I mourn for the child

I mourn for the child that once was.

She tied a red ribbon with her plump fingers

Around the eyes like RoboCop.

She had horses and chicken and tigers and bulls;

They moved across a crystal palace

With pillars made of glass and a throne immaculate in china,

And roared like the fork-bearing son of Poseidon.

Alas! When caught in the play,

Modesty blushed red,

For Shame condemns its affair with Imagination.

She was brash Achilles and a noble warrior of the Himalayas;

She saved the whimpering damsel, played by her but never her,

All in the secret kingdom.

For who’d see the restaurant she fashioned out of miniature kitchenware?

Nor beyond the cricket ball tossed up and down,

At the tale of Joseth and his Biblical destiny?

They wouldn’t know, not even guess,

They who mocked her dear heart

Fast to forgive, desperate to belong.

And yet, if asked, she wouldn’t answer with anything but happiness.

When she fortuned love and fun, she swallowed it hungry;

When deprived, her inner world greeted her, its Creator.

Her heart, pure, lingered not on the darkness of man.

Her mind as of yet unable to cower in front of monsters shaped by it.

I mourn for the child,

Who had savored taste in the bittest of crumbs,

And had excited in adventures far above her immature insignificance.

I mourn for that child,

Who had known nothing but happiness.

For she has all grown up

And now nothing of happiness.

Quote: September 30, 2009

There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible, as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man.

Polybius in his Histories, Book XVIII

 

As in the tradition of most Roman historians, Polybius was very interested in interspersing moral tidbits all throughout his writings. Polybius wasn’t originally a Roman citizen, but was Greek and taken hostage by the Roman general and statesman, Aemilius Paulus, during Rome’s increasing political influence and ultimate acquisition of the Aegean in the 2nd Century BCE. However, despite that, he had eventually come to greatly admire the Roman Republic. He wrote extensively about Rome and its political system, which he described as an amalgamation of the Greek concepts of monarchy, oligarchy and democracy, as well as about its army. Much of the subtext, and indeed sometimes more than subtext, in his writings were centered around what he intended to be an explanation to the Greeks as to why Rome had managed to become so powerful and expansive.

 

In any case, this line certainly reveals Polybius’ remarkable insight into the human condition. Although, for Polybius it might have just been fancy rhetoric for the sake of driving home his point, the quote is quite popular among modern readers, as is evident from its presence in many “quotes” websites (and indeed, even in places far removed from Classics… such as in tonight’s episode of Criminal Minds). It speaks so succinctly about that, arguably, most human condition called Guilt. Guilt is a very useful emotion – without which, one’s essentially a sociopath. But too much guilt can be equally dysfunctional, and can lead to a downward spiral that results in one committing even more mistakes in order to somehow psychologically deal with the original guilt. After subsequent such spirals, one ends up pretty much building up layers upon layers that simply go compact… like sedimentary rocks. One doesn’t even have to suffer from a clinical disorder like Depression or Alcoholism or Substance Abuse to be well familiar with it.

Randomness Sept 18th

There are days when Canada’s paranoid by-the-book procedures when it comes to… pretty much everything drives me crazy. Today is not such a day.

I got an email on Thursday night that my parcel has been shipped and that it was expected to arrive on Friday. No problem, since I was planning to be at home on Friday, anyway. I waited the whole day for it to come, but it didn’t. I checked the Canada Post website and found out that there was an “attempted delivery” and a “Notice card left indicating where item can be picked up.” Hello… I was home? But, whatever. Sure, I have to pick up a big ass box from the post-office and walk all the way back, but I’ll live.

So, I went to check my mailbox for the Notice Card. It wasn’t there. Umm. That had never happened before and I wasn’t sure what to do in that event. So, I thought I’ll just show up at the post office with my ID and tell them that I’m supposed to pick up a parcel but I don’t have a card.

I did. The woman there told me that someone else had shown up to claim the box. So, apparently my Notice Card ended up in the wrong mailbox, and this person thought that he/she might try their luck with it and get a freebie. They even had the genius idea to take a 6-year old girl along (obviously intending her to be “me”) so that she wouldn’t have to show her ID.

