Time of love

The clock hung in my mind
Is wound to tell our tale
The hands are moving
Digit after digit
Marking the path of time spent
The clock is ticking
The clock is ticking…

The bitter birthday cake

The baby had completed a year and his parents wanted to obviouly mark the occassion with a lot of fanfare. So, a gathering of almost 200-300 people was invited.
The kid obviously had no clue about the whole fuss. He suddenly was surrounded by a large gathering all wanting to be the ‘me-first’ to pull his cheeks to show their love. The kid with his tiny button eyes could see bulbous noses, rotund faces coming towards him to maul his rosy cheeks. Frightened, he started howling, bawling and hid in his mother’s bosom. The mother kept pulling up his face to entertain the crowd.
I was just one of them.
Somewhere else, the little birthday girl in the month of May or June perhaps was getting restless because of her frilly dress.
Her grandmother had shaved off her hair just a couple of days ago. The father was obviously not excited about guests meeting his daughter for the first time with a bald pate.
So, he had dressed her up in a frilly, fairy sort of pink dress and coupled it with some strange lacy hat that stayed on her head with the help of an extremely irritating rubber band stretching under her chin, ear to ear. The kid was obviously losing it and she raised a cry and kicked the cake away.
The birthday party went for a final toss with the father losing his patience and walking out in resignation. The guests disbursed.
I was just one of them.
Happy Birthday babies Obviously it was meant to make you feel special. The court of the jesters ended up making ragged clowns out of you but hey, it was meant to be different than the rest of the days.

Spring on the window

The mist was gliding on the window pane,
Little wild flowers had burst on the creepers.
I smelled the musk of fresh romance…
…that exists only in thought.
I looked at the yellow flowers with their mouths open.
I watered the creeper and shut the window.

Milk – Boiling Hot

This is not exactly a review on the film Milk but a small note on the experience pre, while and post the film.
A couple of weeks back, in a newspaper I read about an upcoming film called Milk. It was a two line brief with a small picture of Sean Penn. I found the name ‘Milk’ quite strange for I had no idea this title is based on a real life character called Harvey Milk. But for some reason the word ‘Milk’ struck a chord (in real life I love milk – the drink I mean) and I decided to watch it whenever the film is shown in India.
Fortunately for me, my friend saw the film before I did and gave me a stupendous response, so I set out to watch it.
Harvey Milk on whose last 8 years of life this film is based upon is a gay activist. This film is about his short political journey, but also this film is about acceptance and love.
The first scene where I saw Harvey Milk kissing his boy friend Scott, well, didn’t put me off, for I am open to people in gay relationships but it did seem strange. Scott played by James Franco is such a masculine, good looking man that the urge to see him caressed by a woman is definitely more than seeing him kissed on the lips by a man.
And yet, two three scenes into the film you start accepting the man-man relationship quite comfortably. The affection with which Milk cleans Scott’s wound, or the way Milk cooks a special meal for him seems like a perfect domestic couple and beyond a point their sexuality does not play hindrance to a viewer’s sensitivities.
The political journey of Milk is extremely engaging. You want to cheer for him because here is a man not fighting for gay rights alone but also asking for social acceptance denied to him for being “different”. And you want him to win because all he wants for himself and others like him is to be allowed to live the way they want to.
Sean Penn won an Oscar for his performance and he so much deserved it because his mannerisms and easy smile simply transform him into Harvey Milk. Unlike in our very own films, his mannerisms are never over the top but his effeminate side is completely painted over him.
After my friend and I walked out of the theatre, a heated discussion started over why in India nobody ever dares to truthfully pick up issues in films. Why do we have a ‘Dostana’ as our icon gay film. Why no mainstream actor never takes up a role like this.
His grudge, dismay are all understandable but perhaps not valid. India is a country with people of fragile sensitivities. We have our morals, parents, society as well as conscience to answer to and that makes for a formidable set of people and emotions that stand as barriers to creative freedom of film makers.
One will have to empathise with Indian film makers when you have examples like Anurag Kashyap whose first couple of films never saw light of the day. The man who is being hailed as the ‘Experimental Director’ today is the same man who received flak for ‘No Smoking’. Critics trashed him for being self-indulgent then.
A country where in 80s the lobby of mainstream actors crushed the parallel cinema wave simply because one after the other a Naseer, a Shabana, a Pankaj were taking away one award after the other from right under their nose; where a Shekhar Kapoor strikes big with Elizabeth and never ever finds an Indian subject to interest him; where a British director wins an Oscar for capturing India the way world imagines it to be…there surely is every reason to empathise with the Indian film maker.
C’mon, Dustin Lance Black and Gus Van Sant waited for the 8 years to make this film and this film is not about today. Its about 70s…its taken 30 years for someone to speak up for this minority.
Working out of the system is actually quite easy. I guess to make a great film within societal constraints is surely more challenging.
I am sure 30 years on, India will have lot to say…

