Inspired!

I have a new addiction. No, don't be misled by the above picture (that's a weakness, not an addiction) And unlike my last year's fix (*cough cough* people.com), this one doesn't make me ashamed to declare it.

It's Garance Doré!


Maybe I'm one of the last people to catch up on this deliciously delightful photoblogger but over the past few days, I've been hooked to her stunning pictures of amazing people, bright as sunshine writing and generally fabulous vibe.


Forget that I am in the throes of wrestling with my dissertation proposal, a couple of tons of freelance work, myriad college stuff and haven't seen the gym in three days (I need my cardio fix!) Forget that the girls Garance captures through her covetable lenseye are uniformly lithe and of the sparkling skin, vivid hair variety. Forget that I need a midnight bath. Forget that she's in Australia, Paris, London, Corsica (Corsica! New place on destination wishlist). Forget that I am in my minuscle computer room, listening to the mind-numbing 'Stop' by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and struggling with the adorable paperclip that Belle got me from the U.S. It's shaped like a thumbs-up but it doesn't exactly hold together my Yahia H.Zoubir's article on the stalemate in Western Sahara.


I just mentioned Middle East Policy Journal and Garance Doré in the same paragraph. That's probably a first.


So, what I'm trying to say is that as of this week I have learnt that even if you think you're drowning, laugh like a maniac and admire the pretty scales of fish. Chances are you'll stay afloat, swimming slowly but surely to the shore. And you would have contributed one less negative vibe to the Universe.


Too new-agey? Sorry, I'm reading 'The Power'.


So, thanks to Garance, I am going to resume proper picture taking and living life outside the little boxes of my to do list. There's no bigger thrill right now than drawing thick black tick marks next to each item but the weeks are just flying by and I should be giving out more hugs, bursting forth with more laughs and indulging in some good TV.

Which is why I took a break and watched what I could of the VMA's.

I have climbed highest mountains

I am strangely sensitive to religion because it's so personal to other people. Is that a strange reason to tiptoe around it, not wanting to choose, not wanting to succumb, taking in a bit of everything and not committing?
I am extremely spiritual. But I don't like talking about God and my relationship with him. It's only reserved for a few people, for a few midnight texting conversations and for those silent, awe-inspiring moments that life passes along.
Today I felt the need for the wide openness of a church, for reassurance. I got to go to a cathedral. I felt moved and satisfied. Fate then took me to a Jain temple. It was beautiful beyond words. Finally, a Hindu temple. As familiar as they are, Hindu temples are ever-intriguing, full of drama and sacred mystery.
I got into the car and put my music phone on shuffle: 'I still haven't found what I'm looking for' by U2 began playing.
You can't find it. You have to actively seek it. . You have to renew it. You have to let you go.

Ay,Sha

The movie with the slick posters featuring an extremely glammed up star cast was pretty tempting. Amit Trivedi's music, Sonam Kapoor's face, high fashion, promises of yet another 'new' urban India film and of course, the casually adorable Abhay Deol. I went and saw. And here are is my unprofessional opinion. Spoilers alert.

The movie begins promisingly with visuals of Sonam Kapoor zipping around Delhi in a sunshine-yellow car to the soundtrack of 'By the Way', a highly girl power song which can be the therapy song du jour. The narrative picks up but relies on the convenience of voice over introductions of everyone. But, never mind, the graphics and the characters are cutesy. We watch on. First sign of trouble: the wastage of hilarious Cyrus Sahukar and his unfunny wedding toast.

The story, or should I say biography begins. Aisha is a 'matchmaker' (the only match to her credit seems to be that of her aunt and a Colonel or Major who happens to be their neighbour also?) with an enviable Chanel, Marc Jacobs lined wardrobe. The song 'Sunoh Aisha' seems to enrapture us with Amit Trivedi's breathy voice extolling the heroine's mystique. Unfortunately, the song is wasted as although Sonam Kapoor's Aisha is beautiful (and breathtakingly so), she comes across annoying, slow-witted, immature and as Abhay Deol's Arjun rightly puts it: shallow. One thing I know about movies is that the lead is supposed to be likable. And nobody in the audience that I shared this movie liked Aisha.

