And point proven

This morning I woke up to a very cheery message. A friend of mine had delivered a baby girl. A tiny baby with curled fists and squished up toes and teeny nails. I haven't seen pictures but I imagine her to be pink and bald with chubby chipmunk cheeks.

A little baby. A little baby girl.

Around six years ago, I had visited this friend, Sara - I will call her, in Gurgaon. She was pregnant with her first baby then. (Who is also a beautiful little girl I have had the privilege of traveling with. She had once told me to stop singing her a lullaby.) Anyway, at that time Sara was pregnant and was wearing a loose t-shirt on which she had painted the phrase, "Unfold your own myth." (She is an artist and a beautiful person. I mean, she has the features of a goddess but there's a quiet, sing-song benevolence in her eyes and smile...like the first sunrise you wake up to after spending a night on a snowy mountaintop.)

We had hugged. I had spent a great time with her, celebrated a birthday there, etc. That phrase stayed in my head. "Unfold your own myth." I didn't quite understand what it meant.

But lately I had been thinking about what I believed about myself. One of the things was about consistency. That I am impatient, I lose interest in projects if there is no immediate pay-off, that I am attracted to the next shiny toy. But writing a post every day was me unfolding my myth.

I could be all those things - impatient, ad hoc, unreliable, easily distracted...and I could still be consistent. I could keep a promise I make to myself...my writer self. There are several writer selves. This writer self that I keep my promise to is quite sweet and humble. (The others are arrogant and wear their egoes like porcupine needles. But they protect this sweet and humble writer.)

Anyway, today I looked back at my blog and noticed that I have written every day. Every single day. Whether I published a post or not, I wrote.

That's one myth unfolded. On the day a little baby girl is born.

I think that's what daughters are (your own or anyone else's) - unfolder of myths.

265, 266 of 15,400

So, things have been a bit funky yesterday. Almost lost my cool twice - came very close but did not.

Watched 'Once upon a time in Hollywood' - it's a macabre carnival, and I find it to be Tarantino's best film after Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill. I didn't care much for Reservoir Dogs or Inglorious Bastards and I haven't watched Django Unchained. Leonardo is such a good actor that, for the first time, I realized what a friend had once told me - that he seldom plays different parts. He's always a man pushed to the brink of something, a man-child who destiny cradles at the end. For someone who could has pretty much played the same beats over and over, his is still the face you want to see a permanent smile on. 

I have never liked Brad Pitt too much but he is really fine in this film. In fact, I found him to the finest actor in this film - and that's no feat considering the cast. Then, of course, there is the soundtrack - which makes all Tarantino films such a treat! And the way each scene, at least visually, seems to be designed like a book cover. Like if you just turned over that image, there was a story - for each little scene. 

I hate watching violence so when the quintessential Tarantino kicks in, I shut my eyes and all. But until that point, this movie was a ballad of the bizarre.

I also drew a panda yesterday. Thought it turned out good.

Today, have come into work. Very very sleepy. But there's coffee at hand. 

Day 95 of 14,600

The Burrito Lesson

Nowadays, I order food from outside. Usually I try to eat less but some days, when I am feeling particularly stressed, I tend to order more food. One sub-conscious reason for stress, possibly, is that I come home late from work but there's no kitchen set up yet. So I feel like I am starving. I am not.

Anyway, I ordered a rice with Peri Peri potatoes as well as a crispy mushroom Burrito from Burrito bowl. Either one would be fine. But I got greedy and ordered both.

Then around 3, I had the rice bowl which was good. I wasn't even hungry then but still. That was okay. I also felt that I shouldn't have ordered the other burrito.

Since it's expensive, I thought I would save it for next day. But I don't have a refrigerator yet so it would spoil. And it was getting soggy by the minute.

I tried to sit and finish the other thing as well. It made me unwell just looking at it. So I did what I have actually not done in many many months.

I threw food away.

It made me feel bad but not as much as eating it was making me feel. I think when you get greedy or you choose anything from a place of lack, even a tasty thing, a desirable thing, can make you sick.

It's better to take a little and give hunger a chance.

Empty is good. 

Don't Breathe - First Impressions

Don't breathe - gripping with an interesting sub-text. A blind soldier defends his property against three thieves by switching off the lights and, in his own way, making the house a space where he can protect himself from intruders. But you feel sorry for the kids who got greedy, committed a theft, and mostly grossly underestimated a man's strength.

So basically, if you are powerful and have boundaries and fight to defend what is yours, you are wrong and must pay. (Reminded me of Animal Farm a little bit.)

Not an easy watch. Definitely don't see it if you want to 'unwind'.

