time-travel over lunch

Discoveries made over lunch time today:
1. I like ripe kiwis.2. J and I both love clementines. While she will jump and cry for them, I am happy to patiently peal the next one.

3. Some things don't change at all even if you look back at them after weeks, months or years. While watching the wedding album today with At and J, I recalled the happy and the not so happy moments as if they happened just yesterday.

4. A happy meal is biryani or pulao with cucumber raita.

5. I like children. A lot.

6. Babies think spectacles are toys. It is difficult to make babies think otherwise.

7. The one person you can hug completely unselfconsciously is your mother.

8. Missing breakfast can give you a heavy head for the entire day.

9. When its grey and dull outside, a warm quilt and a cup of jasmine tea do you great good.

10. I like sunshine and miss it when its not around. Like today.

The scarf continues to be the number one preoccupation. Don't know if I will be able to meet tomorrow's deadline, but I sure am trying :-)

project_ribbed_scarf

As mentioned to T last week, I intend (hope is more like it) to finish knitting the mauvish-purplish scarf by the end of this week. That leaves me with four days and I am less than half way through. hmmm... tough one. Looks like there's no time to waste. Fingers crossed! And needles too!

A brief glimpse of what life is going to be about for the next few days.

taare zameen par

A much awaited directorial debut, the story of a child, simply told, simply felt. I went without any expectations whatsoever to see this movie. Infact I was clearly avoiding seeing this one, if only to prevent any disappointment. I came out of the cinema a convert of sorts. In the battle of the Khans I have carefully avoided sides so far. Not anymore. Aamir rules.

I loved the movie. Every tiny amply criticised bit of it. Even the now infamous picture book that almost every review I have read has lashed out on. I must confess that I see a movie as an audience, and not as a reviewer, and I always look at the final product and the impact that it leaves on me. For me, it is more often than not, a matter of connection with the medium of cinema, an emotional involvement. I dont understand technicalities, but if a director is making an obviously honest and good attempt, I will help him take me where he wants me to be in order to appreciate what he is trying to get across. In this instance, I fell for the fascinating attempt to present the world from a child's perspective, the enchantment with roadside views and the comic book driven imagination. And perhaps Aamir has played to the crowds (the ending was so about the way out, things can be alright if we care enough and so on), but I think every tear drenched handkerchief in the cinema hall was silently praying for some good hindi-movie miracle to come help the little boy. How many people identified with dyslexia? Perhaps a few. But how many identified with the bit about stifling a child's creativity, the pressure to succeed at all costs? Everyone. We suffer and then we make our children suffer, because thats the only way we know.

Taare zameen par touched a chord with everyone in my family. Everyone overlooked the fact that not all Ishaan's of the world will have a happy ending, but then, sometimes I think, a movie like this one needs to end positively to help us believe in the power of caring enough. A brilliant first attempt Aamir. Good job done.

marketplace finds

Yesterday was a day of many firsts. One of the more interesting ones was the first solitary trip to the marketplace in the last three months. And I enjoyed it thoroughly. When you are by yourself, you can visit places that you are most interested in, like the bookshop, the haberdashery, the tea shop and the crockery section of the home store without your irritable companions either politely sulking or loudly complaining. The manifest purpose of the trip was to pick up a gift for a baby we were visiting last evening, but I ended up treating myself to some very interesting finds.

While loitering about the home section, I came across some beautiful teapots, ivory with multicolor polka dots. While I fancied one for myself a great deal, I moved on. Just as I resisted the temptation of the teapots, I found myself surrounded by the most exquisite crystal candle holders. It is indeed remarkable how some of them are moulded to such breathtaking shapes. Unicorns, ducks, roses and sea shells, you name it and you could have a candle holder in the shape. Charming I say.

Moving briskly along, as I admired the new patterns that Cath Kidston have come out with in dinnerware, I found the most interesting objects ever - super large mugs outlining interesting highlights of different sports. So you have a rugby mug and a football mug. I was fascinated by the cricket mug which had the cricket pitch, some critical rules of the game, anecdotal facts and figures, and history of the game. I had to have one for A who I knew would love it!

Just as I was about to leave, feeling proud of my exceptional find, I came across the solar system mug, hiding behind the music mug! Its got the whole solar system on it, vital stats for each planet and, bless it, even includes Pluto as one of the planets! A little old fashioned and quaint piece of history never hurts! It was then decided that the cricket mug would have a companion in the solar system mug!

