The 10th BYOFF, Puri, Odisha

I participated in the recently concluded BYOFF’s (Bring Your Own Film Fest) 10^th edition held at The Pink House, CT Road, Puri, Odisha from February 21 to February 25, 2013.

Sun, sand, and cinema. It proved to be a perfect setting to watch a lot of films by truly independent filmmakers.

Organized by Gurpal Singh and others, it is a fest not to be missed. Primarily, for the kind of films you get to watch, the people you meet there, the food (especially, seafood), and for the ambience all of this creates.

Every evening, the cool sea breeze wafted through while you were watching films and the moon made its daily sojourn through the shamiana sky.

Loved meeting fellow filmmakers and film lovers like Anamitra, Sriparna, Twish, Sayak Shome, Sounak, Joohi, Sourav, et al. We had amazing conversations and discussions over drinks and dinner.

The best films that were screened were:

• Parallels, Almost
• Paperbag
• Nothing Unusual
• This is not Funny – (and this is not in 3D)
• Jaadui Machchi

Also, loved the following documentaries:

• Char – No Man’s Island
• Quarter No. 4/11

There was an open stage every day and I was impressed by the talent that was on display. Vipin Heero (songwriter, singer, and composer) sang amazingly ‘native’ and original songs along with Kabir’s songs. This guy is a talent to watch out for.

Most of the film enthusiasts, including yours truly, pledged to pay whatever they can to tide over the current and last years’ fest expenses.

So I hope that I shall be there again next year too! Bhadaas dho!

On the Road

This is a movie (based on Jack Kerouac’s novel by the same name) that should be seen and enjoyed within its context and period. The Beat generation was defined by Salinger, Burroughs, Ginsberg, and Jack Kerouac.

I admit that except for A Catcher in the Rye, I have not read any other Beat literature but the film On the Road directed by Walter Selles (The Motorcycle Diaries) compels me.

Angst, non-conformity, search for meaning, jazz, music, sex, drug use, communism et al defined the Beat generation of the 50s and so did the cold war. And its politics.

Jack Kerouac (the man who coined the term ‘Beat Generation’; doesn’t he deserve the Nobel Prize for that?) took multiple road trips with his free-spirited, hedonistic friend, Neal Cassady (played to perfection by Sam Riley and Garrett Hedlund, respectively). The movie is autobiographical; he started writing and rewriting from 1948 through 1951/52, I guess. Finally, it was published in 1957.

The film was filmed in 2010 and released in 2012 but retains the period look. And what a period it was: Blissful, upbeat, beatific, and beaten up.

It makes you ponder how much of anything is enough… Everything comes at a price. And free will and choice(s)… Does that make your life richer?

Like the film shows: The best teacher is experience.

Ozhimuri (A Document of Separation)

An Excellent work. One of the best Malayalam movies to come out after the world said Y2K and forgot that more than a decade has passed by since.

Jeyamohan and Madhupal, take a bow. When is your next film releasing?

Ozhimuri is also about separation. Of matriarchal and patriarchal systems. Of transitions and transformations. Of systems, processes, procedures, and people. Of mundane and bitter-sweet lives lived among all these.

It also raises valid observations and questions on the age-old theory of Nature vs. Nurture. How your personality maybe defined by nurture but your behavior patterns maybe defined by nature…

Childhood, upbringing, selective memories all work together to create a child’s world and his memories of parents and parenting. Judgments are based on our biases and inclinations towards either one of our parents…

Why do certain people act cruelly with their loved ones? 

This movie does not give us definite answers but surely provides a lot of food for thought. The movie does not judge any of its characters and therein lies its greatest strength. It shows pretty artistically and realistically how most of us are formed by circumstances and other external factors. How we hardly choose who or what we become and how we behave. But in spite of all that, love can always find a way to our hearts though we may hardly know how to express it.

It poetically shows how empathy is of extreme importance when it comes to any relationship; how you may never be able to forgive and/or forget your parents, spouse, children and their deeds but you can surely empathize with them. And empathy comes only with understanding and openness. Comes with acceptance that your memory, vision, judgment, stereotyping, labeling et al are limited in scope. There is always some knowledge or some information that you may have missed… while you label a person ever so consciously/subconsciously.

It shows us how lifelong-held values and egos do not matter when death stares at us closely. How forgiveness and self-defense mechanisms find their way in our search for self-identity and that elusive treasure: peace of mind.

Watch it for its outstanding performances (Lal and Shweta Menon deserve special mentions) and its brilliant screenplay; also, watch yourself while you are at it.

Yeah, and do not judge the person, sitting at the aisle seat, dozing away to glory. Or, the person who proclaims that Ozhimuri was such a bore… Remember, they may have their reasons. Sometimes, reasons that they themselves are not aware of.

Ozhimuri makes you come out wiser and, more importantly, nicer by the end of the film. At least, it does try. 

It did. For me.

Baran

Baran (Persian for 'rain') is an amazing piece of film-making by the Iranian master, Majid Majidi. 

He takes realism to an altogether different level here: a construction site close to the Afghanistan border in Iran is the primary setting for one of the most silent and short love stories on film.

The 17-year-old male lead discovers love and himself in this poignant tale which is poetry on celluloid. The female lead never utters a single word throughout the movie and speaks volumes through her glances and her eyes. You can hear her humming some times; behind veiled and curtained doors.

This bitter-sweet, coming-of-age movie is also about separation of two lovers who could have led a life together if it weren't for politics, organized religion, and borders.

You must watch this movie, if you have ever loved. And lost. Or, if you are a romantic activist.

There are a couple of scenes that will surely take your breath away: one is a conversation with a shoemaker and another is a silent scene just before Baran leaves Iran for her home back in Afghanistan.

Baran’s fleeting and almost invisible smile says it all. It kind of sums up the whole film in one scene.

Anyways, at the end of it all, a footprint is all that is left behind of people, of dreams, and of loves. 

