Monday, June 30, 2008

Movies I want to see for some reason or the other

1. Jaane Tu..Jaane Na
It seems very teeny bopper-ish but it looks fresh and hopefully will feature real dialogues and characters of Indian youth.
2. Rock On
I may have left my rock band idolisation days long behind (okay, in the eleventh standard) given that rock music is mostly very depressing (but I love U2 and most of the alt stuff). But this flick looks interesting and different. Farhan Akhtar singing! And no, I don't need a reason to want to see Arjun Rampal.
3. The Kite Runner
The book moved me to pieces. I doubt the movie will. But I'm a sucker for Afghan culture.
4. Coco Before Chanel
Am not sure what the movie is actually titled but it stars Audrey Tatou as Coco Chanel. My Vogue-addicted eyes are craving to see this and my generally curious soul loves bio-pics.
5. Kismat Konnection
It's Shahid post 'Jab We Met'! And it looks like one of those romances where there's a lot of conversation. I like, I like. I hope not to be disappointed.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

The end of the yellow brick road

Well it's my favourite time of the year. Waking up enthusiastically to the first few weeks of school/college. A brand new year with fresh pages, newly refilled pens and new bags/stationery (now clothes/shoes). A clean slate. The summer gave you a chance to be someone new. And in a way, I am. Because this is when my birthday falls.
But somehow this year I don't really want to be anyone new. I've been a teenager for 35% of my life and I'm clinging to its safety harness.
I don't know what I'd miss exactly. I was miserable most of the time-
1) whining and trying to get over some crush or the other
2) studying and struggling to pass Maths (and eventually getting more marks in it than the subject I used to top in-Economics)
3) yelling and fighting with my mum for unbelievably ridiculous reasons (I doubt turning twenty is going to change that. Case in point: last night.)
4) scribbling pages after pages in my diary about my lack of importance in this world...or how I am on the verge of conquering it.
The list could never end.
However, I could act mature and think of all the things I've learnt ( A LOT) , all the people I've met (numerous amazing ones, people who've changed my life), all the people I've retained in my life (people who've rocked my world since before I can remember), all the places I've been (not too many, but enough to count for experience) and all the amount I've grown.
As I come to the end of the bridge between childhood and adulthood, I realise that I can't say that I'm not a teenager anymore. I'll always be a teenager inside. I'll always feel fourteen somewhere.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Life in a Jar

Photography to me is more than a hobby or a passion. It’s a compulsion.
What do I get out of it? Developing the photos is expensive. And so was the nice new digicam that I bought. And I do miss the actual moment because my eye is pressed to the lens.
But it’s fine. Moments are forgotten but a photo freezes them forever, to observe and absorb in later reflection. The essence of the moment may only be partly captured, but observing the photograph later adds layers of interpretation.
I’m not a real photographer. Apertures and shutter speeds confuse me. But I do my best. I may not take photos with technical mastery, but the photos I take have heart. It’s not those practiced smiles and poses we freeze for the camera, our arms hastily thrown around each other’s shoulders and then thrown off post the snapping of the shutter. I take pictures of kids, of funny shop signs, of flowers, of just about anything and everything as long as my battery is charged. It’s those candid moments-an uncontrollable laugh, an incredulous expression, or all those myriad people and places you spot that make you realize there are millions of dimensions to this one way dead end we perceive life to be.
Taking photos is like taking a moment home with you. Life drifts you by, like a breeze you can’t catch in a jar. And taking a picture is like actually catching that rainbow and putting in your pocket, or creating a visual impression of the happiness you feel in your heart. Some people might argue that life is meant to be savoured as you live it, and not through a rearview mirror. I agree totally. I know that life is bigger and greater than anyone can control. And I am also not trying to show everyone how I lived it. But I end up taking photos anyway.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Father and Baby Penguin