Sure, I appreciate the film for its intents and purposes. Matchmaking transported from Jane Austen's aristocratic England to high society Delhi. India's first completely fashion-forward film. Urban India dialogues and slices of life. However, the screenplay adapts Jane Austen's characters a little too strictly when it comes to caricatures like Shefali and Randhir (but the actors manage to shine through it all), while missing out entirely on the substance in Aisha-Arjun's romance. Some scenes are nicely written, funny too (Shefali and Randhir's walk in oblivion, for example). Some do succeed in being cute: Aisha's father's pep talk, Abhay Deol's balcony climbing confession-but these are probably only because I'm a girl.

And speaking of which! I was dismayed to read Sudhish Kamath's review (that's a first, being dismayed I mean) where he said that the girls' equivalent to 'Dil Chahta Hai' had arrived, ten years late. I am sorry but montages of shopping and comfort food indulgence after heartbreak do not a female coming-of-age story make. Like I said, that's something I still have to write. Chick flick as this film is, it was as much painful for me as it was for the teenage boys I overheard in the popcorn line ("Worst. Movie. Ever"). The only part where my feminity counted for my bias (apart from the scenes mentioned) was in taking serious note of the outfits and delighting to see a different size lead actress for a change. I love Sonam Kapoor anyway, right now. So I forgive her for this movie. While we're speaking of love, let's just say that Abhay Deol brought the perfect man to life, if he isn't that already. :)

The (anti) climax scene of Aisha's confession, albeit an interesting twist, was much much funnier in 'I Hate Luv Storys'. But I don't get these movies where the lead characters hate each other or annoy each other and only later discover that they are meant to be. Does that really happen in real life beyond fifth standard?

Oh and the highlight of the movie was this bunch of Punjabi boys sitting way upfront and tossing popcorn, straws and counter dialogues throughout the movie. In the end when 'Gal teri mithi mithi' began to play, they jumped up and began to dance in the aisles. This is something I have only heard and dreamed of, never seen even in a Tamil movie, leave alone seeing Punjabi men do this in my local theatre in Chennai. They took it to the next level by jumping up on the platform in front of the screen, a row of leg kicking, arm waving silhouettes while the credits rolled. At the end of it all, they bowed to a rousing applause. They made the movie so worthwhile.

The beautiful moment was slightly ruined when the bunch remembered that they had misplaced their bike helmets.

And a sigh of relief can be breathed

Exams are done. For the moment. Okay, they were hardly exams but considering the last minute chaotic cramming that took place, their presence is not missed. Hence for that reason they have been accorded exam status. It's sad because thanks to the little studying I did, I learnt that the subjects this sem are pretty interesting and deserve more attention. Oh except for three out of six. Nevertheless, I shall study a little everyday and read up and become more worldy-wise. Let's see.
And life begins again. Not that it was much interrupted. I worked out more during exams than I do normally. I watched a movie in the theatre (review to follow shortly) after a surprisingly long gap of three weeks. I emailed a lot. I worked quite a bit. And I didn't sleep.
Which brings me back to my suddenly hectic life. I'm thoroughly enjoying the smoothly chaotic flow and the prospects of productivity it's bringing. For the first time, I'm saying yes more and postponing thinking-in the best possible sense of the term. And my recent quest for a cause seems to be fulfilled as I'm attending a social-political awareness workshop this weekend. Trepidation is normally my characteristic feeling before commiting to any single thing but this time I'm practising to STOP STRESSING ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF STRESS.
Flow and not resist.

Even small fish in small ponds have to swim fast

The past few days (and next few more) have been a flurry of activities and also thoughts about activities. I love my life like this. No time to breathe or think. But I think it's time I put sleep back on the priority list. The lack of it does me no good in Entrepreneurial Development class.

One sigh of relief can be breathed: the 'Fresher's Party' is over and successful (my definition: people participated, got entertained and were fed. Oh we were within budget! I'm not such a hopeless accountant after all). The song went fine and in the video, I don't look as clowny as I thought I did and don't sound toooo terribly awful, if I say so myself. My first duty as Class Rep is done and all thanks to improvisations and makeshift arrangements by my fellow, er, fellows. A big shout out to all 26 of you. I really love you all.