Such is life... Always.

The Sessions

This is the kind of movie experience that I live for. I die for.

The Sessions is an independent drama film written and directed by Ben Lewin. It is based on an essay by Mark O'Brien, a poet paralyzed from the neck down due to polio who hired a sex surrogate to lose his virginity. John Hawkes and Helen Hunt star as O'Brien and sex surrogate Cheryl Cohen-Greene, respectively.

Sex can heal. It can bond. It can bring two people closer than anybody's imagination. And, sharing sex secrets with a third person (who was a stranger, in the beginning, and also a priest) can make him your best friend.

Ok, agreed that there was ‘a special needs’ person involved in the above situations but still the above statements are true. 

As Mark says in the movie, sex is serious. Mark also says: “I believe in a God with a sense of humor. I would find it absolutely intolerable not to be to able blame someone for all this.”

The humor and wit in the movie may remind you of Inside I’m Dancing. I digress but, in case, you haven’t watched that movie yet, please do!

Helen Hunt just sweeps you off your feet as an actress; her range is incomparable. This movie makes me reconfirm my belief of her being the best actress ever... Over any other actress of any decade across world cinema; yes, that includes everybody’s favorite (including the Oscar’s), Meryl Streep. 

This is a bold and brave role to take on; she has delivered more than another established actress would. I am not saying bold and brave because it includes nudity or sex, but because this is the kind of role that required her to live under the skin of her character and she went more than skin deep.

John Hawkes just makes you believe that he’s Mark O’Brien himself; so flawless is his performance. The importance of sexual intimacy between two people and the importance of being kind in a relationship is highlighted so well that it welled up my eyes. 

Just like Tukaram, The Sessions was a healing experience for me.

Yes, this movie is based on a true story… Please do read:
An article on Cheryl Cohen-Greene

An article on Mark O'Brien


And yes, for a detailed movie review, please visit:
Roger Ebert's review

A Separation

What an experience.

Asghar Farhadi’s Iranian masterpiece, A Separation, is the kind of movie that makes you think long after the end credits roll up. No, not think but rather reflect upon yourselves and people close to you and those incidents and revelations when you see everybody’s true nature.

This film portrays righteousness as a value to fight for. But it begs us to ask whether the fight is worth it? Should compromise be a better solution for incidents where we don’t know the truth or only know partial/half truths?

The film starts with a simple scene that establishes the two main characters much better than other films have established in their entire lengths. They are both arrogant, stubborn, and have reached a place in life where compromise seems like a loss.

The son-father-husband and the mother-wife protagonists have to deal with an incident that happens just after they are separated. Also, there are three children who are immediately affected by the incident.

The film shows that goodness, kindness, honesty, selflessness, family, ego, and self-righteousness are different things and these values change with situations and circumstances. Sometimes these values change in front of a judge (whether human or God… because we are afraid and god-fearing). In face of a life-changing situation, some people compromise and control themselves while some people can’t. How all this further affects the future for all characters involved is captured brilliantly.

Causality... Can we really point out the cause of an effect? Do we really know the truth? Can we? Can we claim that we are right and others are wrong?

The movie really asks us for answers to these questions and more. And, just like the movie ends, I too am waiting for my answers to mull over and regurgitate again and again.

A Teaser

Zara: I love the colour red. One fine night, it was cold; the moon was glowing red. I am alone. Far, far away, a wolf howled. A blood curdling cry. I saw blood oozing out of my belly. 

Was it mine?

Anjan: I love my wife. One fine day, I came home from work early. I opened my house door. A familiar, masculine fragrance emanated from our bedroom. I followed it to its source. I saw her in bed with a stranger. 

Or, was he?

Siddarth: I love my car. One fine moment, I lost my control and swerved off the road to hit a truck... That moment killed my two friends who were in the back seat. My friends were just corpses. I was the lone survivor. 

Why me?

Reflections: An unwilled 'Thought Process' Experiment

• Why do I judge others when I myself am human?
• Have I not been mean before?
• Have I not been rude? Angry at others because they are what they are?
• Why do I put somebody on a pedestal without knowing them fully in the first place? And, when they kind of fall from those heights, why do I feel hurt?
• Is it necessary that all disciples be like their masters just because they have sat at his feet?
• Why did I confuse certain facts with knowledge and truth?
• Why do I get angry when people break into my false sense of belongingness?
• Why do I get angry at others for their bloated egos when I can’t kick out my ego that peeps through my bloated sense of self-righteousness?
• When will I accept people as they are without being angry and irritated? When will I know that the solution includes me and my acceptance and not my indifference?
• When do I fully become a witness?

The thoughts/reflections ended with that final question. There was a 15-minute blankness after this question. A void. I came out of the void and here is the post...

Well, today morning, there was a small discussion over an insignificant event at home. As a consequence, much later in the afternoon, these reflections/thoughts entered my mind. I just penned them down here as they came without giving each thought any tangent or refuge.

I guess, this ‘seamless thought process’ that occurred on it own (without my volition) was an experiment on my long way home to becoming a witness.

When you are truly realized, you realize how much of life was lost in finding faults of others. – SN Goenka

Flight (My title: Flight of the Phoenix)

This is the second film in 2013 that I watched that deals with addiction as its core subject; this time it is alcohol and drugs.

Is alcoholism or drug abuse an issue even if you are a hero? A successful and resourceful hero, at that?

Denzel Washington probably comes up with one of his best performances in this movie that has a lot going for it. As a person who has seen up close what addiction can do to people, I could sympathize with him. He is an exemplary pilot/captain of a commercial airline. One of the best ever… the movie tells us. And also shows us.

The opening flight and landing scene is riveting and is certain to bring you to the edge of your seat. Thereafter, it is complete drama. About a person’s notion and cure for his own addiction, how he is confident that he can lead his life well even if he is drunk or high. How he can discharge his duties and responsibilities at work (even a high profile and high risk job of a pilot) even if he has had more alcohol and cocaine than an average teen…

Denzel Washington plays arrogance and self-defiance very well. Like you really feel like slapping him. But then, you understand that he knows he is addicted but in control! That is the crux. He does not crumble, is not indecisive or slurrish, has presence of mind, etc.

