The Girl on the Metro

It was the time of year when the post monsoon heat is waning, giving way to the earliest signs of winter. One could feel a very slight nip in the wind as the sun went down in the capital. It was late in the evening, when most have reached home for dinner with the family, and some would already be settling on the couch for the primetime shows. The evening metro rush was over, and now it was filled with the crowd-haters, the ones who leave their offices late just to avoid the rush. It was a fairly empty train, and a fairly minor station. The few who got off had already scurried off towards the stairs leading down to the exit. She was probably the last one of them.

She was wearing a black top and a long, white and pink, creased skirt, a blend of the east and the west. Her hair was short, with just the little bit of styling that would make one look elegant, but not draw attention to itself. Her hands were bare, but around her neck was a single black thread, with a small, silver pendant hanging from it. A small bag hung at her shoulder, the kind that would be just enough to carry basic necessities. Not too small like the ones the big brands make. And not big like the ones that those who like to carry their world with them indulge in. She walked confidently. She clearly knew where she was going, though she wasn't even looking up. It was evident why she was the last one to get off at that stop. Her head was bent down. She was reading a book.

The book was a white paperback, an average sized novel. Fiction, definitely, he thought, for she seemed oblivious to her surroundings. It must have been an engaging book, and clearly she was appreciative of that, judging from how engrossed she was in it. And yet her steps were sure. She was dusky, and a slight outline of kohl accentuated her eyes, which looked intently into the book, which she held in both hands, not wanting to let go, nor wanting to harm its spine by stretching it too far.

He first saw her walk past the open doors of the compartment he was in. She must have been in the next one. He was leaning against a pillar, holding a hand-rail hanging from the top. All he got was a fleeting glance, but instantaneously, almost instinctively, he straightened up, and waited for her to appear again as she walked past the window. It took a fraction of a second, and in that moment, his thoughts went from all the times he had felt there was no such thing as fate, destiny bringing two people together, to all the movies that so emphatically claimed otherwise. He remembered a blogpost he'd once read about dating girls who read, and how much he felt he agreed with it.

He knew what he had to do. Which was surprising, because he would never know, around girls. But it could not have been more perfect. In a movie, all he'd have to do would be go up to her and say "Hi". She would look up from the book, the background scores would rise to a crescendo, and the camera would go around the two of them in circles. They'd just stare into each other's eyes. A moment of pure connection.

He took a step towards the door, eyes still glued to her, as she walked past the next window, her back straight but head bent down, still reading.

Peepli, Change and Karma

I saw Peepli Live recently. Produced by Aamir Khan, brilliantly written and directed by Anusha Rizvi, it stars Raghubr Yadav along with other quite unknown, quite talented actors.
The film is about farmer who loses control over his mortgaged land when he fails to pay his loan installments to the bank, and then contemplates suicide to get the compensation promised by the government to families of farmers committing suicide. The whole incident blows up into a national issue, due to the media frenziedly covering it, and things at the local level turn into a mela around the farmer's house.
The authentic feel given to the village, the excellent portrayal of the media and the dry, sometimes dark, humour were commendable. Owing mostly to its former-reporter director, and her journalistic experience in villages, it was natural that all details of these aspects were well taken care of.
But this is not a movie review post. I am writing about the movie because of the reaction I had after watching it, and how uncomfortable it made me, as an Indian. Each one of us, at some point, has faced problems that we blame on the big bad world, the attitude of people, the government, or the attitude of people in general. This was another movie that made me, as an Indian, very uncomfortable. We see such movies, laugh, maybe empathize with the theme for a while, discuss them, write about them, but ultimately, what changes?
I first had this feeling after watching Rang De Basanti. Although not a big hit, Delhi 6 furthered this feeling. 3 Idiots was another one, although the message here was intended for parent, and it did hit a few. Now there's this film. (I'm definitely missing some here). My point is, although these movies reflect society, as any piece of art should (art is supposed to be educative and be pleasing to take in, as I learned in an Art and Aesthetics course at IIT), what is the long term impact these movies have? People go back to as they were. If we do not change even when the required change that is needed in us is shown in such a direct and pointed way, what will it take to change us, as a people? How can we change ourselves to become unanimously and proactively engaged in improving ourselves, our society, our nation? In an interview, the director Anusha Rizvi herself pointed out that nothing will change after Peepli Live. The movie will be taken at face value, and things will continue to be the way they are.
There are people who are actively engaged in improvement and bringing about change, doing the little they can, which is huge at the local level, but a small speck seeing India as a whole. India Today ran a special edition recently commemorating 35 such "heroes". Yes, I know boond boond se sagar bharta hai. But the drops have to keep pouring in. And I know if I really care, I should do the same. But what is it that makes us so apathetic to this? Is it because jab tak mere ghar tak problem nahi aaye, tab tak mai kuch nahi karunga attitude? Is it because we dont want to get our hands dirty?
I was also reminded of another, more philosophical, thought that I've discussed with a few people before. Is caring about the fellow human being our moral responsibility? Like taking care of the handicapped, the old and disabled. If we look at the larger picture, as the human race, does it do us any good to do so? We say animals are animals because they're wild, sometimes cannibalistic, and have little or no sentiments or emotions. But who's judging humans as a race? Who is to say that the human thing to do is to be caring and supportive of the disabled?



