Peddler of dreams...

This is also not an original title. It's a literal tranalation of the words Swapner Pheriwala, which is a Bengali film by Subrata Sen. So why am I talking about it?

Going back in time, I watched Swapner Pheriwala way back in 2002 at the Asian Film Festival held in Mumbai. It's a layered film that touches upon a number of things - love, dreams, superstitions, loss and magic. It's the story of this young girl Turni (played by Nilanjana Sharma), who was orphaned as a child. She lives with her grandfather and issueless aunt and uncle. Though her relations dote on her, Turni finds herself rather lonely and befriends Shome and Siddhartha. Soon she starts developing feelings for the free-willed Shome, but he is quite oblivious of it.

Things take a strange turn when a tantrik and his disciple come to Turni's house on pretext of improving things. Turni, who doesn't really care about them, is unexpectedly dragged into a maze of superstitions and sex. Shome and Siddhartha, however, come to her rescue and she's saved, untouched.

Now, that's about the story of the film. The best part of the film is undisputedly it's ending. The film talks about a magical moment in one's life that comes everyday. I think of this bit in the film very often. I stay up many nights thinking of the magical moment of the day. At times I find it, most of the times I don't. But I know for sure that there's a magical moment in every single day of my life. It could be in the majesticity of orange-purple sunset or the innocence of the sprouting leaf. It could be a phone call or a glance - but it happens. Everyday.

And today the peddler of dreams visited me. I bought too many colourful ones from him and stuffed my bags with them. They should keep bringing in more magical moments in my life for a very long time!!!

First love

... at four, it was a newly-sprouted bean plant
... at five, it was the blue school uniform
... at seven-and-a-half, it was Treasure Island
... at 10, it was the set of four ink pens
... at 12, it was torrid rainy nights
... at 13, it was my first-ever poem
... at 15, it was my first black silk saree
... at 16, it was Wasim Akram!
... six months later, it was cricket and Shahid Afridi!!
... at 17, I was too busy
... at 18, I was lost
... at 19, it was novels and Amitav Ghosh
... at 20, it was a rebellion
... at 21, it was my first love haiku
... four months later, it was my first image haiku
... at 23, I was disinterested



... at 25, I think I've had too many firsts to even list them.

On working on Sundays...

Dusting bookshelves, arranging wardrobes or the shoe rack and making my bed - that's just about it when it comes to me working on a Sunday. My first day of the week, otherwise, is spend lazing in bed for hours on end or going out on long walks or catching up with friends. Yes, the lazing on bed is never alone...






Ahem! It’s almost always in company of a book. Every two to three pages of reading is, at times, interspersed with dozing off for a few seconds, then jolting awake and getting back to the fragrant ink that I am so attracted to.

Today's work has been a little out of ordinary. I'm literally at work - in office - doing all that I do during the rest of the week. As I swipe in, I find the unusual silence around rather in my face. The office bears a sepia-tinted look. Suddenly it looks old-world and languid. Is this how offices look on Sundays? Like it’s a living, breathing thing, who’s taking a much-needed break.

Coming back to the silence, I almost welcome it within an hour of arrival. It is comforting to the extent that I don’t fret about working today. Work’s relaxed as we are not pushing a deadline. We are just ensuring that a special issue that we are bringing out in the coming week turns out as well as we are anticipating it would. And we are pretty much doing that, as hard as we can :).

The piece seems incomplete as I no longer have the time to update my blog. Work’s beckoning and Sunday or not, because I’m here today I’ll have to get back to it. So till the next post… (hopefully before next Sunday :) )

Well, I'm all painted... in yellow

There aren't too many times that scenes from current Bollywood flicks play peek-a-boo in my dreams. The last film that visited my other world was 1947-Earth. With due respects to Deepa Mehta's prowess, I still believe that the images in my dreams are not from her film, but from Bapsi Sidhwa's most brilliant book Ice-Candy Man (Cracking India). Nonetheless the film moved me and I still close my eyes, at times, to see Ice-candywala's (played by Aamir Khan) cold kohl-lined eyes look away as the mob batter Ayah (played by Nandita Das) and Lenny (played by Miah Sethna) screams on. Sublime performances, exemplary vision, flawless direction, ruthless betrayal or plain over-reaction -- I will never know what makes me re-run that scene in my head over and over again...

... till the time I saw Rang De Basanti last week.
http://www.rangdebasanti.net/

Rang De... attempts to present a long lost ideology to today's viewers (I insist it's for every viewer, irrespective of age). The film is about a group youngsters who decide to break the cocoon of their mundane lives and do something drastic, something revolutionary. They rewind in time and live a slice of our historical revolutionaries' lives by taking one step, which seems right to them, to avenge their friend's tragic death. They pay the price of their actions with their lives and that's where the movie ends...

... and my dreams begin. I can't forget Karan's (played by the intense Siddharth) haunting eyes, both while he plays the rich, brooding Mr Singhania and Bhagatsingh (in the docu-drama). The eyes that - are completely uninterested when DJ (played by Aamir Khan, again) and Laxman (played by Atul Kulkarni) fight, secretly admire Sonya (played by Soha Ali Khan), ooze passion while he plays the part of Bhagatsingh, unapologetic after he shoots the defence minister, shed tears when he's trying to take his father into confidence and smile with relief after he tells the nation about what they had done.

It's his eyes that I dream about all the time and keep wondering about the worlds we youngsters live in and don't live in. We are missing out on so much that we can do to undo certain things. By this I don't mean we become like our historical revolutionaries. What I am trying to drive home is the fact that we needn't be complacent all the time.

This film surely has shaken me from my presumed comfort-zone. I no longer want to be a mute spectator. I'd rather take one step to see if that can make a difference. And I am sure it does. One human step cannot shake foundations, but it can cause a slight stir. That''s what, I guess, makes the difference. It's like slight quiver that you experience just when you are about to be really scared...

I believe that the little quiver is enough for many be afraid, sit up and listen to you. Only that step can lead you to the bright yellow we call sunshine, which permeates everything and lights up the world.