His wife and son had left him long ago. He has no friends. He is alone.

In the hospital after the crash, where he has saved 100 lives or killed six people (whichever way you want to look at it), he makes his first real friend: a woman who’s a drug abuser. They share similar pains. They share a painful past.

The woman rehabilitates but he can’t. He is so much into it that it is like making love, breathing or drinking water. How many days can you abstain from these?

Finally, he gets redemption at a FAA hearing where he confesses (even though it has already been proved that faulty maintenance of an elevator is to be blamed for the flight crash) to have been drunk and high for three consecutive days and nights leading up to the eventful flight.

For the first time, he confesses to himself that his habit is a problem for himself and for others around him even though he has never harmed anybody even when drunk or high. For the first time, he admitted that he had a behavioral problem. Accepting one’s own weaknesses makes you stronger.

A hero who saved 100 lives does not fall. That is the day, he rises.

This is a much, much better film than Spirit, starring Mohanlal, dealing with the same subject.

Shame, 360, and Safety Not Guaranteed

Shame is a modern-day classic. One of the bravest films I have ever seen because of the subject it shows: sex addiction. Richard Fassbender (Brandon) is really brave to take on this role of a lifetime.

The film just shows us the life of a sex addict, who has an independent apartment and a good job because he is able to pay for regular sex. He knows that he is an addict and how he uses sex to abuse himself. He knows that there is no way out than indulge. He does not seek pleasure for having sex has become a necessity like eating bread daily. Just plain bread.

We see a change in his attitude when his only sister Carrey Mulligan (Sissy) visits him and stays over for a few days. She is a vagabond singer who takes up gigs. We learn that she recently had a breakup from her boyfriend. In the first scene of their interaction, we come to know that there are past bridges between the two siblings that were not healthy. Probably, they had incestuous parents and/or they themselves had an incestuous relationship.

We see how they are still redeeming themselves from their past in opposite ways: Sissy clings to him for love, attachment, proximity while he detests all emotions. He can’t emote love, he can’t make love, he can only have sex. In fact, we see how Brandon guards his secret sex life even from his boss, who has casual sex or is looking for it every time he goes out with Brandon.

The independent and individual close-up shots of the Brandon (towards the end when he is having a threesome) and Sissy (when she is singing) show their caliber. Brandon is incapable of an orgasm; he just ejaculates. We see one of the best master shots/close-ups when we see him ejaculating with fear, pain, loathe…

The movie does not preach, does not deliver hope, cure, or a solution… but we do.

To read a better review of this movie, please visit: Roger Ebert's website.

360 is the kind of slice-of-life film that seamlessly showcases lives of different characters across the globe. All the characters are either in love, falling in love, or falling out of love. They are all dealing with loss, separation, and identity crises in one way or another.

The screenplay and cinematography come out winners in this one; Anthony Hopkins shines in an amazing monologue he delivers at a group therapy session. 

Yes, I loved 360.

Safety Not Guaranteed is an unpretentious film; it knows that it is a small-budget, realistic movie about an event that may or may not happen/have happened!

Just like all the characters in the film, we too are clinging to the past in more ways than one. Somebody is clinging to nostalgia, somebody to youth, and somebody to the loss of a dear one.

Among all this, we see an eccentric, departmental store clerk releasing a classified ad seeking a partner to accompany him in time travel to the past.

The classified ad:

“WANTED: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. You'll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. I have only done this once before. SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED.”

This is where the movie starts having fun with us. I loved the film and will watch it again. J

Dance

Today evening, while lazing in the cold waters of the swimming pool at my bro’s place after few consecutive laps, I saw what I thought was art: a jet trail high above in azure skies, an eagle gliding and circling right below the trail, a small cirrus cloud hovering near the jet trail, seven coconut trees swaying in the breeze, and to complete this picture, a praying mantis awaiting its next meal by the pool side.

A still-life painting… of Life presented itself to my feasting eyes in a glance. A moment across time and space. I thought it would have been great, if Gopu was here to photograph this scene…

Meanwhile, before the previous thought could make its way out of my mind, another one played itself on the screen:

• I am not a painter or sculptor.
• You are my dance; I am the dancer.
• What you see is me in creative motion; I do not exist separately from my creation.

Contented, I dipped into the cold water once again for my dance to continue.

Arunachala, a most silent muse

The mystic mountain is at works as always. 

Five months since i started dwelling near its visible shadow, unknowingly it has been silently seeing me in motion from afar... It peeps into my humble abode. On both full moon and new moon nights alike, it pours love into my overflowing heart. 

It is by far my most silent muse; the others chat or chatter. Over facebook, over email, in personal conversations, or in my imagination. 

It knows that my memories still rise and heave with deep sighs between mammaries where I had snuggled, nestled, laughed, and cried in the past. 

It knows all my intricacies, my 'what ifs', my unasked questions, and its unanswered answers. 

Sometimes, when the power goes off and the world is silent and sleepy, i hear His whispered words along with the soothing breeze and a mosquito's hum: Om shanti... shanti... shanti hii.

Raining muses

It's raining this winter; and it is not raining cats and dogs. It is not just another drizzle. 

This season, it's raining muses! 

Is this yet another seasonal shower?

Your Self

Whatever is done should be done not for yourself, but for your Self.

Whatever you want

i can be whatever you want me to be... for all relationships are nothing, but labels put by minds unable to understand them.

Diamond Necklace

His wicked smile. His guilt-ridden look. His infectious energy maybe fueled from years of subdued life with his mother in Kerala. These stay with me as a reflection of a part of me that was once me.