A good first day on my own in the wide, wild world of the high street!

new beginnings

What is it about all things new that we go all weak in the knees, warm in the heart and fuzzy in the head? New beginnings are like a nice newly baked chocolate cake. The excitement about the prospect of having that cake is greater and more fulfilling than the actual eating of the cake. And a few spoonfuls down the line, you even begin to wonder, what was all the fuss about anyways? Just think about the new year's eve party. All the excitement of getting the perfect dress, the drama of the preparations, the actual mad partying, the heady rush of the countdown, the stolen kisses, the passionate embraces - all about the intoxication of a new beginning, a new year. As if by making a song and dance of it we can actually will the future to be a melody.

I have been sent flowers for a new beginning. They are indeed lovely and the entire house smells wonderful. But that is exactly what my problem is. Such lovely gestures, the dull sense of mild freshness in the air, the feeling of being by something delicately beautiful, it fills your head with a a sense of blurred joy, a hazy happiness, something you cannot put your finger to. Its the sense of contentment that comes from the message that the flowers and the new year party and the chocolate cake are meant to signify - the message of all good things yet to come. They build expectations where perhaps none should exist. I know I will be killed for overanalysing this but don't expectations always come crashing down and havent we always learnt never ever ever ever to expect anything from anyone?

Now that I am already on the walk way to the guillotine, because A has asked me not to think about this and this is precisely what I can't stop thinking about, I would like to lay down another bit of lose thread to this web of common thoughts. Following on from what we just discussed, would it be logical to suggest that the bigger the song and dance, the bigger the drama and consequently the greater the expectations, the steeper is the fall? Taking the negativity a notch higher, would it be safe to assume that the moment you see an effort being made to project a glorious new beginning, you can safely run for your life?

hmmm. As is plainly visible, I am deducing all things bad and doomed from a lovely bunch of roses. hmmm. Last I checked roses were good things. Maybe this has all gone wrong. Lets write another more positive blog. Maybe this time it can begin with 'I just received the most wonderful bunch of roses. I am so looking forward to this new venture.'

Meet the Robinsons

An animation movie with a futuristic twist. Not my usual cup of tea. Or so I thought. Of late though I have seen a few animated films that suggest the days of fairytales and mickey mouse (as much as I loved them) are behind us and they have been replaced by slick, cutting edge, life-like animation. Meet the Robinsons is a message movie that lets you arrive at the right conclusion yourself. I am assuming the target audience is school going population thats struggling to deal with failures and negativity. The movie is about learning from mistakes and moving on. A lesson that could get preachy but stays fun and fast in this time-machine drama.


I also liked the curious element of villany in the film. The bad guy, or in this case the hat is controlling the bad guy, is actually an invention of the good guy. Ideas are not good or bad, it is what we choose to do with them that makes them either. A heartwarming movie about taking ownership of your life, making your decisions and living to see the very happy everafter.


A quick word for animation quality of today. It is unimaginably brilliant. I saw 'Cars' a couple of months ago and was absolutely blown away. The concept was brilliant and it was brought to life by some truly exceptional imagery on screen. And of course, we all know about Shrek.


Meet the Robinsons is a good movie for all ages, especially growing children who are still learning about choices and making those choices. A tad slow on the take off though, or maybe that was just me nursing a terrible hangover...

what modernity is not

It is 2:45 am in the morning and it is safe to say that I am stone drunk. I know because when I laugh, I can’t stop laughing, and when I am annoyed, I just cannot move beyond that very annoying feeling of having been annoyed.

Does this happen to others too, that when they are drunk, somehow things are clearer than they have ever been? As if its just a matter of blurring the vision a bit, taking a step back and the hyper activity a notch lower. It’s almost as if I am a third person, watching the unfolding theatrics. I noticed this feeling, of crystal clarity when smashed, during my first pubbing session in London. I remember as well as if it happened just hours ago, that conversation about different elites in society with A and R over a game of snooker and many glasses of wine. I remember thinking, I have never thought this well, this precisely and this thoroughly about social, political and cultural elites before.

So exactly what is modernity? What does it mean to be a 'modern' person, with an open mind? Is intellectual refinement equivalent to modernity? Can modernity and social norms ever go hand in hand? Is it possible to be liberated and polite in a gathering at the same time?