Fortunately, that shit didn’t work and the post office demanded for a parent ID with address. This person promised to come back later. So, when I showed up also claiming the parcel, alarm bells understandably went up in the post office woman’s mind. She asked me to bring THREE letters with my name and address on it, as well as my ID. I had to come home, get the letters, and go back to the post office. I also had to fill up a few forms and stuff, but the nuisance was nothing compared to the RELIEF I felt. I realized that my parcel could have easily gone in the hands of someone else had a less stringent person been at the counter. There’s no way I’d get it back, and I’d most likely be sent through a lot of hell filing a complaint with Canada Post and then having to appeal to the seller to get me a second product.

Well, thank goodness for rigid rules for identification and stuff, coz there are obviously a lot of dishonest motherfuckers out there (how I’d love to know who this person was! I’d probably not do anything evil to them… well, except, poison their cat and stick pins into their voodoo dolls).

So, now I’m wondering whether I should still file a complaint against Canada Post (maybe not officially, but… isn’t there someplace else where I can rant against them?). There wasn’t any loss to me (thank Goddess!), but there could very easily have been, and I don’t think the carelessness of these delivery guys should be overlooked.

Never let me go

Just minutes after I saw the shocking news about Ellen Page playing the lead in the next adaptation of Jane Eyre (so I’m a bit late in my Hollywood projects grapevine — sue me), I came across one of her upcoming projects, Inception, by Christopher Nolan. Here’s the trailer:

According to Warner Bros., it’s

a contemporary sci-fi actioner set within the architecture of the mind – link

This is apparently a review of the script of the movie. The reviewer’s practically creaming his pants in praise of the movie, and seeing as he describes it as a much improved product of what The Cell attempted (and I quite liked The Cell, btw), I’m sufficiently intrigued. Hell, any movie with the two words “sci-fi” and “mind” in the same sentence describing it is enough to pull me in. Besides, the movie has both Marion Cotillard and Ellen Page in it – and I admit, I’ve wanted to see them in a movie together ever since the pre-Oscars roundtable thing they did.

However, as good as Chris Nolan can be with mindfucking thrillers, the Memento director also made that Hollywood sell-out The Dark Knight; and Inception looks like a box-office panderer along those lines, if the Holy Matrix rip-off! teaser is anything to go by. So, I’m going to be merely cautiously optimistic.

Anyway, from Ellen Page’s page, I landed on Keira Knightley’s filmography (doncha just love IMDB?). One of Keira’s upcoming projects is Never Let Me Go, adapted from the novel of the same name written by Kazuo Ishiguro (whose Booker prize-winning novel Remains of the Day was also adapted to the big screen). Anyway, interesting (and that is an understatement) thing is that I just finished reading the very novel last night, and now I come across this. Are ye Gods trying to tell me something?

Gotta love all the various synopses of the book (and even the movie), though, because they don’t even come close to doing the actual story justice. But, hey, surprise is good stuff, right?

Speaking of surprise, I did get quite a bit of that when I saw the casting for the movie. Not anywhere near the “Page is playing Jane Eyre” kind of surprise, but surprise nevertheless. Among the relatively unknown (but by no means untalented) cast, Keira doesn’t play the lead heroine, Kathy, but instead plays the snotty, Queen-bee type Ruth (note: Ruth does have a substantial part in the book). Kathy is played by Carey Mulligan, who I’ve only seen playing very un-Kathy like characters such as Kitty Bennet, Isabella Thorpe, Emily Pritchard and Ada Clare. It’ll be interesting to see if she can carry off the role of the introverted and introspective Kathy. The cast also has Sally Hawkins – no idea what she plays, but I’m guessing it’s ‘Madame’. If she is, it will be another point of interest, since this is also a very different role from what she usually does.

I would have said that the book is rather unfilmable because most of it is carried via the narrator’s thought processes, and unless we’ll be getting excessive voice-overs during the movie, it’ll be difficult to portray the essence of the movie. Then again, Remains of the Day ended up as a very successful movie, so under a good script and director (and definitely, most definitely, very good acting) I have no doubt it can work. If the movie, and every one of the cast and crew, can capture the pathos in the book, I sniff some Oscar attention.

That said, the Oscars are also traditionally very sci-fi-shy, so who knows if they can look past the “clones” bit?

ETA: While writing this blog post, I was also searching for the song mentioned in the novel — “never let me go” by Judy Bridgewater. However, I find out it’s a fictional song by a fictional artiste created for the sake of the novel. So I was in tears again, because the author truly made it sound like such a beautiful song. But now I’m cheered by the fact that maybe – most likely – they will have whoever’s the composer for the movie adaptation to actually write this song in!