Theft, betrayal, guilt, fear, embarrassment, friendship, love, longing, acceptance, and confession are portrayed pretty well. And temptation… well, don’t we know that very well?!

Fahaad Fazil has given good montages and reactions in this film: Diamond Necklace. A movie that grows with repeated viewing; my interpretations adding up to make it better than intended, perhaps.

And in to this ‘happening’ life of Dr. Arun in Dubai, three women enter one by one. Pretty uninvited but without resistance too…

First, he falls in love with a charming, innocent village girl (working as a nurse) and takes her to bed. She is falling in love for the first time; he does not give it much thought.

He goes through life with all its motions. He is in debt: bad debt. He marries one of the girls thinking that that will end his financial worries and hoping that at least his mother will be happy. But life is not about solutions and borrowed happiness alone, as he discovers.

His heart falls for another woman, an interior designer. I think she is what he was looking for but by then he is married. But he loves her and so does she. They make love.

Even when loved truly by three women, he has no choice. Or so it seems.

After this what happens is… Few twists and turns but life takes care of everything.

Venu ettan, the quintessential Malayalee in the Gulf, helps him out. For Dr. Arun, life comes full circle.

He is just a pawn and dances according to strings being pulled by circumstances. Maybe, there is free will; maybe, not.

But do we control our 'free' will? Can we?

Anyways, in the end, we see:

• A simple village girl can make a big difference.
• A sinner can inspire a saint.
• A married woman can choose love over diamond.

Yes, these things happen.

Usthad Hotel and Adaminte Makan Abu

Ever watched a Zen movie? Apart from The Last Samurai or Seven Days in Tibet, etc.?

Usthad Hotel is a very contemporary Zen movie. The movie is a coming-of-age film wherein the lead actor finds his true calling and pursues it practically. He finds help and support from unexpected quarters. He receives his training, initiation, and instructions from his own grandfather, who is a chef and runs a small but popular seaside restaurant.

Thilakan, who plays the grandfather’s role, like only he can, has given one of his finest performances in years in a highly restrained role. His voice modulation is apt and so is his dialogue delivery. The way he mouths a dialogue while sipping sulaimani is worth watching the movie for.  

He trains his grandson, hands over the restaurant to him (his only legacy), and leaves on a final pilgrimage to Moinuddin Chisti’s dargah in Ajmer. Much earlier in the movie, he had talked about watching rainfall in a desert…

The cinematography and photography are top-notch. It reminds me of another recent classic: Adaminte Makan Abu. A simple story of a Muslim couple and their lifelong wish of going to Hajj. The film shows the struggles and travails they go through to fulfill their wish. How honesty and principles come in the way of fulfilling their dream makes your heart weep. Well, do they manage to fulfill their wish at the end of the movie?

“Do they need to go to Hajj?”… For me, that was the question answered by the end of the movie. 

Thanks, AMMA

The last half of this year has been a jolly good ride.

Chandrabadni is where your silence is loud and your soul will find a sound. It was here that it echoed: "Gar Firdaus rōy-e zamin ast, hamin ast-o hamin ast-o hamin ast."

After a pilgrimage to Haridwar, Hrishikesh, Chandrabadni, Triyuginarayan, Kedarnath, Badrinath, Hemkunt Sahib, Joshimatt, and Vaishno Devi, it was time for a pilgrimage from Devbhoomi to God’s Own Country.

Visiting the ever crowded Guruvayur temple to the serene Triprayar to the magnificent Koodalmanickam to the imposing Padmanabha temple was a blessing. Near the Padmanabha temple, we also visited an ancient temple home to the trinity: Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. 

This temple reminded me of Kailashnatha temple, Kancheepuram. Yes, for a moment, I did miss her. But then, I smiled at His leela.

Well, the highlight of this pilgrimage was meeting my 50-year-old cousin from Singapore who had joined us for this pilgrimage along with her mother. Before I forget, her mother has an amazing sense of humour!

We were meeting each other for the first time. So after the usual pleasantries, we started opening our flood gates. We talked, debated, discussed, and read… Osho, Matruvani, Ramana… et al. Day in and day out, we were exchanging notes, observations, and animatedly pointing to statues and carvings on some temple walls.

Finally, we decided to be ‘inmates’ at AMMA’s Ashram, Vallikavu, Kollam. Also, known as Amritapuri. This ashram is an experience by itself. For me, it’s just different from any other ashram I had ever been to or stayed at. You must visit this ashram at least once before you die. Better to visit the place when AMMA is not around because it is quieter and more peaceful. Plus, from what I observed, people are more open to talk to you. They are less busy.

Both of us talked to a lot of ashram inmates serving out life sentences completely out of love, utter devotion, and maybe in blind faith! ;-) They had a lot to say about AMMA and her leela. Her mysterious ways and her projects. It was nice meeting Sindhu, Srija, the French-bearded man in the garment store, and the beautiful coffee-makers in the Western cafe. What a way to begin your day… sipping smoking, hot coffee.

We witnessed a sunrise, a sunset, and a quite walk to the beach, and a guided tour through Amritapuri campus. Well, including the ‘Where is the beach and where is the kayal?’ joke, it was a good communion between souls.

AMMA, thanks for the three days spent there; I guess, we needed it and you being in Europe was like icing on the cake. J And frankly, la… the sharjah shake served at your ashram is awesome too.

Om Puurnnam-Adah Puurnnam-Idam Puurnnaat-Purnnam-Udacyate

Puurnnashya Puurnnam-Aadaaya Puurnnam-Eva-Avashissyate ||

Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaantih ||

(500) Days of Summer

There are two types of movies that stand out from among the many types of movies made and watched: 

1. A movie that is so complete that you should watch it only once; repeated viewing may spoil the experience.
2. A movie that grows on you every time you watch it. Repeated viewing reveals a bit of your own self. (500) Days of Summer belongs to the latter category.  

Yesterday, I watched it for the second time. It’s awesome how you live/relive multiple lifetimes while watching certain movies.