Rajat, my partner in crime such discussions, suggested quite a good solution to such moral and emotional crisis. Karma. Although to accept it as a way of life is purely upto the belief and faith of an individual, if we analyze it, it does make sense. If everyone starts doing good, believing in the adage that give once, and you will receive ten times that, it will actually come true, assuming, on an average, we have 10 interactions with people around us.

Hanging On

As I prepare myself to meet probably the closest, biggest and best bunch of friends I made at college, I cant help but wonder when it would be that I would meet them again. I would meet some of them regularly, some occasionally, and some rarely. But probably not once will I ever meet all of them together, at one place.

But, as everyone says, ever so wisely, life is about moving on. Is it?

I met an old friend today. No, this is not a story of how nice it was meeting him after such a long time. We`ve been in touch. Times have changed, man. People don’t lose touch now. It’s the internet, or the cheapening phones. Anyway, so I first befriended him in Class 1. We were thick ever since. He was probably quite opposite to me. Much more mischievous, more talkative, more popular as we grew up. We were in and out of being best friends, but never completely lost touch. Today, he`s one guy I discuss girls openly with, rant about stories I never thought could be interesting and enjoy his stories that even seem far fetched sometimes, from his off shore trips. He`s in the merchant navy. The thing is, I cannot hear a word against him. I feel proud of him. He`s not perfect, hell he`s not even close. But I hold him dear. The friendship feels like something that’s mine entirely. I`ve earned it. No one helped me with it. And that gives me a sense of achievement. At least I did this much on my own.

I like hanging on. I hang on. To my old friends. To old memories. I love reminiscing. I remember random stuff. I guess its that kind of stuff that makes an impact on my brain, which is what creates the memories. And I love remembering it. Even as early as end of second year, I was reminiscing about first year of college. By the time we were in fourth year, I had discussed so many memories of first year that it was like yesterday.

I don’t think life is about moving on. Of course, we have to, since time travel seems pretty undoable. But unless that happens, we are only forced to move on. Life, is about hanging on. New stuff is created only by the culturing we`ve had from our past. I do not know what the future holds. I would like to. It would give me a sense of security, a sense of stability. The past gives me that. I like hanging on. I don’t like going through the rituals of making a new friend. I like my old friends. Its easier. Its more comfortable. And I can easily remain in touch. As I grew, I only liked certain kinds of people. Older still, and I liked only certain traits in certain people. I realised I`m becoming typified, and limiting myself. Its looked down upon, as if I`ve become complacent and opposed to change, and of course change is inevitable and all. But just for once, I say lets celebrate this complacency, and hang on, and feel all nice and warm inside.

To all my friends, may our friendship grow old with us.

Citizen Power

I was in Pune recently, and my family and I were heading towards the popular Sinhgad fort. It was around 7:30 p.m. The road leading there is a two lane one, with barely room for a third car to pass. It was Sunday evening, and as expected, we met with a lot of traffic. A new resort was being inaugurated, for which local politicians seem to have been invited, and their jeeps and cars were causing quite a jam. We managed to go through to the other side, only to be informed that the road leading up to the fort closes down at 7 p.m. Somewhat disappointed we came back, and found that the jam being caused by the resort was now quite a long one, with both lanes of the road being occupied by people going the same way, leaving no room for the oncoming traffic.
We stopped the car, and me and Dad got down to see how far the jam was. A quick glance was enough to make it clear that it needed some good traffic managing to get out of this bottleneck. We decided it had to be us. We told my Jeeju, who was driving, not to let more cars join the lane of cars on the wrong side, and then went ahead to the focal point of the jam - the entrance to the resort. A lone guard was trying to manage the vehicles of the VIPs, what with the parking space of the resort already quite full. A few other people were trying to direct a bus through, which was causing the most delay.
Rolling up our sleeves, me and Dad set about directing the people on the wrong side of the road to clear the way for the bus. At first people co-operated, seeing that the bus needed space to clear out. But as we went about it, it was sad to see the narrow minded attitude of the people, who failed to see the larger picture, and only cared how they themselves could get through.