The Daytime Emmy’s Ode to Otalia

I watched The Daytime Emmys. The things Otalia makes me do this year. The Daytime Emmys!

Anyhoo, my primary thoughts after watching the 2-hour ceremony:

Is it just me or was the whole thing kinda… weird? Are the Daytime Emmys always this rushed? The announcement of the nominations were so brief it was almost laughable. If they knew they were going with limited time, they should have come up with a more creative, time-saving format. Instead, it was a hodge-podge of detailed clips, undetailed clips, and no clips, alongwith abrupt cutting away into commercials. Half the time I couldn’t even catch the name, it went by so fast. The Bold and Beautiful (that won for “best drama series”) people didn’t even get to say their acceptance speech. I mean, how silly is that? What was so important on CW they had to show tonight that they couldn’t squeeze in an extra hour for the ceremony? Oh right, re-runs of Supernatural.

Then there were awkward broadcasting/editing errors, as well as some of the presenters looking like they had received their speech script seconds before coming on stage. The camera kept panning to the same people over and over again. They could have shown a little love toward the Guiding Light section, which I wouldn’t have known existed had I missed Jeff Branson’s win. None of the Guiding Light castmates were in the “fashion show” thingy either — not that they lost out on anything spectacular.

Speaking of which, what the flying fuck was with the Guiding Light tribute? I’ve watched the soap only 4 months (and only on Otalia days), but even I found it highly offensive. Hell, I’ve seen better Youtube fanvids than the “montage” they prepared. Really, whose puppy would have died had the organizers sliced off 30 seconds from Vanessa Williams’ dance, and dedicate that time to giving a proper farewell to the longest-running soap opera in history? I didn’t even want a speech (though, a speech would have been nice; Sesame Street people got one, and they’re going to be back next year), but surely a few more close-ups of the cast wouldn’t have been a problem. Vanessa Williams is great, but this evening wasn’t about her.

That said, I did like the opening song she did. Can’t take my eyes off you never gets old; Vanessa’s rendition was reasonably funny, and I’ll admit, I loved that Otalia was the front-and-centre couple in it. It came as a bit of a surprise, since of all the various popular supercouples on the other soaps, they chose the newbie, same-sex, albeit ridiculously chaste Otalia I think they added Otalia to introduce Ellen to the song (“I know Ellen approves” heh), but hey whatever. I loved it. In addition, I noticed Otalia was featured prominently in the montage too, significantly in that part where the voice-over says something about the soap adapting to “changing times”. So much for the “no labels”, eh?
I found it funny that both times they used the scene with the kiss-that-wasn’t-really-a-kiss; not their fault – it’s the only clip where these two are being remotely couple-y; probably the only clip ever. If that doesn’t strike home the fact that Otalia is trapped in 17th century standards of obscenity, I don’t know what will.

Ellen looked so disheartened when she lost out on both the nominations. Portia was comforting her, similarly tearful. That’s how we know we’re watching the Daytime Emmys, folks.

The only “win” I liked tonight — okay, fine, the only one I recognized (other than Jeff Branson, that is) — was Tamara Braun’s. General Hospital was the first soap I watched. While I didn’t last long into it, I was very impressed by TB’s portrayal of the neurotic, over-the-top Carly. Years later, she landed up in All My Children. Her stint as the Reese to the Breese was… disastrous to say the least, but I did put up with a few episodes solely because of her.

In an otherwise bleh ceremony, I did enjoy the rare GL cast portions –  Kim Zimmer and Robert Newman as presenters, the shot to Marcy Rylan when they sang something about “mama”, EJ Bonilla and Daniel Cosgrove when their nominations were announced. The highlight for me? Crystal Chappell and Jessica Leccia. Aww!

Otalia will be the death of me. I can’t wait for September 18th when I can go back to that state of blissful ignorance of all things soap.

Corsets, brooding aristocrats and lots of horseback – Part III

This is the third instalment to my Part I and Part II I wrote last year. Even if my leisure time has been rather… *ahem* occupied elsewhere this summer, I still managed to watch more period pieces than last year. Nice.

 

Woman in White (1997)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0137279/

I don’t know if it’s the grainy VHS I watched, but the production values looked very poor to me. Now, I can quite forgive glaring low budget quality, if it’s off-set by a good script and good performances. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case here.