 

The first time I had watched it, I was rooting for Tom.

I could relate to him. It was like random incidents from my love lives being played out in front of me and I was all out supporting Tom. I wanted him to be happy even though the movie hinted otherwise. I was disappointed with Summer not being able to love Tom the way he loved her.
 
I got angrier when Summer finally marries another guy when she adopts Tom’s belief in soul mates, love, and fate. She reveals this to Tom while they are sitting in Tom’s favorite spot in the city. Tom says that he can never understand how she can feel something for another guy which she never felt for him! Even I couldn’t.

 

Yesterday, I felt miserable for Tom.

I could see the other side.

Though most of the movie is shown from Tom’s perspective, a balanced viewer can see Summer’s side too. There is even a scene where the screen is split into to two: one showing Tom’s expectations and the other showing reality!

Summer always looked upon Tom as her best friend with whom she can share anything: secrets, time, sex, window shopping, etc. Acts and activities that Tom misunderstood as intimacy, romance, and love. There are plenty of scenes where Tom’s friends and sister tries to show him the truth and reality and he just refuses to believe that Summer does not love him. He roots for his stupid belief that because he loves her so much and so consummately, there is no way that she does not love him back! Most of us have been there and done that, right?

I saw Summer as a free-thinking, independent, and fun-loving girl who lives life in the present moment and does whatever she feels. Summer was always honest with him and, in the beginning of their relationship, had already revealed to him that she does not believe in love and she was looking for a casual relationship. Her relationships were not bound by generic labels and boundaries put down by the majority. For example, for her being friends with Tom also included having quality and experimental sex with him. But she never lied to him.

The movie also shows that once you set up a premise, a background… you can tell a story in a non-linear sequence because life and memory is a string of events, which may not necessarily move along with passage of time and space. Events in life may not have a cause-and-effect relationship. Memories may not be stored sequentially.

If you were in love, (500) Days of Summer is a must-watch. And then, please watch it again and again.

Tukaram

Tuka manhe! A very simple saying from a very simple man. His life, his village, Dehu, and its villagers.

In the movie, Tukaram, not only do we get a glimpse of the life and times of Tukaram, one of most revered saints of India, but also of Tukaram, the man, the husband, the brother, the child, the son, the trader et al.

Just like Lord Ram had to undergo all that an average human being undergoes in life when he/she dons several roles, Tuka too underwent a lot: education, apprenticeship, marriage, famine, hardships, pilgrimages, separation, death of loved ones and one of his beloved.

The movie does not portray Tukaram as a saint nor do we see a halo behind him. But we love him anyway.

His moment of enlightenment during a drought has been captured very simply and brilliantly. Brought tears to my eyes. Watching Tukaram made me cry many times.

I needed that.

First, the man drowns his materialistic wealth into the Indrayani river; later, the saint drowns his spiritual wealth (all his abhangs and kirtans) into the river. He becomes silent. He did not need words anymore; his words are etched in the hearts of those blessed to be in his presence.

The movie lifted itself from being an art form to being an experience. Very few movies have succeeded at this level.

After a long time, I felt cleansed after watching a movie.

The Dirty Picture

The Dirty Picture is a very, very fine picture. 
Take a bow, Vidya Balan.

Sigh

The sunlight crept in and was trying to peep inside his bedroom. It was just another dawn of just another day.

Suddenly, his cell rang. He answered it. It was her call. She was calling him after what seemed like a long, long time to him.

She said, “I am sorry. Do you still love me?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied.

He could hear a sigh of relief there and here. Then they started talking…

Now, everything is back to normal. They are together again: across the 1,000 miles that separate them, across the time that divided them. They talked about the temple, about their daughter, about their future ahead… just like old times.

Then he woke up. Felt sad and sat up cold like a stone. Alas, it was an early morning dream… Today morning, he dreamt of her.

Sigh. A thousand and eight sighs.

This too shall pass.

The salt-pans are not visible anymore; they have given way to high rises. The yellow whistling flowers are not to be seen anymore; a BP petrol station came up few years ago where they once had flowered.

Vasai has changed; is changing. Better and wider roads came hand-in-hand with rising real estate costs. Basic infrastructure woes had reduced with every passing year: water supply and electricity improved. I did not get to see any hand pumps where they once stood in limelight as people, especially women and children rushed to fill their daily quota of potable water.

St. Augustine’s High was getting higher and the Ayyappa temple grander.

The horizon and skyline, as seen from Vasant Nagri, changed. The Giriz hill was not the only structure that stood between the railway line and the setting sun; there were newer buildings that were being built on lands that once were salt pans. The picture postcard sunset and its changing hues on the hill can’t be viewed anymore. Nor can the Sun be seen playing hide-and-seek behind the hill during its annual Uttarayan and Dakshinayan journeys.

Vasai is in the process of becoming the next Bandra; the next 'queen of the suburbs'. Because just like Bandra, Vasai too has still retained its idyllic charm and rustic life that will rapture you when you travel towards Vasai Gaon, or its beaches, or the fort.

This weekend may have been one of those nostalgic, sepia-toned trips to Vasai… and I would be dishonest if I say that during my two-day stay there, my eyes hadn’t welled up. 

It was only while driving back to Pune that this dawned – our Vasai house has been sold. Ani, our house, which was like a crevice where our bittersweet memories found a common hiding place all these years, is sold. Ani, avarka okha avarde kaash, avarde kanakh… nammalku nammalde nostalgia!

Sob, sniff, sob.

Though I no more have a house to call my own there, Vasai will always be a home. For home is where the heart is, right? :-)

Brahman and i?

Sarvam khalvidam idham Brahman.

