it has become a pattern now. The mode of celebration. Who knows, generations later, we would be telling our grand kids the tale of the benevolent king Mahabali and the traditions associated with Onam. "We used to watch films in TV back then you know? Of Mohanlal and Mammootty... What a time we used to have back then..."

GenNow, Dating and the 'Me' syndrome!

The last time I was on Facebook, I received a friend request from someone who apparently seemed a stranger. After looking close at the profile picture, it dawned upon me that I was staring at a second cousin who was hardly ten. Seeing her wall posts which were mainly constituted by Robert Pattinson in his ghastly Twilight look and some other chick flick movie posters, I wondered. What was I doing when I was ten? Baking mud cakes? There were also snippets of conversation between her friends on dating, stalking and what not. Why, I can’t help smiling reminiscing about my own ignorant childhood. The first time I heard the song DATING from the Tamil film Boys, (I might have been 10 or 11 back then) I imagined it as some kind of a game. :-) (Well it is, for the majority). Forget reminiscing, scanning through a yellow newspaper last day, the leading headline was"Dippy has too many dates", as if the sociopolitical structure of the country was dependent on the number of her dates.(And don't ask me who  Dippy is, I don't have the least idea.) Well, as they say, ignorance is bliss,  at least sometimes. 

Millennium’s teens swear without second thought and are adept in mastering them. Many of them swear for no apparent reason, like "Motherfucking Lord, I dropped my pen.." as if not swearing makes them uncultured and primitive.  The shocking truth is some of the Godforsaken parents smile and nod at them, wondering” My kiddo ees speaking engleesh”. Forget swearing, there is a chance of getting branded 'orthodox' and 'hopelessly narrow minded and outdated if you abstain from that. But what about learning to care for others? What about realizing there are other pronouns other than 'me', 'my' and 'myself'? Having always been a person who stood gaping at the smart-alecks who won their way through sheer selfishness, and wondering at times if life isn't just to the meek, maybe I'm saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

 Capital cities often frighten me and that too, for no particular reason. Years back, way back in my school hood years when  I had to join in a new school in Trivandrum, a pompous girls' one, I was made to sit next to the topper of the class, a quintessential bespectacled one. Clearing my throat I asked her, meekly " Umm.. "Can I have your Geography notebook?"  With a glare, she replied" Can't give you. My notes are for me to study"Flushed, I turned my face to a group of students who were eying me with  sympathetic expressions etched across their faces. I was told later by a bunch of eager girls that she shared nothing with no one in the fear of losing the much cherished first rank. And I was like..." God! These kind of girls do exist" as the only instance I have seen them before was in English chick flicks and Enid Blyton novels.( They can be seen in plenty in Trivandrum, don't ask me why, coz I honestly dunno. I'll tell you this. In one month, I was back at my old school. :p)

And the mountains echoed- A review

After I finished the book, I sat still for quite a long time, the book on my lap, a faint ghost of a smile on my lips. And I know we all love  books that do that to us! To all those who love Khaled Hosseini, "we share an interesting quirk, c'mon, let's be friends" :)
Out of all the myriad quotes that describe the umpteen qualities that should adorn an author's creative paraphernalia, I love a simple one the best. He should "make 'em smile, make 'em cry, make 'em wait." And this man is best at this!
This latest from him will prove to be a good read to all Hosseini fans, and for me, this was the best of the three. The Bloomsbury guys have done a superb design job, the pages etched with imprints of feathers, which play an important part in the story. His language is precise, poetic and purrfect!
The novel opens with one of the lead characters narrating a fable, supposedly Afghan,but like all fables, an Indian or Malayalam version was already familiar to me. Unlike the previous novels, this presents a medley of characters and a number of locales ranging from Afghanistan, Greece and Paris.All Hosseini novels embody the fact that life is neither black nor white and this is no exception. I'm a person who has this tendency to flinch at overtly dramatic and cliched moments in a story. I'm afraid it takes much to convince me as far as drama is concerned. And this is exactly why I love his works.Most writers might tend to argue with me on this point on the inevitability of drama, but I think that drama has to be camouflaged at most occasions.when Hosseini says "this happened", you know that was bound to happen.You realize this is life.You feel and cry for characters.(caution: a major catharsis takes place.) You realize how fate can be blatantly cruel to people like Thalia and yet, you marvel at her strength.You realize you haven't gone through anything. You stop taking things for granted. You realize that life is drastically different from the soaps and Karan Johar films you see. You realize that the heroine doesn't slip on a banana skin and fall into the hero's outstretched arms. You know that they aren't exactly going to live happily ever after. You know that life isn't as simple as that.
At the same time you know that life isn't wailing in tears. You realize that life has got more issues than facing a demonish mother in law. You know life is difficult, and you know that you can pull through- with a smile on your face.Throw your self improvement guides to the winds and grab a copy of And the Mountains Echoed. Live life:)
Khaled Hosseini is the master of the art of smiling between tears.Heck, I love this guy!                                

Angels Uncatered For

If there is one place on earth that I try my best to evade on a routine basis, that should be a hospital. I have met several others who share this quirk with me, but in me, it gets transformed to a phobia. The only instance I feel better is on visiting new moms. The smell of disinfectant, the general sombre air, hallways that echoes eerie sounds of footsteps... ooh! I don’t know. I have always marveled at the mental orientation of medical students who study in an atmosphere like this. A best pal had once remarked that she finds the air extremely conducive to academic exertions. I doubt if my literature counterparts would agree. I guess not. It is true that doctors are usually meted out the honor and respect that their jobs deserve and in some cases, more. But I reckon there are few others who deserve some consideration as well. The last time I visited my grandfather in a private hospital, I saw the much familiar sight of nurses running around in the corridors, their arms loaded with trays of medicine and other knickknacks. I don’t know if I should be adding “their faces with a smile” phrase. Many people have remarked that that was a false cliche for many of them were actually bitter. I wonder how they would feel after wiping someone’s shit. Well, seriously! It is really easy for people to be criticizing but just imagine a day in their shoes? If at all some of them are bitter, I don’t think many of us deserve to complain. Well in my case, I certainly don’t. I listened to my grandmother sympathizing with them.” They don’t have a moment’s rest”. She said. After getting out of the building, I almost sighed with relief. Through an open door, I heard somebody yelling at a nurse. I... blinked. That's what many of us can do, after all. 

An Inception!

Why should I be starting a blog? Not being suffering from occasional outbursts of intellectual hysterics, a stranger to online figments of creativity, much more familiar with pen and paper, coupled with the relentless manner in which the Blog guys prevented me from having a username I like, count against the aspiring blogger in me. Well... Everyone seems to be talking about blogs these days (the talk had, I realize, begun ages ago and are in fact almost dying. I couldn’t have been sooner.:p )   and I’m here to have a look. That is, for the major part... But then there is the writing. As Alexander Pope had said (yeah, I hope it was him) we all think a lot but giving expression to the thoughts can be a herculean task. I hope I can talk, err... blog about all that clouds my mind. Book reviews, films, music, smells, sights, emotions, issues, everything. Will someone bother to stop by and take a look is the question. (Shakespearean style).  Well, we’ll see...