Whatever...

I finally saw a movie, of which I do not know, if I have an opinion about. I do not know if I like it or hate it. New York was a decent movie, why did I get bored, then? Did I not like the actors? They were okay, I guess, considering their limited capabilities as actors. Irrfan Khan …(wait, did I get his spelling right?) was good, though.

Did I not like the story? That could be a reason. Hardly, anybody paid much attention to the conspiracy that the terrorists ran. I guess the movie was then based on friendship, which does not come across, once the first quarter of the movie is through. Love? Hardly at all, so I will not mention it.

I’m guessing the movie was a combination of criticism and praise. I did not feel good or bad for anyone. Both factors had their say, but then again, not enough. I never for one moment sat up and watched the movie, it was just going on and I continued to watch it. I guess the happy factor is that I never felt like walking out.

Oh yeah, I’m reading the Secret Seven series again. I love them just as much as before. :) But I doubt if I would go for New York again :)
　

Far Away?

The Faraway Tree collection is a very good book, not just for children but for adults as well. I am not saying that just because, I am reading it again now, and because all kinds of people are gushing over it. ;)

I am saying that because it creates a completely perfect world, far, far away.

• It talks of a good environment where all the kids live in clean and green surroundings.
• It talks of a world free of pollution, no smoke, no dust and no grime and no dirt.
• It even simply talks of innocence, which we hardly get to see from children nowadays.
  

So, is it a philosophical or a politically motivated book? As I read on, I am beginning to be convinced of its environmental significance, it starts off with the polluted city, going on to talk of cutting trees and also, trees dying. Enid Blyton tells us of what is to come, back in the 1930s(?), and how we can save our plants and trees.

Probably, Enid Blyton had no such intention when she wrote this book, or maybe she did, and which is why she creates a whole new world, free of all the above.

Here’s hoping that Enid Blyton’s world comes true. :)

David Yates comes of age :)

Wow! This really is a Harry Potter movie. Now, we are talking.

David Yates has finally got it all right, he has made a brilliant movie, in which he has bid adieu to his own dark side. This movie has subtly delivered the message, it is supposed to deliver. Voldemort can finally be very careful.

While the earlier Chris Columbus versions were childish at most, Alfonso Cuaron did only one movie and the last David Yates flick was gloomy, this one promises a terrific climax.

While Richard Harris remains the best Dumbledore, playing the character with ease and élan, Michael Gambon has finally hit all the right notes, in this movie. Enacting Dumbledore in probably the right mode, he has brought out the character in the book to the screen. Finally.

The others all have smaller parts. Coming to the true essence of the film, Ron and Hermione have blink and miss roles here. Harry’s character has to come to the fore in this film, something which he misses out on, I felt. Malfoy was really good, specially towards the end, where he has to be the confused death eater, that he actually is in the book.

It is of course, definitely worth a watch or two perhaps for the coming together of the film, the characters and their roles. David Yates, take a bow.

PS: Did I mention the language of the movie? I have not heard such words like ‘albeit’ and ‘whilst’ in ages, it was wonderful and in a movie like this it seemed more than apt.

Birthdays! What the heck!?

So, anyway, I am turning a year older on August 1st. :) So usually, a day of great mourning and grief. But, now I’ve come to realise a few things.

1) I’m tired of crying each year, since 25, so this time I am going to be happy. ;)

2) Nothing is going to be different? Whatever happens, happens for the good.

3) Where the hell are my gifts? :) 15 days to go, phew.

Of course, I love birthdays, did not like them too much these past few years, but hey, time’s running out. I mean the time to not like them is running out, so well, this year we begins the time to love the happy birthday time.

I don’t care if I don’t get any gifts (I would do a U turn if someone gave me tickets to the latest Harry Potter flick. Or even if they got me of ‘Before Sunrise’ and ‘Before Sunset’ CDs. I don’t care if no one got me yummy cake, if I didn’t do anything for my birthday (Hint, Hint)

From this year on, It’s all going to be good. Oh yeah, I still hate the line about age being just a number. :p

So, 15 days, power on. To me :)

:)

Reading and writing remain two of the most important things in my life. If you think about it, almost everyone has a story to tell, of their lives, even anecdote from it, an incident, or even a complete phase. This is what is and will always remain fascinating to me.

Stories of adventure, of passion, of mystery, of emotion, even of fear and comedy.

I love the funny story bit. I like it best when a story can inspire you to smile, not laugh… just smile, it could be funny, or even sad, but it should make you smile. So, I plan to achieve that. Almost ever story should make you smile. Otherwise, what is the point of movies, or books, or even life? :)
　

Who? Me?

A friend recently told me that I am such a romantic, and I took up arms at that. I said I wasn’t and that she should get her eyes checked. :) But anyway, I thought about it and well, I could see her point.

My stories always talk of nature and its beauty, most of my stories have a touch of humour and romance (I do not mean the kind of silly romance one gets to see in most movies) but well, it means a little adventure and nostalgia, fantasy and a sense of excitement. So, well , I thought, ‘I am a romantic. And why the hell not?’