Brahman:

• Is it the primordial intelligence that exists within all of us?
• Is it the communication that occurs between subatomic and atomic particles across physical distances?
• Is it the spaces between matter? Is it the dark energy or anti-matter that exists between ‘things’ that make up matter?
• Is it the cosmic play between matter and space and time?
• Is it Mathematics: “If you subtract the infinite from the infinite, what remains is the infinite?”
• Is it what makes us seek?
• Is it the ‘ocean of milk’ in which Narayana was sleeping on Anantha Sesha/ Adi Sesha? Is it the awakening of Narayana and the simultaneous occurrence of Brahma’s birth? Is it Brahma asking: “Who am I?” and the consequent manifestation of the Goddess?
• Is it adwaitham (One-Without-A-Second)?
• Is it the similarity between: I am the way, and the truth, and the life (John 14:6); Ana al Haq; and Tat Tvam Asi?

La Ilaha Illallah.

Let it be

Let it churn, let it churn, let it churn…
For then we shall get treasures and poisons; answers and questions.

Till then, let it churn, let it churn...

Till I am tired of fighting, till it is time to sleep.
Till then, let it churn, let it churn.

7 Khoon Maaf

This is one movie that holds promise. It says that there is still hope and redemption for us sinners (rather, the sinners inside us).

The movie is a very dark and sometimes funny portrayal of a woman seeking for God in ordinary men (in this case, for the Son of God in ordinary men). Maybe, it’s trying to make a valid point here by revealing the biggest fallacy of lovers: searching for God in our beloved…

In our search for the eternal, the everlasting, and the unattainable, we commit our biggest sins; our biggest mistakes (knowingly?). Our motive is so high, so sacred, and so lofty that we don’t stop at committing any sin no matter how beautiful or brutal.

The six men (in the movie) could hardly hold a candle to the Son of God. But did they deserve to be killed? Did she have a choice (to kill or not to kill)? Maybe, she did not have a choice. As one of her accomplices narrates a short, chilling fable, which explains why she would kill than change her path or search…

Many shots in the movie are dark and brooding, which leave haunting images. Suzanne Anna is one of the best performances in Indian cinema. She was so true to her nature… so honest… so gullible…

When the end credits rolled, the elusive answer dawned… there is a damn good reason for the movie to be titled 7 Khoon Maaf (roughly translates to 7 Murders Forgiven).

The woman was stronger than the six men she thought she loved, except the seventh. For He too had committed 'her' sin for her sake before she was born…

My love is like a red, red moon...

Today, was one of those twilights when the moon was looming over us near the horizon: big and brick red...

For a moment, I stopped my bike at the roadside and stared at the most beautiful object in the sky. And then, I remembered all the previous full moons I had seen in different cities across different landscapes and skylines (The city surely lends or projects its own color and character onto the moon.).

You and I see the same moon no matter where we are and how much you may have forgotten me or the full moon that we saw.

I know, this sounds just like an old, romantic cliche. But is it just that?

Koans from the Self

Can 'I' think?

Where does mu come from?

What is maya?

Energy appearing as a particle is maya; it behaving as a wave is also maya.

Dhobi Ghat (Mumbai Diaries)

This is a movie that says a lot without talking much. The movie captures Mumbai, its people, their lives, and its collective spirit just like two of its lead characters do.

The artist, Arun, and the documentary filmmaker, Shai, are the observers. Both are shameless voyeurs, which help them produce great works of art. They observe/peep into others’ lives and secret or routine patterns to produce great art. In the process, they undergo catharsis in their own mundane lives… Somehow, Mumbai brings both of them together when they were in their own individual voids.

Munna and Noor are the observed. They do not realize that and therefore, they end being temporary muses for Shai and Arun, respectively. Obviously, your heart goes out for both of them. You root for them throughout the movie even though your intuition tells you about impending tragedies for both.

This is a movie that reveals the interlinks and the interactions between the observer, the observed, and the observation(s). At some points, all three merge. And this provides us with a feast of sounds, sights, and events for what else is there to life in the maximum city.

This is a movie that contains shorter movies and films in it. Sometimes, the shorter films take over and we forget the bigger picture. The movie reveals that shared spaces just like shared times never belong to the people who shared it. Nobody owns those moments in time or space; neither the observer nor the observed. In the movie, there are only two silent constants when and where everything changes: Mumbai and Noor’s/Arun’s elderly neighbour.

This is a movie that shows us slices of life. It enters a whole new genre where very few movies belong: such is life…

Behind the scene...

On a breezy, cool December afternoon, an Express train chugs out of Pune…

In the S5 compartment, among the many occupied seats, there is an unoccupied one. Curious passengers eye this seat wondering whether the passenger may board the train at the next station. Or better still, whether this seat is available!

After an hour or two, the TC hands the empty seat (and berth) over to a waitlisted passenger and makes some quick money out of it. This was a train ticket not cancelled…

The waitlisted passenger puts his feet up; he is happy. Perhaps, he was in a last minute rush and could not plan his journey. Maybe some untoward incident happened and he is trying to make it in time. And this time, he got lucky.

The TC and the seat-buyer thanked the passenger who did not cancel the ticket. There sure must be some story behind this, right?

You bet there is.

What is life?

God. Enlightenment. Truth. Shunyata. Mounam.

All these concepts… They’re like defined spaces among undefined spaces. And all that has been defined exists in our mind(s). Outside, these concepts have no validity or utility.

Not able to write more… It is so tough to write what you ‘know’. So much easier to write what you don’t know, or what you understand, or at least, pretend to understand.

Alandi beckoned

Sant Dynaneshwar. I had heard of him and his contemporary saints way back in school first. I think, in 4th Std. My memory fails me. Sant Tukaram, Sant Ramdas, Sant Eknath, et al.

Visiting Alandi was on my mind ever since I came back to Pune last year. Somehow, the calling came on October 30 (Saturday) and I found myself biking towards Alandi.

The town reminded me of Thiruvannamalai though Alandi is still not as commercialized as Thiruvannamalai. And thank God for that!

