Sunday, February 25, 2007

Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi (2003)

I saw the movie the third time today. A very disturbing story with strong and flawed characters. Since movie review is not my forte, why then do you ask, I talk about this movie now? The character Geeta Rao.

There are three main characters in the movie. The story starts in a college, set in 1969. Siddharth an ideologist, becomes a rebel and tries to fight the corruption in Bihar. Geeta (Geeta and Siddharth are college sweethearts) is committed to a life of passionate extra marital affair with Siddharth. Our sentimental lover Vikram, loves Geeta throughout his life and never gets over her.

While Vikram dominates most of the screen time, he churns up a charm with everybody around him, except with Geeta. As he himself admits, near the end of the movie Vikram is "gaining power and money at an alarming rate". Geeta after losing contact with Siddharth after graduating from college, has a failed marriage with some guy and then spends time in rural Bihar (considered to be the most lawless state in India). She shares Siddharth's passion for development of India at the grassroots. In the mean time, Siddharth turns into a extremist and is hunted by police. Yet he occasionally spends time with Geeta and has a son.

The movie shows the horrors of the 1975 Emergency. I will skip that part of the movie, nevertheless, it is worth a separate blog post by itself.

All the three characters, seek their object of interest with unwavering sincerity, dedication and love. Geeta's love for Siddharth is only for his ideologies. Near the end, Siddharth renounces his ideologies and joins a medical school, Geeta does not find living in the wild, fair for her child. Our sentimental fool, Vikram is brutally attached my corrupt policemen when he tried to help Siddharth and is left mentally handicapped, yet loves Geeta.

Geeta, finally sees how much Vikram loves her and she begins to take care of him. It was relieving to finally see Vikram in Geeta's arms even though Vikram may not ever realize this.

Thinking about the character of Geeta, why? I can understand her love, and why she did'nt find Vikram attractive when he was potent and capable, but found her love in Siddharth. She stuck to her guns even after she gets gang raped by the police because of her proximity with Siddharth.

But why did she suddenly chose to take care of Vikram after he is disabled? Is she unable to bear her guilt in being almost completely responsible for Vikram's troubles? Or is it just pity-love?

It almost brought me to my tears. Was'nt she cruelest everyday character that we see in our lives? We girls fall for the funny and the handsome, the alpha-male, and care a damn for the truly devoted guys. Why is that a rebel always looks more attractive to me than a blue collar worker? Why is the socially inept loved less than a glib talking pervert? This is always a bane on the woman with a choice. A woman always lives with the guilt of always breaking someone's heart.

We women always want something that the guys will never understand. If only they were smart enough to know that we are stupid too!

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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

This feels weird

I am back from my operation and looks like I might live for a while now :) Btw, Appendicitis is quite painful. That is taken care of now. I am back to blogging which I left without a trace.

I should have probably asked Pratap before I wrote this, but since he gave me complete freedom to write about anything under the sun, here are my two cents. I thought of a million things to write... writing is not a problem for me. The problem was the place. Whatever I could think of was out of place. Maybe it was just me, but if you were me, you would understand.

It is as simple as this "I do not understand this blog." Pratap has been writing this blog for about 3 years now. I did not know him when he started this blog, but I have seen some of his earlier posts which have been long deleted.

They were short, simple to understand. He was almost always angry at somebody. They were cute white pure truths, though. Then there was a shift, which is when I came to know him. His blog suddenly became cryptic. I thought he was needlessly nervous. He developed a strong sense of privacy. He kept reminding me of a private sphere and a public sphere. He stripped every new blog idea of his identity, but struggled to keep the individuality and creativity. His struggle could be seen here. Later he himself wrote in his post, "life's experiences will not become a blog-side accident to be rubbernecked".

Then suddenly, he chose to be funny, and dropped his arrogant style. His English had improved overnight! At once, he had many readers. It looked as though he was waiting for something to happen, and then decided to become funny. He had found a way to write, without giving himself away. Due to this, his blog is completely different from what he is. And, now I too believe in separating the personal sphere from the public. But, I do not know how to write like that. It is hard.

While I am still thinking about my dilemma, here is another thing that I do not understand: Someone sent me lots of roses, for the Valentine's Day without the name! Yay! I would love to know who sent me the flowers!

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Friday, February 16, 2007

Tell Tale 15

Who is this guy?

She answered my question with "My favorite is Wodehouse, he is so funny!"

I started reading when my one of my friends introduced me to Sydney Sheldon. It was my first big break from cartoon comics. I used to read Chandamama and it was in Tamil. Until I was 10 years old, I had never read any story that was more than a 10 pages long. I started with Sidney Sheldon, and they were good. Simple stories to follow. I was also excited to read about how the woman kisses and makes love. Loved "the rage of angels". Still love it.

Then one of my friends ridiculed Sheldon and suggested somebody else. It was Wilbur Smith's "When the lion feeds". They were African diamonds from one burning coast to the other. Many teenage trips to a continent that I have not be able to make even once in reality. I could not make up my mind if Wilbur Smith was a better writer than Sheldon. I was later introduced to Joseph Heller, Anne Frank, Jhumpa Lahiri, Ray Bradbury, Thomas Hardy, Heinlein and got lost along the way. Still pretty random at selecting an author. So, I still have not read every famous author and many classics.

Coming back to the the lady on the other side of the phone, she was a new acquaintance. For weeks I was so busy trying to impress that I was skipping niceties.

The first week, I called her cell phone and after customary pleasantries, I started the real conversation: who is your favorite author?

It was a bad question to begin with, especially when I was already well aware that she knows a lot more than I do. The scale was tipping heavily on her side.

She: "My favorite is Wodehouse, he is so funny!"

Who the hell is Wodehouse? Is he a "he"? Is he good? Must be, she has been reading a lot lately and must have a good taste. Does this Wodehouse write contemporary stuff? is he a Pulitzer or even a Nobel? because if he is any of I that, I am doomed! How dare I ask such a question? Is this Wodehouse still alive? man!

The way she was talking about this Wodehouse, he seems to have a cult following. How lazy of me to not read a single Wodehouse book! Damn my high school friends, if only they had been classy, they would have given me a Wodehouse instead of a Harold Robbins!

I googled for Wodehouse quickly.

Me: I hate dead white English writers. Bloody imperialist bastards. Except of course the Bard (meaning Shakespeare, As though I have read all of his plays.)

She: (Mostly falling for the Shakespeare part) Wodehouse is very funny, he even make fun of the Britishers, English elite mostly.


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Monday, February 12, 2007

Quite the opposite

I apologize to my readers for my inevitable leave of absence from active blogging. I am back and I am sure that is what matters to you all. I will try to post regularly, hopefully more often than before.

I had pristine experiences in the past month, each worth a separate post. Nevertheless, ever since I decided that my life's experiences will not become a blog-side accident to be rubbernecked, I will stay discrete. However, I will try to continue to try to be as funny as possible, in a disinterested or rather implicitly self-effacing style. I will also inevitably contribute to my blog, a healthy dose of spelling and grammar errors.

I recently came to understand that, my blog defines my character and all that represents Pratap. I have also been reminded that I cannot filter out my style, character, feelings from my writing without making my blog completely unreadable. I am told that, the ghost of my blog would come and bite me in my ass. That being said, I imply no warranty of soundness to my words.

In other news, unfortunately Aarti my co-ENFP, had been down with bout of illness requiring an invasive procedure, and is apparently getting better now. I hope she gets better soon.