320, 319, 318, 317: First Impression: Mohenjo Daro

Really enjoyed Mohenjo Daro. It was nice to see a movie far better than what the trailer conveyed. It is sometimes slow, sure. And sometimes one gets the feeling that Gowarikar's Mohenjo Daro was modeled on Lokhandwala culture...but I still loved it. The depiction that before every version of history or object of art was created, there was the setting up of a market place. Or when gold was counted, no one noticed that it was blocking the view of a setting sun. Or what the trail of indigo signified. Or how every civilization, great or small, gets built by people who fled their homes.

And Hrithik is such a special actor. I wish he'd done Sultan and Rustom and Chak De and Lagaan...any movie that needs a hero with strength and nobility should have him in it. Am quite the fan now...

(Took this from Mukta's facebook post.)

480, 479, 478, 477, 476, 475, 474

A lot has happened.

I spent a lot of time with my sister-in-law and mom, which was sweet and fun. Caught the 'Ground Hog Day' at Lost the Plot - which is an open-air screening that happens at the Seasons Hotel in Aundh. It was lovely. (I'd definitely recommend catching a movie there. They have those cushy chairs and headphones and you can watch the film sipping wine or glugging beer or nibbling crumb-fried mushrooms. And maybe during a slow moment, you could look around and see an inky blue sky threaded with stars. A pretty cinematic dissonance there - at least for the first few times.

Also watched Joy which I loved immensely. Jennifer Lawrence is so,,,solid. In an odd way, she reminds me of Anthony Hopkins. Like if they just said 'Open the door', they'd say it in a way you'll replay in your death-bed because it would be momentous. I haven't seen any of her other films but this one I quite liked.

Speaking of good actresses, I liked Nimrit Kaur's performance in Airlift. Airlift was quite a movie. I mean, I didn't find it exceptional or anything but my father had visited Kuwait during the time Saddam had attacked it. When we'd visited him in Aquaba 2 months before, we'd seen tanks lining the streets. And there was evacuation of such a large number of people. All this happened not too long ago and I was obliquely involved. But because there was no internet or mobile phones or anything, you really just went with the collective flow. It was heartening to see the Indian flag flying at the end of the movie when the refugees are finally brought to Aman from where they board the flight to Bombay. Patriotism - that moment of pride when your country finally comes through for its people. Overall, I liked it.

Finished reading Em and the big Hoom by Jerry Pinto. Cried hard after that. Starting reading Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro. Sometimes tears flow soft when I am in the middle of one of those short stories.

I had some friends over. It was nice. We sat in the balcony, in the candle light, and had coffee. A couple of days later, a friend had us over too. The person I was dating was invited too. It was so massively uncomfortable for me to go that I couldn't skip, you know? Sometimes, you just decide to go and put yourself in a situation to see if it will break you and if it does, how much. So I went and spent a lot of time in the kitchen making coffee. But then, I think one softens when you see people operating from a basic sense of decency. The person I was dating was polite, my other friends were discreet and didn't bring up anything that I couldn't handle, and only friend I felt, repeatedly kept putting me on the spot. But I think it's all okay if you remember that people mean well.

I read out a passage from Nocturnes. I also got everyone to read out a passage from Shame by Salman Rushdie.

And that's why I love books so much. Books listen. When you read something and you are stirred, the words on the page listen. You may feel like you are the vessel that's taking all the words in but I think, there comes a point when the book hushes and pays attention to whatever story is pouring out of you as you read it.

I think that's why I believe in the goodness and salvation of the world. That even in a civilization that may be as doomed as ours, we are still capable of that.

487: Food, cinema, and other assortments

Yesterday I saw a white flower and an orange flower on the same branch. The sun was setting and these two blooms nodding in the wind like happy siblings.

A pal and I went to Café Joshua in Aundh where I tried a hot chocolate called 'Nutty Affair'. It was made with Nutella and it was really hearty and nice. I'm not a fan of chocolate but I liked it a lot. My friend a slice of carrot cake which looked really tasty. You could see the generous gratings of carrots and smell the lovely cinnamon.

This morning I did yoga. It made me feel good and sore and disappointed at the same time. But no matter. I'm sure things will improve.

With another friend, I tried out Le Plaisir on Prabhat Road. Relished the pasta there and she recommended an expresso panacotta that was creamy and soothing. Oh, and a special mention to the cappuccino I had there. It was King. It reigned the meal. It reigned my mind. That coffee ought to have its own conversation.

We also got some more coffee at Peter Donuts on Bhandarkar Road. It's big and all but I didn't like it too much as a spot to actually go and work there. I definitely prefer the one at Aundh. There's a lot more light there and I follow the sun.