Mothers possess a natural instinct to hold or hover over their children, while fathers are relegated or relegate themselves to the background, confused about baby’s needs but more unconvinced of their capabilities to care. They surrender to the ‘superior’ parent.
On working on a poster for Father’s Day, I ruminated and scribbled down the endless possibilities of salutation to fatherhood. “The man whom you will always look up to no matter how tall you are” or “The person who taught you to be a man but to whom you’ll always be a baby” (Hallmark, hire me!) That is there, but in general, fathers are expected to be sought for intellectual and financial advice, but for the hugs and the whining-go to Mum!
Not always true. I’ll never forget the time when my 10th Board results were out. I’d done well but I hadn’t gotten the marks I deserved in Social Studies. I had been topping that subject the entire year and it was my favourite. I had worked hard and I knew I deserved much more. Of course, I told myself it was no big deal and I had to be mature about it. But I sank down on a chair beside my father while he was getting ready for work and it was on his shoulder that I lay my head, letting the tears spill. He may or may not have known that I was crying and neither would he have known what exactly for but he patted my head all the same. And with neither of us exchanging a word, all my disappointment melted away.
Recently, I have developed a keen interest in watching fathers from all walks of life interact with their children, particularly babies. The way they lean them across their shoulder or carry them on their chest catches me as one of the tenderest sights. Big men rendered vulnerable because of the small weight in their arms that is breathing into their shoulder, utterly dependent upon them.
The cutest thing that I saw recently was on the Pondicherry beach. The beach there is a narrow strip of sand between the pavement and the rocks. This father, dressed in formals was walking with his chubby toddler, fully clad in his pajamas. The little wanderer set forth on the sand, waddling like a midget penguin. The father hovered protectively overhead, encouraging the tiny steps. Whenever the toddler recognized he was about to fall, he stretched his short little arms out and placed them on the sand, attempting a rather perfect mountain pose. His father stepped in front of him and awaited the resurrection patiently. Our little man got back to his feet and resumed his march, Dad reveling in his offspring’s achievement as if it were his own.
Finally after about twenty minutes of trotting back and forth, the father picked up his little treasure and hoisted him up to the sky. And then they jogged a bit, the baby’s hands outstretched to the wind, together celebrating their glorious little world.
I’ll never know the name of the father or his little boy but I feel so privileged to have been witness to their tender moment. The boy will grow up; the father may not have as much energy to run after him. They might forget about their adventure on the beach. But I most definitely won’t.

Monday, June 2, 2008


That was some final.
I'm not the cricket type, to be honest, atleast I didn't used to be. But my best friend got passes to all the Chennai matches and I tagged along for two of them. And got hooked. Need I mention that a certain Mr.Dhoni was partly the cause?
Well, anyway, I had just gotten back from a jolly weekend in Pondicherry with 6 other reunited members of our school gang. (We've all known each other since we were 4. It's nice to get together and hang out normally after that awkward boys-hating-girls phase subsides) I totally crashed out with a severe headache and woke up just in time to see Dhoni begin batting. I followed the match intensely after that and I'm sure everyone will agree when I say it was a nail-biting one. Especially the last few moments-unbelievable. I don't know much of cricket history but I'm sure the last ball-last run thing was quite a shocker.
Anyway, we lost but we gave a hard fight! The win was just pure luck, Super guys still rule!! And here's a hug for Dhoni-the dignified one!
Okay, putting my crush aside, I haven't spoken about my much-awaited 'holiday'-the first after 3 whole years!! And I'm the kind who craves to explore new territory as much as possible.
Well, we didn't explore much but I did get to see the French architecture I was yearning to feast my eyes on. So pretty, so quaint. Each 'rue' lined with those pastel buildings. And the promenade with its neat pavements and the benches. All I recall are these mental snapshots I'm trying to preserve. The best part was our hurried auto ride back to the guesthouse when it began drizzling. It was a delicious experience, hurtling through the cobbled streets and through this seemingly foreign town.
I still didn't take in enough. Maybe I'll go back sometime and absorb all that I need to. This traveller isn't satisfied.