I have debated and discussed several times over and over again with myself regarding this. My background of feminism and political science makes is difficult for me to overlook some details minor to others but essentially significant to me. The position of women in society, in the household and in relationships has been something very close to my heart, since perhaps even before I knew what feminism meant or stood for. The private is political debate has shaped the way I look at everything from movies to apples and oranges. Over the years, however, I have made a buffer of peace with myself that allows me to 'live' without agonising over every grueling tiny technicality. Sharing every moment of your life in a partnership with a man, working as a team towards common goals has helped rationalise these 'adjustments' in life, which I sometimes feel are nothing but symbolic of greater personal maturity and acceptance of a less than perfect reality.

It is in this context that I find the increasing trend of justifying blatant bad manners and a lack of decorum in the name of modernity, feminism and the right of self expression utterly unacceptable. And all of this emanating from the self-consuming unshakeable belief that some people have that they are always and in all contexts right and the other person before them is just one damn fool character. Since when did abusing your spouse in public for minor, inconsequential things become a matter of freely expressing your opinion, without any compassion for your spouse’s feelings? Why do we feel that we can unashamedly tell another person on their face about how stupid we think they are in the name of friendship? When did guests stop behaving like courteous, grateful friends and started taking their host's kindness for granted?

I believe that we are justifying many a foolish and clearly unpleasant words and actions in the name of modernity and boldness. Cleaning the kitchen has nothing to do with subservience and power once you and your partner have decided that it is only and only about keeping the kitchen clean in familial interest and both shall strive towards that goal. If the only way in which you can communicate with others, including your family, is to let them know what you think is wrong with them, then clearly there is something very wrong with yourself in the first instance.

Hence my increased sense of irritation today. My point is this, I am all for changing with the times, but I don’t believe that we have to necessarily give up on being civilized human beings for that. We can be nice to each other, say thank you and please, smile a little, help around a bit, and still have a healthy difference of opinion while respecting the other person’s right to have a divergent opinion. Why must we always say, I am right and you are wrong even though I don’t care about understanding what you are saying? Should we not be becoming more instead of less civilized as the days go by?

Politeness and good manners are almost relics of a bygone era. Aggressiveness is the attitude of the times and you are a loser if you are not ready to kick some serious butt at every possible moment in life. I am disgusted and disheartened with this attitude, in more ways than is possible to elaborate. Perhaps those who claim others lack sophistication and culture need to take a serious look in the mirror and then kick some serious self-butt.

Bournemouth

Last weekend we went to Bournemouth. It turned out that as is expected, the met department made some useless assessments and what was to be a grey and wet day turned out to be a bright and sunny one. Perhaps even too sunny with the sun shining mercilessly into A's eyes as he drove for over a hundred miles to get us to the coast.

It was worth the one and a half hours of negotiating with winding traffic. The beach was beautiful and I was surprised to see such a vast sandy shoreline. We stood and admired the Atlantic for a while and then hurried into the Oceanarium, which boasted an underwater feast for the eyes. Not exactly what I expected it to be, it was a small-ish assortment of sea creatures, almost like a very big aquarium. Perhaps we had set in our minds some very high benchmarks, ie, Underwater World in Pattaya, Thailand.

After what felt like a very short trip in the Oceanarium, we came back to the real thing, the ocean. Bournemouth apparently is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the UK, with a vast sandy coastline and almost continental weather in summer. But this winter Saturday in January, it looked almost deserted. There were almost no eateries on the seafront and the pier closed at 4 pm with little else to do. The sea still looked beautiful and we sat and admired the passion and determination of a handful of amateur surfers who waited patiently well into the freezing waters for the elusive wave to hit the shore. I'm sure their body suits protected them but what about those open faces?! Surely that was the best recipe for some frozen eyes and noses!

Since everything 'touristy' was closed, we decided to walk on the seafront. It was a very pleasant and relaxing walk and each of us, armed with our respective packets of chips, quietly walked by the sea. What is it about seas and mountains and rivers and large expanses of sandy deserts that makes us switch to the thinking mode? I thought about everything, work, home, family, the scarf I am knitting, the muffins I intend to bake, the new year and all its possibilities. And all seemed manageable, with the sea where it is supposed to be, the sand in its right place, the wind blowing at the right pace and A's hand gently resting on my shoulder, not holding, not pushing, just there - assuring. Yes, everything felt manageable.

