It was pointed out to me today that all of us at the moment are nothing without our parents. I mean think about it, no matter how much we strive to get a life of our own, this particular ‘life’ that we talk about, would be kinda impossible if it wasn’t for our parents. So does this mean that we are essentially living their life? And does it also mean that we don’t have an identity of our own? The answer to both those questions is no. Though we owe our very existence and upbringing to our parents it does not mean that we do not exist as individuals, with a mind of our own and the will to do as we please. OK, that sounds very stubborn, so let me tone it down a bit; I simply mean that the life that is a gift from our parents, is in our hands to mould it in any way to create one of our own. Everything that we do is directed towards that end. We often hear of people going against the wishes of their parents and thereby hurting them. Although an inadvisable course of action, it sometimes becomes inevitable that we break free from the loving bonds placed around us. It is a scary proposition actually, because the minute we gather enough courage to say and do exactly what we want, we suddenly become our own person and not the one we were raised to be. There is no comforting cocoon then to soothe out the harsh contours of the big bad world out there. The day we can stand up alone with no one to hold us up is the day we can proudly say that yes we are our parents’ children, we owe them everything but this is the life that I have created for myself and that it belongs to no one but me.
As the IPL (finally) comes to an end, one can’t help but wonder how much more cricket one can digest. Don’t get me wrong, I am a huge cricket fan myself but a month and a half of non-stop cricket (Two matches a day, for heavens sake!) can take a toll on your mental health. Add that to the fact that the 20-20 World Cup is coming up, and you’ve got yourself perfect conditions for a nervous breakdown. OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but with good reason! And it’s not just the cricket that is endless, it’s the analysis, that begins an hour before the game and continues for god knows how long after the game is over, I mean have they heard of the word ‘overkill’? People just want to see a good game of cricket, with some classy shots and thrilling run chases, is that too much to ask for? Oh and don’t even get me started me started on the new craze for ’20-20′ apparently to attract the female population, it has in fact served to lessen my love for the game quite a bit. But no matter what I say, I will still be caught glued to the TV from the moment someone calls ‘heads’ till the time they declare the ‘Man of the Match’ and also avidly reading the next morning’s newspaper analysis of everything that went right and wrong in the match the day before. What can I say, you love it or hate it, there is just no escaping it (in this country atleast!)
Solitude: Painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity…
I read this quote in the Mumbai Mirror today and it got me thinking that it is not entirely true. It is ironical really that more and more youngsters stuck in the rat race of life crave solitude like the air they breathe while old men with enough of it on their hands yearn for the days when they had none. It only serves to reinforce the saying that I believe in: Be happy with what you have and not sad for what you don’t.
A dream, more real than anything that had ever happened to her, enveloped her subconscious, completely in control of her senses. She was falling, as if she were a feather, slowly, lazily with not a care in the world and certainly no purpose except to just be in the moment, blissfully ignorant of anything happening about her. The world around her was bathed in the colours of the rainbow and the sun shone in the brilliant blue sky. She fell gently, easily, with no path to follow, swayed by evn a whiff of a breeze. It was a wonderful feeling, unmatched by anything she had ever felt, so relaxed, so comfortable and so completely free. Her gaze wandered over the landscape below, a sandy beach dotted with coconut palms with the sea gently lapping at the shore. The sea gulls swooping about, children building sand castles, a couple of dogs snoozing in the sun, little red crabs scurrying in the sand, how peaceful it all seemed. If only she could stay like this forever, but alas she must soon open her eyes and find herself back on the ground and the bright colours of her dream fading away…
Yesterday, I saw a beautiful sample of Bengali cinema, although I was ill-fated enough to have to watch the Hindi version (no offense but I much prefer the Bengali language, it’s so much more soothing to the ear). Anyway, as the name suggests, the movie is all about resonance or in layman’s terms the matching of frequencies (or is it wavelengths I forget which). But that doesn’t really matter because the term is used strictly in the non-technical sense, ie, resonance of minds. The fact that warm and close relationships can be formed on the basis of meeting of minds and yet remain platonic is something that the film explores beatifully, through it’s central characters, Rahul (Rahul Bose) and Preeti (Raima Sen). Though married to different people, they come together based on their mutual love for literature and appreciation of the finer aspects of life. There is a stark contrast between their respective marriages; while Rahul and his wife are completely and utterly devoted to each other, Preeti is stuck in a house with a husband who remains forever immersed in the stock markets with no hint of companionship. It is for this reason that Preeti is very much of a cynic while Rahul brings with himself all the qualities of a vibrant life which she admires immensely. He shows her life through new eyes and dispels her notion that life always betrays us. But just when she is inspired to visit the site of his project in the Himalayas, to see for herself the beauty of nature as he had described it, tragedy strikes, leaving Rahul dead from a heart attack and their friendship is misconstrued as an illicit affair and Preeti is left to bear the brunt of it. What follows is a tragic fall from grace, with her husband abandoning her, her mother ashamed of her and society shunning her until she can bear it no more and resorts to suicide. She is saved however and asks to meet Rahul’s wife Noni who in the meanwhile has been floundering in painful waters trying to cope with her husband’s death. In the poignant final scene of the movie, sitting by Preeti’s bed in the hospital, Noni consoles Preeti and gives her hope to live again while finally accepting the truth of her husband’s death and breaking down herself.
Trouble, like Beauty is in the eye of the beholder…P.G. Wodehouse