The “mystery” was yawn-inducing at best. The forced gothicness of it all was too overdone and cliche. I haven’t read the original novel, so I don’t know if the adaptation was faithful or not, but judging solely based on what I watched, the plot was hardly well developed. While it did rest on a logical enough premise, the narrative just didn’t work. I am quite disappointed to watch James Wilby, who was so brilliant early on in his career in Maurice, reduced to playing these golddigger types. Although, admittedly, he does have that snobbish good looks thing going for him. This was Justine Waddell’s first TV role, so I won’t fault her too much. She did look appropriately naive. The best part of the miniseries has to be Tara Fitzgerald. I liked that confidence she brought into the character of Marian, and the protectiveness she felt for her half-sister. The part when Marian visits the newly married Laurie, but the latter ignores her and her subsequent distress at it was quite heartbreaking. Andrew Lincoln’s portrayal of the artist Walter reminded me of his character in Love, actually and not in a good way.

Grade: C-

 

Tess of the D’urbervilles (1998)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0126100/

I’m not a fan of Thomas Hardy novels, and even less so of the adaptation of his works (the painfully dull The Mayor of Casterbridge comes to mind), so I didn’t watch this one with very high expectations. That could be why I actually ended up thinking it was actually pretty good. Justine Waddell was much better here. While she is naturally girlish and innocent-looking, she also embodied the tragedy that was Tess’ life. You feel her pain as she goes through one disillusionment after another in life. Hardy is definitely all about the virtues of labor and industry, and in Tess he finds the perfect long-suffering heroine. Alec D’Urberville is more sympathetic here than in the novel, partly due to Jason Flemyng (and his roguish good looks working in his favor), and the writing. Other than his overkill attempts at seduction in the beginning, I didn’t quite understand why Tess was so repelled by him (before the “rape” that is), and conversely why she was so smitten by Angel. I’m sure I’m not the only one who sees feminist criticism in this story, whether Hardy intended it or not, particularly in the plot with Tess and Angel, and I think that aspect of it came off well in the adaptation. Angel’s douchebaggery is very much present and forms much of the reason why this makes for such a sad, unfair drama. In addition, the whole outdoor shooting thing was a refreshing change from all the high society manor sets we’re used to seeing in period drama. It was green, bright and very… um… English countryside. And, oh, I LOVED the main title theme. So much that I went through the trouble of ripping it off the VHS and then transferring it to my computer.

Grade: B-

 

The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby (2001)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0253312/

Charles Dance was probably the only reason I watched this adaptation; that man plays evil SO well. I don’t think I’ve watched him play anything but evil, and even if it’s almost the same role again and again, he just has that imposing stature to make it very convincing. Probably because of that, I found his character most intriguing, and some dim optimist part of me wanted him to redeem himself in the end. After him, I was impressed by Lee Ingleby, who does well making the character of Smike sympathetic. By the time I watched this miniseries, I’d gotten quite tireed of the cartoony villain cliche present in most Dickens’ adaptations – this time it was the whole Squeers family and I couldn’t stand their story. Then that highly annoying WTF? thing with the Mantalinis.

The major problem with the miniseries was that the main character, Nicholas Nickleby, was just bleh. He’s your typical earnest, idealistic hero, but there was not an iota of chemistry between his character and that of any character dear to him – be it his mother or the girl he falls in love with. He was just so nice that there was nothing interesting about the relationships he formed, barring perhaps the one with his sister from the tiny scenes they shared, and I think I would attribute that to the wee bit more interesting character of Kate and Sophia Myles’ portrayal of it. Speaking of that, I truly enjoyed Sophia Myles, and would have liked to see more of Kate, particularly in relation to her Uncle, because he does show glimpses of being human with a heart where she’s concerned (strangely enough, I found out that Myles and Dance started dating after this miniseries -– huh!). I also really liked Diana Kent’s performance of Mrs. Nickleby; her character reminded me a bit of Mrs. Bennet, in that she’s similarly dim-witted and impressed by show of power and wealth.