Things got a little difficult with a friend in the evening and I'm beginning to get a little hassled with the unpredictability of human relationships. I mean, things can change so quickly. You know, sometimes you go wanting the approval of your friends (even though it may be freely given, which is why the friendship exists.). Then somewhere, life situations happen and you may find yourself in the awkward position where your approval may be sought. I'm finding this more and more - at times with people at work, at times with relatives, and at times with friends. What they seek or expect from me...or why they feel I may even have anything to give them, I'm not very sure about. Harsh words get exchanged, they will play in the mind until very carefully and consciously, one forgives and does not take it personally. But well, I guess such things will happen. You just have to breathe through it. And maybe remind yourself to be kind and strong. Kind enough to let things go. And strong enough to let the friend go, if necessary. And of course, wise enough to know whether it is necessary or not.

Much later in the evening, another friend and I went to a movie, 'The Danish Girl'. It's a moving story of a painter in Denmark who is also married to an artist. One day, the wife asks this painter to try on the clothes of a ballerina who was modelling for her. The man obliges. Except that when he tries on the stockings and the shoes, something awakens within him and he's drawn to the life of being a woman. The couple moves to Paris. The man's immersion in the experience of being a woman becomes more pronounced and worrisome. Therapy is sought. Therapy doesn't work. There's anger, doubt, confusion. The marriage survives all this. The wife stands by him and ultimately, the man undergoes the operation to become a woman. With this wife on his side.

The painter dies in the end. But it is such an uplifting story. It's poignant and moving and those stunning vistas of Denmark, Paris, and artist studios strewn with large, opulent canvases.

In the end, there remains whatever you began with. And maybe it always begins with love and beauty.

That's the hope.
 

490: Story of the wick and related observations

Sometimes, the spotlight shifts. Of course, it doesn't shift so sharply that you stop noticing the dance of the flames or the fierce, strong glow of the light. You also remain enchanted by the theatre of shadows that this flickering, capricious child of he candle plays out on the wall. You are only human, so you will notice that and celebrate that and admire that and wistfully want more of that in your life.
But then, sometimes the spotlight will shift and ...you will notice something else.

Something smaller, darker, more commonplace, and regular and homely...which may not seem to do too much - not ignite a passion or awaken art...it will not do much more than simply hold the fire, so that it can do its thing.

Bajirao Mastani left me wondering about Kashibai. What was in it for her? Just...why? And...how? What for?

I liked the film and it's a testament to how unfulfilling lives can get when no one is drinking coffee. Oh ya...for all that big budget and plush themes, why doesn't Bansali show anyone eating a meal in his movies? No wonder they all suffer the fate they do.

492: Cabby-talk, some books loaned, and Wazir

I woke up with a sore knee this morning but it got better as the day wore on. Here's what else happened:

1. I went to Phoenix with a friend. It was good fun. Although we didn't find anything nice in Zara. I mean they were nice but nothing new. Forever 21 though had some good stuff.

2. We were cabbing it back to Baner after our trip and the cabbie started talking to us about past life regression. It was a little strange but also natural.

3. Met up with another pal later that night. She loaned me 'Em and the Big Hoom' by Jerry Pinto and 'Temple of My Familiar' by Alice Walker. Very excited to start reading them.

4. Went to watch 'Wazir' with her and her husband. I really liked it. Some strong performances and I'm surprised by how good the music is! It's only now that I am somehow seeing that Amitabh Bachchan is quite a special man. I am liking him more now than earlier.

567, 566: Tabu in Talwar

The ear-ache was mighty bad yesterday but a friend took me to watch Talwar. That film is imperative. I love how they have explained the title of the movie. Also, this case is so reminiscent of the themes in Camus' The Outsider. From point of view of characterization, something I have started observing because I would like to write a script someday, I loved Tabu's profile.

I liked how her character gave credibility to Irfan Khan's nature.

He was a man who'd stayed with his wife despite her affairs - he even expected them. In the middle of a tough investigation, he can recall his wife's migraine medicine. Over the phone, he observes that she's watching the film he had alluded to earlier. One remembers all these details when Irfan Khan is accused of not knowing about human interactions because he couldn't stay married. Without her, Irfan Khan would be a bright mind wearing a spectacle.

The writing of her character is what amazed me considerably.

624: First Impressions: Drishyam

It is unnecessarily slow and loud in some places and although one remains a huge Tabu fan, one wonders if she's becoming a contemporary Rakhee of sorts who always has problems with her sons (Namesake, Astitva, Haider, this one...). Rajat Kapur is wasted in a linen shirt, and who is that napkin who plays Ajay Devgn's wife? But in places where it's only Devgn, Tabu, and that stellar cop - Gaitonde or Gaikonde, I rooted, I cheered, and I applauded. Ajay Devgn's eyes need their own separate credits in casting.