Next. Very enthusiastically, my hand shot up in the air last week for more assignments than I remember. So, tomorrow I will be doing a presentation on US dominance and Revolution in Military Affairs. And though I'm having to sort through a MOUNTAIN of information, I'm actually enjoying it. I always did like talk of power. Word of the day: psychotechnology.
As if that weren't enough, my thirst for movies doesn't abate during times of hecticness. Watched 'A Serious Man' last night. At first, my reaction was of extreme discomfort (I loved the beginning bit with the Polish couple and the dybukk) because I dislike watching central characters have their lives fall apart as they watch on helpless (personal fears about lack of assertiveness, maybe?) I began to appreciate the story's progression, the dark humour (especially the Rabbis) and just when I got hooked back into the film, the end completely repulsed me. I guess I'm still looking for the next 'Inception' (it's been less than a week; must be patient) to blow me away.
Yeah, so I'm going to see 'Udaan' today. An Anurag Kashyap production, it's earning rave reviews. Bunny wants to see it bad. And well, it's a coming of age story. But hello! All coming of age stories are about boys. The only one that I've seen featuring a female lead was 'Thirteen'. And I didn't come of age that way so erm, not so relateable. Guess I'm going to have to make my own ode to the girls of Generation X. Before we grow so old that I forget.

And also! It's Jhinker's birthday tomorrow (we're one month apart) and I have to do something special. Instead, I was highly crabby (had a sore throat and sleep deprivation) with her on the phone last night and I feel horrible about it. God, please make me a better human being. Atleast for tomorrow.

And lastly, the picture above is dedicated to all the illustrious members of the Therapy playlist on my iTunes. In particular, Bif Naked ('Rich and Filthy'), Scissor Sisters ('Take Your Mama Out'), Coldplay ('Life in Technicolour II'), The Belle Stars ('Iko Iko' from 'The Hangover' soundtrack), good old JT ('LoveStoned/I Think She Knows') and of course, Beck ('Loser' and for just being Beck).

Because you get me through. Because you make me happy.

Raavan/Raavanan: Life after expectation

Raavan and Raavanan have released and almost left the theatres. As I have mentioned earlier, I had been waiting and waiting (AND WAITING) for this epic movie to be released for numerous reasons:
1. It's a reinterpretation of the Ramayan, my preferred choice of the great Indian epic.
2. It brings to the forefront the intriguing character of Raavan, the good bad guy
3. It's about the possibility of love between Raavan and Sita (ah, forbidden love! DO NOT mention anything about Stockholm syndrome)
4. Abhishek Bachchan as a half maniacal, half brooding Raavan. Exciting. Oh yeah, and Vikram as Raavanan.
5. A. R.Rahman's music.
6. Santhosh Sivan cinematography of misty Karnataka forests and waterfalls
7. Mani Ratnam: the director

Well, I went and actually bought the audio CD and feverishly absorbed all that my eyes and ears could find of this bilingual film. I jumped at the opportunity when my equally excited cinematographer friend scored us some tickets with a big bunch going to a charity show which was a sort of public but not so public premiere. I was going to see Raavan before anybody else! (the Bachchans don't count)

I settled down in the second row from the screen, corner seat, absolutely silent, wanting to absorb this movie to my bones. I have certain movie-watching quirks. 1. I cannot miss the beginning of any movie, no matter how sad, whether it's 'White Chicks' or a Karan Johar movie. Whether I know what happens or not. If I miss a minute, I feel heartbroken. If I miss it on TV, I can't even watch it. 2. I kinda know whether I'm going to like a movie within the first minute or so.

And that's when my illusions started to dissolve, little by little. The beginning of Raavan is a montage of scenes, my favourite being the one where Abhishek Bachchan plays the dhol. Music and percussion-based folk music speaks strongly to me and I suppose this scene was meant to be indicative of Raavan's multiple facets. It was also supposed to hint at his power. But I didn't feel it, you know what I mean?

Next. 'Beera', the power song, which exalts and extols the great Beera, unique and formidable. Maybe we get to see Beera in action, the saviour of the downtrodden, the enemy to the elite? No. The song is wasted as an accompanying track to the opening credits.
The story begins too soon, too abruptly. The characters are half-sketched and their dialogue so un Mani Ratnam like, neither clever nor touching. The saddest is Govinda's character being reduced to an amusing forest officer whose purpose in the entire movie is nothing more than serving as an allusion to the actual Hanuman.

Anyway, I watched on, a little biased because it's hard to give up something you love so much.

Other sore points:
'Behene De', my former addiction came too soon and flowed away, just like its name.
Chemistry between AB Jr and his wife was hardly anything to qualify this movie for being of the romance genre.
Raavan did not come across as a powerful godfather and neither did there exist any ideological face off between him and Ram.
Ram, played by Vikram is basically a rotten guy without any redeeming features. Raavan is a psychotic, indecisive, torturing angel seeking revenge for a gory outrage but doesn't even carry it out?