Grade: C+

 

Our Mutual Friend (1998)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0144727/

I generally DON’T enjoy the love stories in Dickens’ works. They almost always feel like a “I have to add romance to sell my books” type compromise, rather than well developed. That being said, I thought Our Mutual Friend had two wonderful love stories, primarily because those are the main focus of the writer. I particularly loved the plot with John and Bella. I like these secret-identity type storylines and the conversion of their mutual contempt for each other into a strong attraction was well done. Anna Friel was amazing as the feisty and strong-willed Bella, who wants to go out into society, wants to enjoy the finer things in life, but finds herself falling for a common clerk. I’ve only seen Steven Mackintosh in those weak-spine type roles (The Amazing Mrs. Pritchard, The Other Boleyn Girl), but in this adaptation, his reserve, his dorky attitude, actually was most endearing, and thus the “opposites attract” chemistry worked for them. They are both flawed creatures with a tint of darkness within them, who become better people because of each other.

On the other hand, Lizzie Hexam is the Dickensian character who suffers from the “she’s so good she’s boring” syndrome. However, Keeley Hawes does work with the script to make Lizzie enjoyable to the audience. That is aided, I’m sure, by the love triangle in her story. On one hand, she loves Eugene Wrayburn, an old-money wastrel who cares for nothing and no one until he meets her, and on the other, she is desired, most creepily and obsessively, by her brother’s teacher. That said, Headstone is not your comical villain character (see above), but handsome, distinguished and the unfortunate victim of a severe personality disorder. I also liked the portrayal of the relationship between Lizzie and her brother, an obnoxious and self-righteous twat who cares not two bits for the sister who had sacrificed so much for him.

I don’t know why, but the subplot concerning Riderhood and Mr. Venus bored me to tears. I appreciated all the “greed is evil” preachiness, but like in TLANN, I wasn’t too fond of the caricature in the villainy here. And they weren’t even watchable in that funny/interesting way.

 

Grade: B-

 

David Copperfield (1999)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0167872/

The first part was extremely enjoyable to watch, primarily because Daniel Radcliffe makes for SUCH AN ADORABLE CHILD ACTOR.

He just has this cherubic innocence about him. It’s also why I was instantly attached to his character, David, and felt dearly for everything he goes through. From the close bonds he shared with his mother (Emilia Fox) and housekeeper Peggotty (Pauline Quirke), and you could really feel the strength of attachment in both those cases, to the sheer terror he must have felt for his evil stepfather, Murdstone, and Murdstone’s rather repulsive sister. I’m particularly sensitive to child abuse, so seeing sweet, poor, can-do-no-wrong David being oppressed in that way broke my heart a little. We also had the benefit of the presence of Maggie Smith, who plays his most hilariously eccentric but goodhearted aunt (years before Harry Potter met McGonagall on screen) and Ian McKellen (Gandalf!!) as the cruel headmaster Creakle in David’s school-from-Hell. I also enjoyed that part where David goes to spend a few days with Peggotty’s family. We get that pricelessly cute “Ground dead, Mr. Peggotty?” scene. That kid was destined for stardom, I have to say.

The second part with the grown-up David wasn’t as interesting, but still quite watchable. The romantic plot concerning David was of a mere mild interest, especially since it paints David as a bit daft and Agnes as someone who clearly deserved much better. I also thought the Rosa Dartle/Steerforth/Emily doomed triangle was far more compelling, and would have liked it if the adaptation had delved a little more into the dark and twisted relationship between Steerforth and Dartle, the disillusionment of Emily, etc.

Grade: B

 

Coming up next: Pride and Prejudice (2006), Rebecca (1997), The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (1996), Little Women (1994), Sense and Sensibility (1995), Middlemarch (1994)

Khamosh (1985)

I didn’t want to write my regular Flixster review for this because there’s quite a bit I want to write about it, and I already feel my Flixster reviews go longer than is normal.

Khamosh is a whodunnit in the tradition of Agatha Christie – a party of people, a murderer in their midst, an outsider who comes in and solves the case. In the “keep the audience guessing” department, the movie does succeed. I was surprised at the revelation. This movie proves that it’s not the SFX or cutting-edge editing softwares or snazzy cinematography that a good thriller makes. A good thriller requires an artful building up of suspense, which means no unnecessary item numbers, no extraneous subplots that do not add anything, no insipid comical scenes, none of those additional items that only end up distracting. The contrast between Khamosh and Bollywood thrillers was particularly glaring for me, as I had watched Bhool Bhulaiya – a movie made twenty years later, with a higher budget and a director who has more than two decades of experience in his cap – the night before.