Also, apparently, I am getting a tad philosophical these days. Well, I cannot help it, because I believe. I believe in everything good, I try and avoid the bad stuff if possible, books, movies and talk.

Ok. Does it have anything with the above? Am I the tomboy, I was then?

Well, yes and no. Because, I still hate to wear saris and all the girly stuff there is. I hate lipstick and make up. I still love the jeans, of course, the tops may have changed. :) Basically, I am still a pain for my mother.

So, the central point is this: I am a romantic and I am proud of it. And people do go through change and I can see it happening in me and around me. It was a little difficult to get at first and to deal with, but well, this is what it is. Now, if I am a little embarrassed at first, when I meet you, deal with it. :)

Did I make sense? Well, I don't care what you think :p　

Is this English? Really?

Today, I happened to read an article on how a lot of schools do not mind the odd American spelling. Students, apparently prefer the all-American spelling because it is shorter!

I find it shocking that schools, which usually preferred the ‘old’ English, are today, ignoring what we used to treat as mistakes in the earlier day as perfectly correct. Why am I not at all surprised, by this? Shocked but not surprised.

Call me narrow-minded, but this kind of thing is what irritates me the most. ‘But hey, it is shorter. You can miss the odd use of letters just as long as they fit in.’

While we have used the British spelling for years, and the Americans have used their kind of spelling for ages, I do not understand why we have to change the way we learnt our English. While we cannot be strictly distinct about our English, we have still managed to write in with our bit of flavour. Why then should we leave it behind, and use the American spelling?

Today, we find a lot of Indian writing in English, writers are preferring the use of this ‘adopted’ language. Should we change it? Should I change my honour to honor? Or perhaps the colour of my language to the color of theirs?

While many Indians in the US and finding it difficult to write ‘colour’ , as opposed to color, we in our own country are preferring the use of color to colour? I have enough trouble changing it on MS Word, I would not want my teacher correcting me, too. It is not that I am against the use of the American spelling, use it, but use it in their country.

I guess many would disagree with me, but English is at its best the old way, the all Indian way. It always was and always will be my favourite mode of writing, not my favorite mode of writing.

Literature in Language or are we asking for too much?

This blog is just me wondering, I am not trying to criticize anyone, so please try and read. :)

Yesterday, a friend asked me to read a paragraph of Paulo Coelho's. I said I do not like him but that got me thinking. If the language is good enough would I ever forget the subject? Or would I give importance to the subject over the language? Is it possible to ignore one over the other?

I have always given importance to the language, but was left wondering about the subject. How are we defining a good book? I almost always read a book depending on the subject, because I expect the language to be good. 7 out of 10 times, it is good, or well, at least I think it is good. I am not just talking of the spellings and the grammar, I am talking of the language as a whole.

Nowadays, I am not just looking at the blurb, but am actually reading it for a couple of minutes, before I buy it. Because I am looking for literature in the language. Where is it? With books adapting the so-called modern language, are we not missing out? Perhaps, yes and no… I’m not trying to deny the expression of the language as it is, today. That is the way people talk and that goes, but I still wonder.

And so, while I continue to read a Saki and a P.G Wodehouse, which thankfully have both good language and good subjects, I am also reading a John Grisham and a Mathew Reilly wherein, we have given importance to the subject over the language.

And this is because I do not want to keep wondering about all the books I would be missing, which perhaps have bad language but good content. And here’s hoping that I would never have to choose between the two. (By bad language, I do not necessarily mean bad words, it just means giving importance to one over the other.)

Language is the expression of literature. They should go hand in hand, don’t you think?

And, by the way, I did happen to read Paulo Coelho's, ‘The Alchemist’ and ‘The Warrior of Light’. Have to say, they have both good language and good subjects, but I have never gotten to like him, somehow. :) More to wonder about, perhaps, hmmm…
　

Are you getting published, today?

A friend recently asked me if I don't get frustrated every time I have to see a rejection slip from the publishers. Well, of course, I do, but that's all there is to it. You get frustrated, you let it go. And then tomorrow again, it is another day. I keep feeling happy that I have not yet got as many rejection slips that some of the famous authors, today have got. And so, as time goes on, I keep on trying. Have coffee, will try. :)

And of course, it is a long drawn process, I have understood that. Of course, at times, I do get more irritated at the letter which says next to nothing, whenever they have to reject my book. I keep trying to ask them, but hey, what is the use? Is it the book, or the text in the book or the style, what? At least if I knew, I could, in the least, try. :)

Because, I do not believe that it could be my writing. Because I feel and I know that my writing is good, and it can only get better. Old-fashioned perhaps, but, we live in a funny age, where we learn so much from the book of an earlier age and yet books of today are so differently written, a whole new language.

Is it necessary that every soul has to write in the brand new manner that we read now? Is it necessary that we completely and totally forget the language we learnt and picked up? Its beauty and its charm?

Because, English to my mind is a wonderful and powerful language, where one can be naughty and serious at the same time, happy and sad, or even romantic and morbid at another. So, it has been this wonderful language that I chose to pen my words in.

So, here's looking for light at the end of this tunnel, for a tube light at the end of this power cut, because I can, definitely see some. :)

English… far far away!