A recent survey claims that Bournemouth is the happiest town in the UK. The official Bournemouth tourism website sites several reasons for that, including seven miles of golden beaches and award-winning gardens. I am not surprised. That city has a happiness bug in the air. I got infected last weekend, and I am not complaining!

reading in candle light

This is intended to be a post about why I like reading, but I have not thought this through and it could go just about anywhere. I can't remember when I first picked up a book, or when the reading bug bit me. My earliest memories of reading are sitting in the balcony in the chilly Delhi winter mornings reading nursery rhymes, or sitting on the staircase outside the house, waiting for mum to return from work, patiently toying with new words like 'elf' and 'gnomme' and 'enthusiasm'. And then, during the long summer nights when power cuts were more frequent than DTC buses, reading Champak in the glow of the candle and refusing to fan myself because the light would go off. Somewhere between rushing to school and lazily getting back home, between power cuts and summer holidays, Amma's stories and learning math tables 'by heart', somewhere in the middle of all that, I fell in love with reading.

It could also be explained as a fetish for the written word. I like the seemingly endless permutations and combinations that sets of words make, creating a written language. I also like the rules that have to be followed, to make some coherent sense out of what could easily be a jumble of ksjdhfiuhfsaIUhgssJKGH. Its sort of like music, but silent. Its also like knitting, but easier. Perhaps those who understand the language of numbers would feel the same way.

Of late, I have ceased to think of reading as a solitary activity. I read with my lamp just as I used to read with and in the light of the candle. Sometimes, on dreary winter afternoons, a hot cup of jasmine tea with a teaspoon of honey and a couple of drops of lemon, the chair by the tall window, a cosy shawl on my lap (I wish I could say one that I made myself!), with my lamp by my side, I embark upon the happy pursuit of the written word. It is an exceptionally cosy feeling. Sometimes I read words, the careful layout of sentences that stand out, or the odd ones carellessly strewn about. Sometimes the moment takes over and everything around contributes to a pleasant afternoon. At other times, the mind is restless and words merge into one another without making much sense. But the lamp and the chair are faithful friends, happy for me to come back later.

At times like these, when the written word fails to grip and console, I take refuge in the orderliness of knitting. Knitting soothes ruffled nerves like nothing I have experienced before. I am a beginner in the art and still discovering its vast potential. One activity I find extremely gripping, is reading stitches on the needle - trying to figure out what it means for the yarn to be going this way or that. I am in kindergarten where knitting is concerned, but very much loving the leisurely voyage of discovery. Who knows, this might just be another love affair in the making!

The Fabulous Life of Amelie Poulain

Saw a magical movie today. It’s a French film called Amelie, and I remember it created quite a fuss at the time when it was released a few years back. A brilliantly made film, crisp and succinct, with just the right amount of emotion depicting the life of a lonely girl. This is not a movie that makes you feel sorry, for the heroine, or yourself. The narrative almost mystifies solitude, making every chance encounter, every brush with the world something to be observed and enjoyed. When Amelie dips her hands in the sacks full of pulses in the market place, I remembered the times when I went with my father to the kirane ki dukaan for buying monthly groceries and playing with heaps of rice and pulses in sacks. Her playful and simplified interaction with the world is very reminiscent of happy memories of childhood.

The color scheme throughout the movie was a sight for sore eyes. What an uplifting, positive color therapy for a dull and grey English afternoon! Despite the candy color scheme, nothing hurt the eye, or felt dodgy. I saw the movie in subtitles as French now is as good as Latin to me, so wouldn’t mind watching it again and keeping my eyes focused on the spectacular cinema. The slightly edgy and quirky art depiction brought the cobbled streets of small-town France to life and you almost felt yourself to be a part of the eccentric community. Audrey Toutou’s acting was just the icing on the deliciously bright cake. A must see, all the way.

First stop, Portsmouth

It was decided, after much discussion, that we need to start seeing the country of our residence in its everyday glory. The plan is to drive out to what has hitherto been just another point on the map and explore it with the help of the wonderful man-made device, the satellite navigation system. Our first port of call on this grand week-end-ly voyage of discovery was Portsmouth, the city of Charles Dickens and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Portsmouth, like many other cities in England, has great historic significance. Many a hero and villian have left England from this port. It also, apparently, has the privilege of being known as the most haunted city in the South East of England. The University of Portsmouth has an almost overpowering presence and the city appeared, at least to us, to be most definitely a university-town.