Headed straight to Mauli’s Sanjeevan Samadhi (samadhi while still alive) spot. Sant Nivrittinath, Sant Muktabai, and Sant Sopandev (Mauli’s siblings) were all present when he took his Samadhi along with many other devotees and followers. Mauli (mother) was what Sant Dynaneshwar’s contemporary saints called him.

After pradakshina, bought the Haripatha and the Pasayana and began reading them in the blessed company of Varkaris. Thereafter, had bhojan prasad.

From what I could gather, the Varkaris were/are like “singing saints”… similar to the 63 Nayanars, I guess. Mauli had resurrected the Varkari sect/movement in the 13th century in only a brief span of 21/22 years that he lived…

Sitting under the Peepal tree near Mauli’s Samadhi is pretty much the same as sitting inside Virupaksha cave.
Nothing more to say.

Borrowed sorrows

Kuch baatein aisi hoti hain,
Kuch rishte aise hote hain jinke naam nahin hote;
Hote hain, toh sirf paigaam...
Warna sirf jaam.

Aap ne aisa jaadu kiya, ke hum hosh kho baithe.
Phir, aap ne aisa jaadu kiya, ki hum humko kho baithe.

Just another day in paradise

It’s one of those days… When you hum a classic song sung in your mother tongue. No matter how much you think and write in English, it sometimes can never relate to your ‘native’ anguish.

Have been humming (trying really hard) Engane njaan urakkendu and Kaliveedurangiyallo..kalivaakkurangiyallo from Deshadanam since morning. Though there is some cathartic effect, the anguish does not break away. It keeps gnawing like a hungry rat trapped.

Just now, another song walked into the remote crevices of my godforsaken mind… Vaalkkanezhuthiya makaranilaavil maamboo manamozhuki from Paithrukum.

Change

Evolution changes choice.
Choice changes evolution.
What changes the change?

Is there more to this than what meets the eye? Is this cyclical or linear? Do we know or as usual merely pretend?

As long as you have not grasped that you have to die to grow, you are a troubled guest on the dark earth. – Mircea Eliade, Romanian writer.

Fleeting lines from a song long forgotten

Main tujhse janmu…
Toh shayad mujhe panaah mile...

If

My life contains my life's most important word.

Gone?!

Gone are the good morning mornings and the good night nights. Each moment, a part of me dies and a part replaces it: trying to live.

Grrr...

Karta: I want to be inside Virupaksha cave right this moment. It is the only cocoon that protects me from the world. Protects the world from me.

Sakshi: What a deep level of attachment! Still have a long way to go...

Who am I: Who is observing the observer observing the observed?

Sound: Grrr...

Once more...

Sudden lovebursts and longings in every heartbeat I hide…
Yet, your deep, loving eyes won't say:
I'll stay.

Your deep, loving voice somehow careless of my heartbreak.
Yet, the broken heart whimpers, whispers, sighs and sings:
Our hindi love song.

Just love me...
At least, lie to me:
once more.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mein aur meri tanhayee;
Mein jaanu aur meri khuda jaane.

Koi khalish hain hawaon mein…

Flowers have been nipped in the bud. Just before they could bloom together.
However, these flowers shall bloom again. When the cold-hearted winter gives way to sunny spring and summer…

Interestingly, there is no pain this time.
Maybe it’s the realization that promises can be broken even before trying to keep them.
Maybe it’s Thiruvannamalai healing me from afar.
Maybe it’s my belief that God is in his heaven and all is well on earth.
Maybe the love went deeper than my sore and numb nerves.

The sun shall rise tomorrow and I shall not dwell in the dark tonight. Every dawn, I meditate facing the east awaiting my sunrise.

I pray to God everyday that I may never get Alzheimer’s. For I believe that I live in my memories. They, along with hope, keep me alive. They provide the courage to love once again.

Once again, a part of me has died. It shall resurrect though. For I shall be reborn; and so shall you.

In a song

We are two teardrops in a song. We'll flow with the music. But eventually, we will dry up somewhere near smiling lips.

Just like that

Woh joh kisi ne naa samjha
Woh mein; woh tum...

Woh humne humse hii jaana.

An umbrella story/ Two mornings/ Mornings

Yesterday morning, she came late; drenched to the bone. Aakash was waiting for the maid. He was getting late for work. It was already 8:30am.

“What happened? Why are you late? And wet?” asked Aakash. “I don’t have an umbrella; my daughter uses mine to go to college,” Sunita replied sheepishly. She started her daily routine of sweeping and mopping the floor.

Just before she was done with her work for the day, Aakash walked to his bedroom, took his umbrella from the table, folded it neatly, and gave it to her.

Sunita replied, “Thanks. I’ll return this tomorrow morning.” Aakash retorted nervously, “No; it’s for you to keep. It rains heavily nowadays. You’ll get sick if you get wet like this daily.”

Today morning, Sunita arrived at 7:30am sharp. Aakash noticed that she had an old and abused umbrella in her hand. She was soaking wet from the heavy rain outside. Obviously, this umbrella was of little help.

Aakash asked, “What happened to the umbrella I gave you yesterday?” Sunita (proceeding towards the broom) replied matter-of-factly, “I gave it to my son; he took it to school.”

Such is her love. Such is her life.

A tagged post

A friend recently blogged on Ameen Sayani. When I read this post, my trail of thoughts travelled to Binaca Geetmala, the most popular radio show in Indian history.

Then I remembered listening to radio stations at night because my mom was a big fan of music and songs. She primarily listened to old Malayalam songs but once in a while listened to Hindi songs as well.

I remember Ravi Mama coming home one evening, during those chawlwallah days, with new toothpastes that were out in the market then: Binaca and Cibaca. Light blue toothpastes. For the first time, I brushed my teeth with toothpastes that came in a color other than white!

A little boy back then, I had no idea about market wars. Binaca and Cibaca had threatened Colgate’s leadership and monopoly in the market back then. Now, we see Binaca and Cibaca written on cheap plastic toothbrushes that come free with Dabur Red toothpaste.