When my father first built this house, I was wondering how far, far away... it was. He very smartly, built it, while I was far, far away in Bangalore, so I only found out about it much later. So, basically, they missed my entertaining cribbing.

Anyway, I have stopped cribbing about the distance I have to travel, since, well, I did not have too much choice and since I have discovered the lovely English that is written here. So, well, here are a few words for sampling:

• Corpenter
• Hair drassers
• Battan center
• Ladie’s
• Jents
• Bangil store

With such lively use of the language every half a minute, while I am traveling, who the hell am I to complain? I only hope my English does not go the same way as this. :)

Walking from Sunrise to the Sunset...

Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004) are two movies that I just got to watch on TV. I loved them, both. Especially, the second one. What makes them interesting is perhaps, not so much the romance, as it is the conversations, which really makes the movie go round. And the walking! God! How much they walk!

I loved it, almost every second of it. It’s probably the topics they picked and the smooth transition with which, every subject moved from one to the other. And also, the sense of romance which is present through out, without being obvious.

I felt like I, myself was walking all around the city, whether it was Vienna at first or Paris, in the second movie. Walking and talking is something most of us do, but I doubt any of us, would have given so much thought to it. It is something natural and in this movie it is kept both natural and aesthetic.

Especially, natural with both the lead actors, putting in their pen. Aesthetic, because whatever they talk about, one actually imagines. Imagines their beauty and their appeal.

Also, both movies came with around a ten-year long gap in between. But, somehow, you do not get the feeling that they actually did, because the conversation with which the story holds fort, is completely smooth moving from one movie to the other, with equal ease and charm.

Both movies are excellent, and can stand their own, but I did get the sense that the movie is more appealing only with the other. I reckon, I would be happy if they had more sequels, however, with 10 years in between, of course. I feel like right now, I am missing a very interesting conversation. But, that’s just me.

Does it answer questions? No. it does not. Probably the beauty of it. Well, did that make sense? I don’t care, if it didn’t. I know that I like the movie and urge you, to watch it if you can.
I have had conversations like the above, but again never given it much thought. I hope that conversation like that is not dead. And I hope, I get to have a true conversation again, some time soon. :)
　

Dream Holiday?

What would your dream holiday be like, I wonder? I know that my holiday would not be in an exotic location, like a France or a Switzerland or anywhere else. But right here, in India. There is so much to see and so much to do. But, all I would like is a tiny cottage, with a stream nearby. Boy, wouldn’t I love to sit near the rocks and just stare into space. I wouldn’t like to think of anything at all.

On the other side of the river, there would be hills and oh yeah, there would be a waterfall at the end of my river. The bright rays of the sun, would stroke the earth gently, making the dew on the grass, I’m lying down on, shine like little gems. Did I forget to mention the rainbow? Well, far into the distance, I would love to see my own little ribbon of seven colours.

I’d love to sit right there on the spot, leaning against a tree with its broad branches enough to have you swing on or even climb on. I loved climbing trees, as a kid. Wonder how I’d do that now, but hey, this is my dream holiday so in this dream, I am climbing the tree.

Just like the one, I did as a kid, climbing another branch, each year. It had the broadest branches, (none to swing on though), and it had pink flowers. And large green leaves and it had the best cubby holes in which I could hide a few tiny things. All those tiny buttons in the world found their way into the cubby hole. Going off the topic again, I see. Basically, I’d like a tree. :)

I’d also like to either read a book, or to not think. It’s just beautiful. Just the thought. It is said that anticipation is better than realization. Well, I doubt that. I have been to places, always with family or friends, where I’ve seen, well, almost seen, spots such as the one I described. I’d love to go back there. Alone though. So, I’m not telling you where. :)

Restarters :)

Reliving old times is probably the best way to start or restart this blog. I have come to a point in my life, when yesterday makes a lot of sense, and possibly shows me the path to tomorrow. As I sit here and go through photographs, letters, and notes, text books of yesterday, then tomorrow seems more clearer and funnier.


Photographs, for the obvious reasons, I specially love the ones where I am standing in front of my father’s jeep, in my pants and shirt, because it reminds me of how early in life I was a tomboy, I kinda miss those days. :)


Letters, because they have their own sense, not emails or anything but true, solid handwritten letters from friends and cousins. I wished in those days for clearer handwriting in the form of typewriters. How I hate the keyboard now.


Notes, are funny because they have so much to say of what went right and wrong, especially at holidays, far away from home. I’m reminded of my two cousin brothers and the many buffaloes they kept calling bulls. They talk of adventures and mysteries which, I had taken upon myself to solve and go through.


It reminds me, of the young man fishing at the creek. I do not know why, I remember him. Probably, because he seemed so much at peace with himself and the world. I wish I was like that, all day, everyday.

Text books, not for all the learning we picked up from it, but for all stupid lines and drawings we made in them, just to kill the time. I’m reminded especially of a poetry book with every other English poet, for whom we drew… moustaches, beards and hats, which we deemed right to draw. It still gives me the best laughs, ever.


Through memories alone, will my stories be remembered forever and though stories alone, will I always have these memories. :)