The movie’s writers, however, don’t make it all chills and thrills, because one of the major pluses in the movie was the character ensemble. Amol Palekar, Shabana Azmi and Soni Razdan all play their own namesakes (I won’t say “playing themselves” because, well, I have no idea if that’s what they actually are like in real life, and Soni Razdan doesn’t get killed… after all). Azmi plays the strong-minded firecracker who dares to voice her disapproval when the crew all snicker like a bunch of frat boys during the shooting of a rape scene (an allusion to the rape of the hero/heroine’s sister — a staple trope in Bollywood movies of the ‘70s and ‘80s). Sadashiv Amrapurkar is most amusing parodying a Bollywood director, especially when he modifies and changes scripts on the go. Ajit Vachchani plays the sleazy producer and implies to the casting couch in the industry. Sushma Seth is your “mother of the Bollywood heroine” archetype who wants to live vicariously through her daughter. I liked how Naseeruddin Shah’s character wasn’t a know-it-all and he often jumps to the wrong conclusions fuelled by the anger he feels at his sister’s death.
When I watched the first couple of scenes of the movie, most of the actors seemed unknown to me. That was until I checked the IMDB cast list. Suffice to say, I had a few shocks. Sudhir Mishra (acclaimed director of Hazaaron Khwahishein Aisi, Chameli) played a bit role as the DP, Michael – apparently, him, Kundan Shah and Vidhu Vinod Chopra were (are?) all good friends; Pankaj Kapur (probably most popular for the titular role of Karamchand and being the father of actor Shahid Kapur ) played the drug addict brother of the producer; Deepak Qazir (who was the Basu patriarch in the Balaji soap Kasautii Zindagii Kay… or however it’s spelled) played the CID officer in charge of the case. Then there is Pavan Malhotra (who is quite recognizable to those who were watching Indian TV serials in the ‘90s, and he also played Tiger Memon in Black Friday) who plays the suffering boyfriend of Sushma Seth’s character’s daughter. Virendra Saxena, who plays the scriptwriter Shukla, also used to be a familiar face in the Indian TV circuit in the ‘90s. And now I feel old.

If the setting of a film crew shoot, three of the actors with their own names, weren’t enough to show the meta-ness of the film, the director also pays homages to two Hollywood classics – The Godfather (Shabana’s character reads the novel) and Psycho (a well-executed thrill moment where the movie’s shower scene is playing in the background and the audience expects a similar conclusion for Shabana). In addition, I really loved some obvious flashes of creativity, such as Shabana thinking on her feet and pretending to be sleepwalking, the discovery of Ghulam Hassan’s body and the hilarious discomfort Shabana had to face because of that. I’ve just realized this now — this whole paragraph seems to be about Shabana. Hmm. The director certainly had a favorite. And so did this particular viewer.

** Major Spoilers Follow **

Not to say there weren’t any problems with the movie. The biggest I can think of was that whole shooting of Dayal scene. From what I recall, the police and Bakshi were just behind Dayal, so how could they not see Kuku wasn’t the one who fired the shot? In addition, even if the scene where Amol chases Shabana had a few edge-of-the-seat moments, I wasn’t impressed with the cliche-ness of it. The woman chancing across the killer (by spying on him RIGHT WHERE HE CAN SEE HER, no less), then not even utilizing any of her acting chops to buy herself some time but instead simpering like your typical victim, and the hero coming in to save the day. I’m beginning to think it’s a trademark of Vidhu Vinod Chopra – he starts off with an excellent movie, but then probably runs out of creative steam and just picks one of the typical Bollywood cheesy ending. I’ve seen it happen in Eklavya, Mission Kashmir, 1942 A love story, in his production Parineeta, and now here.

The best wedding video. E-e-ever!

Aw. How flippin’ cute!!

Strangely enough, I’ve been thinking about weddings a lot these days. And BAM! I came across this video. It’s a sign.

So, for my wedding… I WANT!

A little thought about Poetry

I just finished watching Wit, which was a brilliant movie, btw. Of course, particularly interesting was the portrayal of the “scholars” – a very well-respected English 17th Century poetry professor, played by Emma Thompson, and an ambitious young clinical fellow, played by Jonathan M. Woodward. There’s a nice little not-so-subtle commentary on the ivory tower sort of life these scholars live, detached and almost clueless about humanity and human connection. But anyway, this post is not about that.

