Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Fresh Start
This was an unusual day by my standards. First, I got up at 6 am in the morning, got ready early on, had a filling breakfast and reached office at 10. Then I went to the gym in the evening - after more than 7 months. One hour of cardio and free hands to start off was quite good. Dinner on time, work some more while listening to Rafi Sahab. Nothing much here, just a long day that was not tiring.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Web of Conflicts
Watched Spiderman 3 tonight - 3 of us, after a 3-course dinner. (I could have watched Namesake as well, since another Samarjit was there, too.) Just for the records, this was my first among the movies that come as a series these days and everyone seem to have seen them. Hence, there was no Spidey, Happy Rotter (thought of not changing the spoonerism after I wrote Happy for Harry, since somehow I am not very attracted to his antics), LOTR, Shrek prior to this one.
Coming to the point, I was not very keen on going for this movie since somehow, English movies are not something that I usually watch. But I am glad that we went. Watching one of my favourite childhood cartoon heroes in action (the other ones were The Phantom and Lothar) was indeed satisfying. The stand-out feature of the film was, undoubtedly, the visuals. It's unbelievable how real the scenes looked - as Spiderman and gang went along with their business in NY. That the story and acts were also put together very well made the film much more likeable. If someone with a penchant for techno-graphics went to watch the movie, and I guess this is what these films sell on, they would be thrilled. And if you remove the super-heroism from the proceedings and replaced them with normal human behaviour, you have a good thing on your plate as well. The way every major character has been shown in contrasting shades at some point or the other, it surely deserves credit. The ladies did not resort to conflicting personas - perhaps as a symbolic exception to the grey existence of most humans. There was no villain in the movie, which I felt was quite unique in a movie of this genre. We saw someone turning bad out of compulsion, one out of humiliation, one out of blind obedience and one (our very own Peter Parker) out of heartbreak. Finally, it was again the victory of the grey as the white (of the selfless friend) and the black (of the selfish adversery) had to meet untimely deaths.
And at the end, we are told - 'We always have a choice to do the right thing.'
Coming to the point, I was not very keen on going for this movie since somehow, English movies are not something that I usually watch. But I am glad that we went. Watching one of my favourite childhood cartoon heroes in action (the other ones were The Phantom and Lothar) was indeed satisfying. The stand-out feature of the film was, undoubtedly, the visuals. It's unbelievable how real the scenes looked - as Spiderman and gang went along with their business in NY. That the story and acts were also put together very well made the film much more likeable. If someone with a penchant for techno-graphics went to watch the movie, and I guess this is what these films sell on, they would be thrilled. And if you remove the super-heroism from the proceedings and replaced them with normal human behaviour, you have a good thing on your plate as well. The way every major character has been shown in contrasting shades at some point or the other, it surely deserves credit. The ladies did not resort to conflicting personas - perhaps as a symbolic exception to the grey existence of most humans. There was no villain in the movie, which I felt was quite unique in a movie of this genre. We saw someone turning bad out of compulsion, one out of humiliation, one out of blind obedience and one (our very own Peter Parker) out of heartbreak. Finally, it was again the victory of the grey as the white (of the selfless friend) and the black (of the selfish adversery) had to meet untimely deaths.
And at the end, we are told - 'We always have a choice to do the right thing.'
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Miles you go ... while I sleep
I just had a late-night conversation with one of my very close friends. We were in college together after tenth and - even though we started talking on a winter morning under queer circumstances - have been great friends since then, for ever. I remember during the final board examinations, I would struggle with Calculus and Organic Chemistry all night and before going to bed - puzzled, flummoxed and vain - I would wake him up so that he could start his studies. And then there was this similarity in our unwavering adherence to Rafi and good food!
So when he went to pursue medicine with a brilliant performance in the entrance (and I - looking here and there and not being able to see much beyond the newly constructed, incomplete structure near my house that I have to call my college for the rest of my life - went for engineering), our interactions became less regular. Now, if you picture two boys focussing on the next few, most crucial, years that would decide the course of their lives, then read on. The fact is - you have only got half the picture. Because, one of them would go on whiling away time like no one did in a while. (Not that he repents, but that is more to prove that some people never learn.)
Talking to him, at a time when I am at my reflective best, really brought back some very fond memories. He has always been there, even at times when - after a of belt-loosening eating frenzy in our favourite roadside restaurant - I would pause by the nearest sweet-shop on the way to the bus stand.
I remember when I was very young, one winter morning my mother dragged me by my hand out of the bed and straight to the bathroom. She had but an option to do that, it was 8:45 and school started at 9:30. And when she happened to pass by after sometime, she found me lying there, curled up on the doormat. :D
This was not to digress from the what I was talking about in this post. I just mentioned it in passing - as a sample of what I am capable of when I am asleep. And, my best achievement was at this friend's home. This was about 2 years back. Three of us spent the day at his place - where he stays alone. In the evening, when the other friend was gone, my friend had to go out for some work and I stayed back. With nothing much to do, I took to the pages of a book on medicine and in no time knew of its sedative properties. So, within 5 minutes of his leaving, there was a breathing log on his bed. I woke up to his vigourous shaking, and opened my eyes to a very worried person. His face had anxiety, relief and anger written all at once.