It was a good watch, all in all...

643: On watching 'Inside Out'

Watched Inside Out. It's a sweet film, I guess...but of course, even the ambiguous emotions can't be free of stereotyping - so 'Joy' is svelte and fair while Sadness is stout and blue and wears a chunky turtleneck.

Even emotions must clock in their hours at  'headquarters' and they must use the grand one-finger swipe on glass beads that capture memory because everything mimicks a touchscreen in the head. Memories too are stratified. There are 'core' memories that must be managed by whoever heads the 'Fake it till you make it' brigade. (There's no brigade, per se...just one person.) The other three emotions, especially Sadness, that actually approaches the truth gets bossed over. Eventually, it's the truth that gets you through. (Oh, and the final miserable straw that breaks sad Riley's back is getting a vegetarian pizza...with broccoli.) My absolute favorite part was the 'I Lava You' short musical animation before the film. It's not part of the film - but it's delectable! (Lava: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8f4BpGbVnDk)

Anyway, these comments aside - it's a sweet film. Reminiscent of the poem that's either by Emily Dickinson or Robert Hamilton (both have been credited with this poem on the Net):

“I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow;
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When Sorrow walked with me.”

674, 673: Impressions from Tanu Weds Manu Returns

1. There is an inverse relationship between the length of a woman's hair and her self-esteem.

2. People choose their marriage partners based on whose dramas they can feed off on (and who in turn will suck up their own drama and nonsense).

3. It takes a sorted individual to stay away from marriage and/ or to walk away from it.

4. Kangana Ranaut is like the sun.

5. Madhavan reminded me of Aamir Khan - both so irritating that they give my intestinal lining a rash.

6. Sometimes one gets a sense that the movie is better than the script on account of the actors. One doesn't get that sense very often but I got it with this film. It would have been a cesspool of Haryanvi-Delhi-Punjabi clichés in less able hands.

7. Great wisdom was imparted by Deepak Dobiyal: "You have misbehaved the deadline." (I hear you brother...I hear you.)

675

Today I saw the rushes of the video we'd shot. It was most certainly a 'woohoo' moment but...I don't know if it's because it's my first time or if all writers feel the same way...but watching a film based on your script is a little like searching for a person's baby features in a very mature visage.

Sometimes one sees a resemblance. Sometimes one misses it. But you know that it's there somewhere because...how else could it have become? I was on the sets when the video was sh...ot. I'd done some amount of directing. I was there as it happened. Yet when I see on screen the light and shadow fall a certain way, when I see the actor smile one minute and scowl the next, when I listen to the intonation of some other artist's voice, I wonder...how did it become his story? how did it become everyone's story? WHEN did it become everybody's story?

Looking back, I think I know. It was when the first camera was switched on. When, just like that, collectively, we trudged to a point of no return and stumbled right over. I have never been fond of the camera or anything related but when I see the film, I think about how BIG it is. Just by being there. Just by allowing itself to be handled but being obdurate enough to want what it wants. As a writer I was never behind the camera nor in front of it. But I "see" the camera now as I watched the finished film.

It was the vessel and the void where the baby grew up. (And as I'm one of its many worthy co-parents, I now want the kid to go and make some money.)

754, 753:First Impressions: Whiplash

A tough teacher who is lean, bald and dressed in black. A soft cheeked student who is naive and 19. Between acerbic insults and 'motherf###', 'faggot', 'you girls', 'fu## you', 'FU### YOU', some bleeding, drumming gets done. The theatre erupted in applause after the final scene. I thought it was a tad too cliched.

843, 842 - First Impressions: Gone Girl, Interstellar

Two good days. Two very good days.

There were two rather nice movies - Interstellar and Gone Girl. Interstellar really had me towards the end when the full import of what was being conveyed hit me. Somewhere we look to Science for the same things that we look to God for - a sense of feeling small before something great which is different from daily life. In daily life, one generally feels insignificant before something big - and that is not the same thing at all. If this doesn't make sense, then watch the movie - especially the scenes of dust storms in the beginning, the first sighting of the worm hole, the colossal wave that threatens to knock the spaceship, and the final knock behind the shelves that sorts everything out. It is spine-tingly towards the end. Michael Caine and Anne Hathway grated on my nerves for a little bit but Mathew and Matt Damon are very good. Damon has a really short role but comes with a very important message - nature can be a bit ugly - especially the parts of nature that course through a species as little impulses that spall out 'Survival'.

