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…