As I came into the situation, I understood what made him the way he looked. When he returned after half an hour and got no answer to the bells, he called me on my mobile (which was lying by the pillow I clung to like a drowning man with a buoy). When that did not work, he started calling my name at the top of his voice. He was really worried when this went on for about 15 minutes and there was no answer from inside his own house. After having no other go, he - with the help of the watchman - broke the lock at the grills and came in; pretty sure I was murdered. Only when he saw me did he realise that this death was rather temporary.
These memories make me feel great and forces me to believe that there is nothing that I cannot do. If I could spend all these years being the way I am, I can surely carry on till the day I bid these memories goodbye.
So when he went to pursue medicine with a brilliant performance in the entrance (and I - looking here and there and not being able to see much beyond the newly constructed, incomplete structure near my house that I have to call my college for the rest of my life - went for engineering), our interactions became less regular. Now, if you picture two boys focussing on the next few, most crucial, years that would decide the course of their lives, then read on. The fact is - you have only got half the picture. Because, one of them would go on whiling away time like no one did in a while. (Not that he repents, but that is more to prove that some people never learn.)
Talking to him, at a time when I am at my reflective best, really brought back some very fond memories. He has always been there, even at times when - after a of belt-loosening eating frenzy in our favourite roadside restaurant - I would pause by the nearest sweet-shop on the way to the bus stand.
I remember when I was very young, one winter morning my mother dragged me by my hand out of the bed and straight to the bathroom. She had but an option to do that, it was 8:45 and school started at 9:30. And when she happened to pass by after sometime, she found me lying there, curled up on the doormat. :D
This was not to digress from the what I was talking about in this post. I just mentioned it in passing - as a sample of what I am capable of when I am asleep. And, my best achievement was at this friend's home. This was about 2 years back. Three of us spent the day at his place - where he stays alone. In the evening, when the other friend was gone, my friend had to go out for some work and I stayed back. With nothing much to do, I took to the pages of a book on medicine and in no time knew of its sedative properties. So, within 5 minutes of his leaving, there was a breathing log on his bed. I woke up to his vigourous shaking, and opened my eyes to a very worried person. His face had anxiety, relief and anger written all at once.
As I came into the situation, I understood what made him the way he looked. When he returned after half an hour and got no answer to the bells, he called me on my mobile (which was lying by the pillow I clung to like a drowning man with a buoy). When that did not work, he started calling my name at the top of his voice. He was really worried when this went on for about 15 minutes and there was no answer from inside his own house. After having no other go, he - with the help of the watchman - broke the lock at the grills and came in; pretty sure I was murdered. Only when he saw me did he realise that this death was rather temporary.
These memories make me feel great and forces me to believe that there is nothing that I cannot do. If I could spend all these years being the way I am, I can surely carry on till the day I bid these memories goodbye.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
30/1 (No, it's not the score)
Take two snooker balls and make a bigger one out of them. Now that you have got the size in your mind, that was the size of the cauliflower I bought yesterday. But I could not believe it when I was told that it cost 30 rupees. What is the country coming to? Despite the off-season, I could not believe it could have been more than 10. Or is it the city, because not very long back, I used to hear cries saying we can have two of them for 5 rupees in peak season, and they used to be double the size of what I had in my hand yesterday.
Living in the southern cities - Bangalore, Chennai and now Hyderabad - I realised that the cost of fruits in this part of the country was abysmally bad. And now, I would say the same for vegetables as well. I remember, during the peak mango season last year, someone commanded Rs. 35 for a single piece! I had a strange feeling on hearing this audacious announcement, a feeling that could potentially lead me to touching his feet or smashing his head. In a spectacular display of patience and calm, I smiled at him and returned. I did not go near a mango that year. Time, as usual, has been a great healer and now - even though I do not usually buy them - an apple at Rs. 25 or an orange at 15 does not shake my heart to convulsions. Images of my dad bringing home baskets of the most delicious Himsagar mangoes flash back in my mind, and the miles to Calcutta multiply manifold.
I am feeling a bit dehydrated since yesterday. And whenever I am telling people why I did not go to office, I am feeling more sick. Because the unanimous verdict is - 'Have lots of fruits and juices!'
Living in the southern cities - Bangalore, Chennai and now Hyderabad - I realised that the cost of fruits in this part of the country was abysmally bad. And now, I would say the same for vegetables as well. I remember, during the peak mango season last year, someone commanded Rs. 35 for a single piece! I had a strange feeling on hearing this audacious announcement, a feeling that could potentially lead me to touching his feet or smashing his head. In a spectacular display of patience and calm, I smiled at him and returned. I did not go near a mango that year. Time, as usual, has been a great healer and now - even though I do not usually buy them - an apple at Rs. 25 or an orange at 15 does not shake my heart to convulsions. Images of my dad bringing home baskets of the most delicious Himsagar mangoes flash back in my mind, and the miles to Calcutta multiply manifold.
I am feeling a bit dehydrated since yesterday. And whenever I am telling people why I did not go to office, I am feeling more sick. Because the unanimous verdict is - 'Have lots of fruits and juices!'
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