Atleast one thing was that AB Jr danced well in 'Thok de Kili'. Maybe he just looks like the right Raavan with scruffy beard and long lean frame. The black shawl becomes him but the character's interpretation unfortunately does not. I feel so bad for the Abhishek of 'Guru'.

So, I was disappointed but not disgusted. My stubborn bias remained. Then, almost a month later, I saw 'Raavanan'. Much as Hindi is mostly my second language and I couldn't really follow the rural slang of the Tamil version, I was absolutely blown away.

Maybe it's because it's Mani Ratnam's first language. Maybe it was the editing that was better. But it definitely was Vikram. The man didn't act, he brought life to the two dimensional paper cutout that Raavan is reduced to at Ramlila and other occasions. Maybe he didn't portray the ten headed aspect that Raavan is meant to have but it was much easier to deal with that AB Jr's split personalities. Raavanan is a man tortured, his emotions evident but understated, his love and attraction clearly coming forth but exquisitely restrained through blunt speech. He is an unbelievable actor, absolutely lovable and cool and rugged and totally messed up in absolutely the perfect way. I'm sorry that I hadn't expected more from Raavanan. The dialogue, particularly to the end, is a lot more beautiful and poetic in Tamil.

The chemistry between Vikram and Mrs. Rai Bachchan is explosive, surprisingly. The love story is simply gorgeous but ridiculously unexplored. Maybe the whole point was to not change the story of Ramayan but to make ourselves question what could have been.

The crux of the film is the dilemna of good verus evil, the question of the grey areas. But it falls flat by describing our so called hero as outright evil and the anti hero as a sort of martyr for emotions. So, I stand, a little disappointed but a lot relieved about the fact that I was pleasantly surprised in atleast some aspects. But nevertheless, I will not cease to expect more from Mani Ratnam.

Take me, I'm your leader

Mass conspiracies are doomed to backfire. Why? The masses seldom cooperate so uniformly that the master plan comes into effect. Case in point: my unexpected election as class representative of what could be my final year in school.
The plan was thus: force the two least school spirited candidates into authority, a role that no one else wanted. This is where collaboration worked. We cheered and with a show of hands deemed our two saviours the class rep and assistant class rep. I was part of this spectacle, I must admit. I even suggested an unofficial swearing-in ceremony. This event did not take place but had it taken place, things might have been different.
Little did I realise that a reverse coup was in the formative stage. The official Union reps came around to conduct the election and our candidate for assistant class rep quietly backed out. I had ready objections in place but they were drowned out by the former regime's insistence in my capabilities. Silenced by the former president (whom I respect immensely), I prepared to engineer a little revolt. I encouraged vote manipulation around me. But nevertheless, it failed. I am thus, the new class rep.

Perhaps in my heart I still felt loyal to my old college. Protective of my identity as a graduate of the supposed # 1 college in India, protective of the seemingly less restrictive student life I enjoyed then, possessive of the 'coolest' course I could find in Madras city. I don't know. I had been feeling reluctant to let go, despite it being a year since graduation.

Today was the investiture ceremony. My new college takes these things seriously. Class reps get a badge (at my previous college, all you got was a million responsibilities such as organising major media events, loss of sleep and perhaps some clout with the heavyweight that is the Union). My co-rep and I chuckled to ourselves about our own cluelessness (we had missed the class rep orientation and quite a few other announcements) but were kindly guided to our seats and roles by the responsible others. It's going okay.

I'm not a bad class rep. I love running up and down the stairs to pass on messages. It's a welcome distraction. I always did stand up on the chair to fix the projector screen (seeing as I'm the tallest in class). I cart around equipment. I get photocopies. My own notes get photocopied. And it's not like I have to do all that much. The previous rep is incredibly helpful and so is my assistant. The profs are great. The class is supportive and I'm growing to love each one of these girls. They are so my type. Girls but so ungirly, which was one thing I'd dreaded leaving a mostly all-boys college. Most of all, this is the first time I've encountered such a large bunch of class clowns in one year.

I may not learn the words to the college song (sung every Tuesday) but I can pretend to mouth them. I still resolutely refuse to wear sari (which most proud students do at any given occasion) but I can oblige with a dupatta over my kurta and jeans. (Oh wait, scratch that. It's way too hot).I think the point of this whole unexpected duty was to create a bond between the college and I.