Gone Girl - I have read and loved the book and the movie had me glued to the end.  But I didn't think Amy Adams quite pulled off playing Amazing Amy. She seemed too 'nice', you know? Someone who will take things at face value and worry whether people like her. Amy in the book was stylishly subversively snarkily the perfect poor little rich girl. In the book, more than the murder, more than the suspense or the big reveal, what held me were her insights. Not just hers - even Nick's (played by Ben Affleck). How he is such a misfit as a writer in the twitter generation, her take on the 'cool girl' phenomenon, and both of theirs chronicle of a decaying marriage with its resentment and its soul-eroding blandness. That stuff was very, very good. (Do read the book.) Rosamund Pike looks a little too sweet to ever entertain those kinds of thoughts. She has tried, though. She is earnest. Affleck IS Nick. With Nck's part, he's hit the right pitch. Overall, it's a good movie.

What else? There was a pit stop at Prithvi where we had iced tea. Then there was a ride back home in the BEST (non-AC bus) which was really comforting.

I love going to the movies! That thrill when the lights go down and the massive screen gets lit with the first scene - that expectation and the thrill is awesome. Maybe I like it for the innocent way a movie hall asks for your complete surrender for a few hours. And how I, readily and simply, give it.

These are things to cherish - moments when one kept it simple.

867, 866

A quick round-up of the last two days:

An interesting discussion with a group of pals on the epistolary form of writing. We even did an exercise and it was fun.

On the way back home suddenly decided to go to Bombay. And one reason I love a flush, full wallet is that it allows me to change my mind and indulge in a trip home.

So I went to Bombay and it was nice. Went for Haider. It was nice enough but it left me underwhelmed. I think if you must adapt, then the characters that die in the original must die in the adaptation. Why did Haider live? I think if there isn't that kind of fidelity to characters, then it's just another story of a son seeking to avenge his father's death...and that is any of Amitabh Bachchan's 500 movies.

But maybe the real Haider or Hamlet is Kashmir and it's demand for 'Azaadi'? The way the film is shot, the place really comes alive like a spectre, like a soul, like a song.

Back home to Pune with high fever and a solid backache.

Rested at home and read a book. Now, will paint my coffee table.

922-food and film

Tonight, a friend and I cooked dinner and watched a film on her laptop. We made a thick carrot and coriander soup, garlic bread, and a side of lightly fried and strongly spiced beetroot and mushrooms. It's our new  project now- to learn to cook some dishes well.

The soup is very simple. We chopped up 4 medium-sized carrots and broke of the stalks of the coriander. These were put in a pot of boiling water. There wasn't too much water, though...maybe half and inch more than the level of carrots. To the water a little salt, a smatter of chopped garlic and a little black pepper powder. After the carrots were properly softened and the taste of coriander had infused the broth, we pureed the mixture. Then we put the puree to boil again, adding some more water and butter. When it bubbled, we sprinkled coriander leaves and turned off the gas. So, soup was done.

The garlic bread was made on tava as I don't have an oven.We buttered the bread on one side and added chopped garlic on it. The tavaa was also heated and smeared with some butter. Then we took the bread slices and put them on the tavaa, the garlic side down. The bread slice needs to be pressed into the tavaa so that the garlic cooks and sticks to the bread. After that side is done, the slice is flipped over and the other side is toasted. So, that's the toast.


Mushrooms were real quick. They were chopped coarsely and sauteed in mustard oil. To this, meat masala (from Everest), salt, and little chilli powder was added.Cook until tender and coated with the spices. Then, mushrooms off the gas.

There was some more of that spice remaining in the pan so beetroot cubes were cooked in that. Water was added until the beetroot was real soft and the water had dried up. Beetroot gets a beautiful glaze after you are done with it, so it makes for a pretty side.

Then we watched Lost in Translation, which I love. I was watching the film for the first time but I had read the script before and watched some of Sophia Coppolas interviews. I remember loving, absolutely loving the script. The movie does justice. The scenes are so delicate, so membranous almost. And I love that the first and only time that Bill Murray smiles in the movie is at the end, when he says goodbye.

933 - Could there be a connection?

It seems as if there haven't been too many great horror films or too many great love stories in the last few decades. Could it be that as we lose our ability to frighten, we lose our ability to move someone with matters of the heart?

939 - Begin again

Today, I saw the movie 'Begin Again' starring Keira Knightly and Mark Ruffalo. I liked it. It is trite and stereotypical in places - the romance of NYC, the British-rose demeanour of Keira Knightly, Ruffalo looking scruffy yet again, and the shallowness of the music industry. But the songs are really nice. One imagines listening to it with the lights off, a candle flickering, and waiting for the dawn to break.