Such is life.

End of a dialogue

A child (looking out of a window): Wow! Look! The breeze is so cool; the raindrops spraying on my face is so refreshing.

An elder (peering into the morning newspaper): Close the window; the furniture will be spoilt.

The catalyst

Muse.

The very word is amusing. It lives in its own existence. A muse is to an artist what a catalyst is to a chemical reaction. Basically, what God is to creation or life. As Osho says: The catalyst does not cause any reaction or creation though without its presence nothing can be created; nothing happens.

The relationship between a muse and her artist is the most indefinable relationship.

My desktop wallpaper

An ash-clad face with simmering piercing eyes. Sun-dried and wind-beaten long tresses. Agni surrounds him. He stares at me from my desktop.

Who is he? What is his journey?

All I know is that he was at the last Kumbh Mela (where some photographer captured his fiery gaze). Maybe that is all we need to know about him.

kahin toh

Kahaan kho gayi mere ghar kii chaabi;
Kahaan khoye maine meri raah.

Kahaan jaaon ab taala dhoondne;
Chaabi se pehle taala jo kho gaya tha... Kabhi.

khoyi khoyi sii zindagi

Kuch kahin dur khoyi khoyi sii zindagi;
Kuch khayalaton mein basi sii zindagi.

Ab bahaaron mein baahar aayi sii zindagi;
Hasraton aur shararaton mein zindagi
Ab jeene lagi hain
Kuch kahin aur khoyi khoyi sii zindagi.

Random musings of workless days

I love reading what I had written earlier... just to not lose touch with my past. It is only through what I write that I can be in touch with my past. Be an observer and a witness.

I keep staring at my cell phone every once in a while: maybe I am expecting a call. From the birthdaydigitswallah number. Maybe I expect to make a call. To the birthdaydigitswallah number. But I am avoiding the calling… don’t know how. Don’t know why.

The decision is already made, I guess. – Dated: February 15, 2010

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Why do people take offence for subtle acts of kindness?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ab aisa lagta hain kii kuch karna nahin;
Dur kidhar jhaake rehna nahin.
Zindagi ne khud bulaya hain;
Ab jeene se pehle maut kii tamanna nahin.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Existentialism is the only permanent philosophy in life; it never deserts you no matter what path you take.

My woman

My woman...

My goddess knows no fear:
She is Shakti standing on Shiva
Balancing her grace; balancing the world.

For if she falls, he shall be no more.
No more life; no more death.
No more what we know no more.

Unkept promises

The earth is scorched.
It is awaiting clouds that bring rain. Dark clouds are passing by. They are teasing the earth; they descend, hang low, and show promise of rain.
Maybe, they have no more vapours. Maybe, they are meant to rain elsewhere.

Sighs

A thousand sighs replace a thousand and eight names.
Untold, unspoken, unseen sighs. What should ‘I’ do?

Nothing more. No more.

A thulasi leaf

Sometimes the most important journeys in life are not begun by foot, by flight, or by sail. They start in the Heart.

Such journeys bring home new discoveries and visions. But more importantly they bring home truths; truths you seldom realized before.

Where is this journey taking me?

Yedh yedho kathayil Yamunayil oruganna
Uru thulasi dhalam aanu nyaan.

Friday the 18th

Love entered Shiva's being from a far, far away land somewhere in the east near the sea... Where the Sun rises. Where it should rise. Where it shall never set.

He outstretched his arms and welcomed this addiction called life... :-)) Now, he has to journey a thousand miles before he can sleep in peace.

Who am...

The only spiritual texts that exist: Yoga Vasistha Sara, Ashtavakra Gita, Tripura Rahasya, and the Upanishads.

Mahavaakyas such as Tat vam asi, Aham Brahmasmi, and the way of Neti, Neti. The way of “Not this, not this”. And the way of “Even this, even this” blend in these dialogues and statements.

Note: The great maxims contained in four Upanishads of the four Vedas describe Brahman as:

• Praajnam Brahman—Aitreya Upanishad of Rigveda, meaning “Intelligence or Consciousness is Brahman”.
• Aham Brahmaasmi—Brihadaaranyaka Upanishad of Yajurveda, meaning “I am Brahman”.
• Tat vam asi—Chandogya Upanishad of Saamaveda, meaning “That thou art”.
• Ayam aatma Brahman—Mandookya Upanishad of Atharvaveda, meaning “This Self or aatma is Brahman”.

Who am 'I'?

Karta se sakshi tak...
Such a long journey.

Om Namah Shivaya

Early in the morning, lighting the lamp before the brass lingam starts my day. Om Namah Shivaya… the beeja mantra floods my body and mind.

A train of thoughts fade in and fade out:

• What metaphors the lingam conveys, I can only guess or imagine: Being Ardhanareeshwara… male and female… Lightness and heaviness… Yin and Yang… Being and non-being… Is-ness, here and now… Living in the three states and moving towards Turiya.
• Brahma, Vishnu, Maheswaraa… all imbibed in one. Even Devi is present in the lingam: engulfing the lingam in her yoni. This makes the lingam, for me, complete; not just a phallic symbol.
• When you worship the lingam, you are worshipping the very concepts of existence: the life force. Harmony. All is one. Equilibrium. Sex to Super-Consciousness. Fountainhead. Left Hand of God.
• How many worlds it encompasses? How many emotions it kills?
  

The train fades away somewhere, sometime. Looking at the lingam bathing in the warm glow soothes my eyes. Closing my eyes and meditating to the beeja mantra soothes our soul.

Mind games

It’s that time of the year again when Moon and Venus are seen close to each other in the sky. Just like an enchanting, crescent-shaped smile and a beauty spot near the upper lip on a pretty woman’s face.

God knows what mischief these guys will be up to. What mind games will they play with us mortals?

Un-catchable

Seeking. Stopping.

Living. Dying. Every moment.

Do I know where one begins and the other ends? Should I? Could I?