The main problem arised due to the situation depicted here (seen from top). People had lined up on the wrong side (like car B) which was blocking the way for the bus and cars behind it to move, and similarly cars had lined up on the opposite side, blocking both ways. The way out was to make car A wait, let car B enter the correct lane, making way for the bus to pass, and others to follow. It would be quite simple, if only people had a bit of common sense. The person driving Car A would argue that he has been stuck in the jam for more than 30 minutes now, why should he wait more for car B to pass when it was car B which was in the wrong lane. What Mr. Car A did not realise was that if he would let car B pass, it would take them both less time to clear the jam, than to have his own way and get stuck again further. And this would happen over and over again. It took us extreme patience and persuasion to get them to see reason, which in some cases, didn't happen at all and Car A would still move ahead, blocking the way again. What surprised me was how stubborn people could get, and fail to see reason even when it stared them in the face. To make matters worse, people on two wheelers would squeeze into any space they could find, and cause further blockage. They had to be individually directed into the correct lane, and told to wait. At the back end, Jeeju was having a tough time making people join the correct lane, and not line up on the wrong side. Why almost no one had sense himself to do so seemed a rhetoric question to ask.
Finally, the silver lining showed itself, as more people got out of their cars, and helped out in directing traffic, speeding up the process. After about an hour of this went on, the jam was finally cleared and we could move on.
I learned a valuable lesson that day. Though often heard, but seldom seen practiced, and never personally experienced, the point was that one cannot always blame others, even though they may be wrong. Taking things into your own hands is better than sitting and complaining about why no one is doing anything. It felt quite a bit like the TOI ads (Hum chalein, to Hindustan chale....) where people are shown doing such things, like move a fallen tree out of a road. What happened that day showed me what is meant when people say that India`s true power lies in its masses. When we collectively and actively realise this, is the moment when we, as a nation, will truly progress.

District 9

Science fiction meets humanitarianism.
The film revolves around a man who unwittingly becomes the centrespot of an alien relocation program. 20 years back an alien ship came and just sort of hung over the city of Johannesburg (a refreshing change from the usual target New York). Humans, pokey as we are, probed into the ship and found malnourished and rotting aliens inside. A million of them. A district was created for them to live in, but it was poorly funded and turned into a slum. Complete with riots, gangs, black gangs and warlords.
The aliens, referred to offensively as prawns, were becoming difficult to contain, and so the big evil corporation handling the issue, conveniently named Multi National United (MNU) (UN reference?) decided to relocate them. MNU, by the way, is also the word`s largest weapons manufacturer. But they require the aliens consent to do so. So the head of MNU, assigns his overeager son-in-law, Wikus van der Merwe (from his accent I`d say he was Irish-Australian), a simple and honest guy, to go around in the dangerous District 9 to collect the signatures of the aliens. Little does he know what lies ahead.
He becomes part of an alien`s plan to escape, unknowingly confiscating the all powerful fluid that the alien had collected over 20 years. He gets sprayed by this fluid in the process, which begins his slow and painful conversion into a prawn. As he is hunted by dollar hungry scientists who want to sell his parts for experimentation, he ironically finds shelter under the roof of the very alien he was trying to evict. They must now get the fluid back from the clutches of the MNU, which is after them with all their might.
The main character, Wikus, played brilliantly by Sharlto Copley, is a typical victimised hero running from the big corporation, trying to reach out to his love, who is fed lies by her father. The prawn, named Christopher by Wikus, is also a creature one grows to identify with, who tries to save his people, the aliens, from rampant massacre by the scientists trying to de-code their genetics. His association with his son gives the viewer more reason to sympathise with him.
The film is well shot, with many elements that engage the audience. The whole narration is in retrospect, with experts narrating the story as if it were a documentary on the whole incident. They add their own comments to the narrative, a convenient medium used by the makers to give information to the viewer. Like the fact that the MNU was evicting the aliens only to be able to raid their homes and get their hands on their advanced weapons. Which they do, but to their dismay, the weapons recognise DNA of the holder, so can only be fired by a prawn.
Another element that is usually not found alien films is the perspective of the alien. They almost make you sympathise with the prawns, cursing the do-gooder MNU for forcing them out.
However (Spoiler alert) the part I liked most was the conclusion, or rather, the lack of it. It was reflective of the real world handling of such issues. The big corporations get their way by sheer brute force, neglecting the very banner they hide behind, humanity. And everyone is left wondering whether it is a victory they should be celebrating or not.
Imdb rating - 8.4. Top 250 - #93.
Worth a watch.

Silhouettes

I love silhouettes, specially if the backlight is from the sun.
After a little touching up the colors really come out well. Like here, the orange looks brilliant with the black shadows in the foreground.

A thousand words

Some pictures can say a thousand words. And some can say some more. :)
This one's a view from the top of Sameer hill, IIT Bombay campus, at 6:30 ish in the morning.
Had gone there to see the sun rise and the effort was totally worth it, and much more.