The Reader – Love on Trial

You may choose to watch ‘The Reader’ for different reasons.
Hitler turned around the fate of Germay twice over with his entry and exit. Germany did become a power to reckon with while Hitler was there but once his downfall began, it was a monster who was not dying soon. The monster would haunt Germany for generations.
‘The Reader’ takes you through the mind of a young boy’s love journey which he traverses but perhaps never arrives.
Michael has a torrid but brief affair with a much older woman Hannah. What initially looks like a couple of sexual encounters; is actually a love odyssey which will stay in minds of both Hannah and Michael for lifetime.
Hannah played by Kate Winslet is Michael’s love interest for a summer where before every love making session, she wants Michael to read out to her. The beautiful love making scenes brutally snipped by censor board in India surely make you want to hit them on their head but there’s more to their love story and so you stick around.
Hannah makes an abrupt exit of Michael’s life to return as a war criminal being tried in a court. When Michael comes to know her past, she so conveniently had kept him out of, he’s devastated.
The turmoil in him led by shame, guilt and pity is beautifully expressed by David Kross as young Michael and Ralph Fiennes as the older one. Kate Winslet puts up a convincing performance of a woman who does not realise the gravity of her actions.
Stephen Daldry gives you a love story in the backdrop of a war trial. Although there’s not one scene which could give you a peek in the war or the times, but the trial…it looks as if will go on endlessely.

Going back to The Revolutionary Road

One would wonder what could possibly take you back to a film again and again. And the answer to my mind is this. Like a foolish child who keeps opening an empty fridge to check if next time he opens it he might find someting to eat, the viewer in this case keeps looking for some kind of a resolution to his problem.
The Revolutionary Road, a film about a couple in their 30s is bored of their life and they hope to find happiness in Paris. Philosophers and spiritualists will tell you how happiness is elusive, this couple has everything going for them and yet they are unhappy.
I am not sure if this film mirrors my life but their quest is something that’s scarily real. One would wonder why April (Kate Winslet) with a loving husband and two adorable kids would want to find a way out.
You would equally wonder what keeps Frank (Leonardo Caprio) in a marriage where the wife doesn’t love him more than the dream she cherishes.
But isn’t that how normal young couples are? The monotony of a marriage sets in and the promise of greener pastures lure them. No one knows where they lie but somewhere you are convinced there is a better life which is not in the present for sure.
Two scenes which always take my breath away – April dancing with a friend when her dream has fallen through. She is dancing to get the dream out of her system. The gaiety of the dance moves are only a facade. Behind lies a broken, anxious, restless soul which quite like her dream wants to break out of her body.
The second scene is towards the end where Frank is running on the Revolutionary Road. He’s lost all that he saved for a better tomorrow, his dark present like a storm is staring him in the face but he just can’t face it.
Today was the third time I watched this film. I still hold my sympathy for both April and Frank. She dreamed of a future that may never have turned out the way she imagined. He lived a present which he knew isn’t working out but still he toiled to make it work.
No one was wrong and yet there was no resolution.

Vanishing

I was warm and nice in the glory of scotch
When you called to say you had found love atlast
I gulped down the last drops of sunshine
Empty glass and ice clinking hollow pits of my heart

Yellow Rose

I had met her in her vanity
She was applying mascara
Her eyes fluttered when she caught me looking at her
I smiled sheepishly and she pouted
Her rosy lips suggested a kiss never meant to happen
I caught a glint in her eye
Not sure if she liked me too
But I heard her laugh
When I called her a yellow rose

At the parlor

Hello girl, sitting at the parlor
Do you have some time?
Can we talk about your miseries
Over a glass of wine?
I have an evening to spare today,
My girl ditched me tonight.
Is your story same as ours?
Or are you a lost kite?
I see, you talk easy with men,
Well, good for both of us.
Come let’s raise a toast to those,
Who befuddled our lives thus.
I know, I love my little girl
But let’s just pretend tonight,
You and me play lovers for dark,
And part with the break of light.

The Wilting Leaf

I saw a yellow leaf browning at the tip,
Cold wind caressing the stem.
As I bent to pluck the leaf,
A thorn pricked the tip of my finger.
I stared for a while at my hurt and the wilting leaf…
Guess its best left alone.

Breaking Waves

The sun shines over the yellow sea,
The iron ship takes anchor on the shore.
As I stare into empty space
I hear the wind chimes of yore.
You and I had strolled into the alleys of youth
But walked out so much older.
We stand today on the verge of breaking waves,
Together, yet alone and colder.