Given our limited time on the port, we decided to see the whole of it in one instance. This we managed by getting on to the Spinnaker Tower which has three decks from where you can see the whole city and a significant part of the southern coastline. The high speed lift takes you to deck one, which is 100m above sea level. The small glass floor in the middle of the deck was more of a disappointment and only served to keep obnoxious children occupied in their all consuming monkey-business. The views from the deck though were absolutely spectacular. The water below can only be described as a beautiful dark green. Seen from above, the coastline looked like broken pieces of a jigsaw and I only wish I had captured a better photograph of that broken coastline.

One side of the deck looked on to the sea and the other upon the city of Portsmouth. Portsmouth has been a base for the Royal Navy for over 500 years and many historic ships lined the shoreline. Further onshore, the Cathedral dating back to 1185 made for interesting viewing, as did the warships that looked ready for some serious action.

What we saw was a short and nice teaser, we intend to get back and explore the city at length another time. All in all, a good first stop.

old friends and new

I had lunch today with a new friend. I have recently met her, and instantly felt a warmth which comes from a friendly and welcoming smile. In a home far away from home, I have smiled at many, made many half friends, some good acquaintances too, but no good friends. Friendship was always synonymous with the names of some of those buddies who seem to have gotten misplaced on the way. For a long time, it felt almost wrong, like some sort of a betrayal to seek out others to fill their spaces.

We have started out slow. Its a new experience, talking to someone who you know is still figuring you out. I find myself talking and simultaneously distancing myself from the conversation, observing it as a third person. Someone once said to me that the most important thing you invest in a person is your time. Am I doing a good job of it? There is just too much pressure to get it right, and if not, to know that it is not right.

It was much easier when we were children, perhaps because we didn't think as much back then. Maybe thats why I decided to stop thinking and start living. And we chatted about old TV serials, card games and the books we are reading and the movies we want to see. And we cleaned the table after lunch, played with her baby and discussed holidays. The moment I stopped thinking, I started liking what I saw before me. That old, friendly, comfortable feeling of being accepted for what you are.

I got back home with a smile, drank a whole bottle of water, and called my oldest friend.

drumming aimlessly

So as this is the first day I am back to work after a long loooooong time, you would expect I'd be focussing. And not drumming annoyingly at the keyboard, making those irritating little tic tic tic tic tic noises that I myself can't tolerate. The thing is, it is supposed to snow today. And I reckon it is a perfectly legitimate excuse for not wanting to work... I have been waiting for it to snow since morning. And its still nowhere to be seen.

Its three in the afternoon and I am nowhere near my work target for today. hmmm... more drumming... hmmm... some more drumming.... After careful and prudent deliberation, I have decided that it is an effort in vain. I will have to finish the project later tonight. For the moment, its waiting-for-it-to-snow time. And a pleasant preoccupation it is.

ummm... by the way did I mention that yesterday I saw memoirs of a geisha, the movie? In the first instance, I would have to say that I liked the movie, my opinion of course not counting for much since I havent read the book. Secondly, I don't know how many Indians instantly made comparisions with Umrao Jaan like I did. How similar are the now lost traditions of Geishas and Devdaasis? Is it the lost patronage that led to the decline of these 'art forms', or was it increasing westernisation? Lots of questions cropped up but the movie still held its own. I liked the lack of drama amidst a clearly heartwrenching situation. I liked the very realistic depiction of the young girl's attempt to escape. The background score was very interesting too, though the accents of the characters provided a challenge, as I am sure indian-english movies provide to the south-east asian audience. All in all, a good watch.

Nope, no snow yet. It has started drizzling mildly, does that make a difference? Not being a climate expert, I shall not venture a guess. Its quite grey and bleak and depressing outside. How can anyone be expected to work under such pathetic climatic conditions?

hurrah!

So I have finally created a blog! Not that it will be in The Guardian tomorrow morning, but I am pretty excited! I am still getting the hang of this thing and there is plenty to figure out still for sure. The new year will bring some new rendezvous, I am hoping... So far so good.

This one is for you TS! Happy New Year!