 

The movie made me think about poetry, and made me revisit a question that has always nagged me. Why doesn’t poetry appeal to me? Poetry is usually dreamy, emotional, evocative – all attributes that should totally attract me. And yet it doesn’t. It’s not that I hate poetry, but I’ve never actively sought out to read it. I’m much more interested in reading a 600-pg novel, even though I have the attention span of a gnat, than a 10-line poem.

 

And I think that’s it. The length. Poetry is too short. I don’t just mean short in terms of how many lines are in a poem, but I mean more in its sense of… economy of words. It just seems very condensed in its narrative. It’s very momentary in its focus, very particular in its feelings. I think it’s because I have the attention span of a gnat that this short thing just flits by me. It doesn’t have the… narrative meat to hook me in. I need to read a story, but poetry tends to be more topical; it’s like essay in verse. I have not gotten around to reading epic poems, which I believe are more story-ish in its form, in their entirety, though.

 

I think it’s also why I prefer a TV series or a long miniseries to a movie (assuming a TV series is of the same quality as a movie, which it often doesn’t, but that’s another rant). A movie feels too short and incomplete for me. It’s like just as I begin to find the characters fascinating the movie ends. Also, because I usually lean toward character-driven fiction, a TV series is more satisfying in that regard because it has the time. Well-written ones usually trace out an intriguing history arc for its characters, which a movie doesn’t have the time to. Often times, a character’s history is hinted at or told to us in expositions in a movie, and almost always it feels rushed to me. But to drive to the point of it, a TV series simply has more narrative meat than a movie for me to sink my teeth into.

That evening was something strange

Sometimes I think my life is destined to be a series of short stories. By that I mean – I have these moments when I experience such a profound connection with someone or something that it feels like tasting drops of water with my parched tongue. But those moments are brief and transitory; when they are gone, they leave in their wake only a sense of sorrow, like that of a loss, and a futile longing for a repetition of what was only a chance occurrence.

But of course, it never comes back. Only memories remain, until they too fade away with time.

 

Don’t take me wrong, though. I’m grateful for those moments. They hit me all the more hard because they are unexpected. They are all the more cherished because they are rare.

 

The following song is dedicated to that particular night of my life. I was actually supposed to help her, but I think she helped me. I don’t know who she is… I don’t even know her name. But I know she’s out there somewhere and our paths crossed for a few hours that night. Even if that was it, even if our lives move away never to meet again, I am glad for those few hours.

 

 

 

(A little background about the song before I go on to the lyrics. It is from the movie Khamoshi (Silence; 1969). While the Psychology student in me pretty much cringed my way through the portrayal of psychiatry in the movie, I absolutely fell in love with the music. The soundtrack was composed by Hemant Kumar nee Mukherjee, one of my favorite Bollywood composers, and this particular song was sung by him too. Of particular note is that this was one of the first projects of songwriter Gulzar, who of course, won an Oscar last year for Slumdog Millionaire’s “Jai Ho”)

 

Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi

That evening was something strange

Yeh shaam bhi ajeeb hain

This evening is also something strange

Woh kal bhi paas paas thi

She was close by yesterday

Woh aaj bhi kareeb hain

She is near even today

(repeat all)

Jhuki hui nigahon mein

In her lowered gazes

Kahin mera khayal tha

There are thoughts of me somewhere

Dabi dabi haseen ek

A subdued beauty, she is

Haseen sa gulal tha

Like a beautiful color.

Main sochta tha mera naam gunguna rahi hain woh

I used to think she was humming my name

Main sochta tha mera naam gunguna rahi hain woh

I used to think she was humming my name

Na jaane kyun laga mujhe ke muskura rahi hain woh

I don’t know why, but I can feel she is smiling

Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi…

Mera khayal hain abhi

There are thoughts of mine now

Jhuki hui nigaah mein

In a lowered gaze

Chui hui hassi bhi hain

There is a touch of smile

Dabi hui si chaah mein

In those subdued shadows (?)

Main jaanta hoon mera naam gunguna rahi hain woh

I know she is humming my name

Main jaanta hoon mera naam gunguna rahi hain woh

I know she is humming my name

Yehi khayal hain mujhe ke paas aa rahi hain woh

I believe that she is approaching near

Woh shaam kuch ajeeb thi

That evening was something strange

Yeh shaam bhi ajeeb hain

This evening is also something strange

Woh kal bhi paas paas thi

She was close by yesterday

Woh aaj bhi kareeb hain

She is near even today