It’s raining outside. The cool breeze is passing through my spine. The city must be so cold and wet right now. Peddlers must be running for shelter. The lovebirds must be flying to their nest. Some others must be grinning at their self. They just got wet and they are "lovin it". The roadside shopkeepers must be removing plastic sheets out of their hidden godowns. The pakoda walas would have just doubled their sales. Mother must be covering her kids with her dupatta. The kids must be drenched with the rain below her dupatta. Everyone must have become a part of this rain.
Every nook and corner would have been awaken by this chilling breeze but on the other end from me a girl just my age must have sipped the last drop of her coffee and shut her book to lie down on her warm bed. She would take her bed sheet and cuddle into it in sometime. A man, between his loads of work, would have looked outside the window of his air conditioned office for a while to remember the old days when such a downpour would be just the reason to rush to the nearest tea stall with his friends. A boy, not far from that man, would be trying to smoke the last inch of tobacco from his last wet cigarette. He must be thinking about his last blog on an old man who wanted to leave this mad world. Far from all this a small girl must have got her soap and towel to the terrace above her house. Her brother is already there with his huge bucket. They had awaited this season for a long time. Far in the midst of the concrete jungle a girl just the brother's age must be carrying her kid brother on her shoulder. She will be soon knocking on one of those huge cars to beg for a penny!
Every eye would have looked up to the cloud filled horizon at least once. Every drop would have been someone’s first drop of rain. Each flower would have blossom a bit more. Each tree a bit more greener, each street a bit more cleaner. It must be raining in my beloved city!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
l love you, city!
Is it premature of me to say that I am in love with a city? Yes I have a lover's relationship with a city. It was not love at first sight but eventually I started getting closer and from friends we moved on to became lovers. No there was no proposing and cocktails but there were endless chats, long sleepless night and excitement of being together. I find it hard to believe that something not living and breathing could catch my breath and make me skip a beat or wait does a city live and breathe?
I cannot help but wonder can a city become something our friends and relatives cant? I was brought up in comparatively small town but my insistent wish to get out got me into a city of dreams, which was before I started dreaming about it. I was brought up to believe that each city had boundaries- the ones in its municipal control but I am yet to see the boundaries of my dream city. With each year passing by it’s just increasing in both length and breadth.
Some time ago I was a timid girl who acquainted this elder and mature city. I was naive and ignorant; I dreaded even the aura of this magnificent city. But like all other, kind and compassionate loved ones, the city took me into its arm without judging me. Each time I fell, there it was with its arms held wide open to make me stand back and in time it became my friend, philosopher and guide.
Just like any other relationship we were separated and had our quarrels but this just kept on proving how real WE were. The long wait for a taxi in the scorching heat, the push and pull of the local trains, the long line for some theaters, the exorbitant rates for something as common as a roadside ice cream... the list can continue but then there came moments which made it all worthwhile. The late sunset, the sparkling street lights, the breeze which could take your breathe away, the long walks to nowhere with no one just to not feel lonely... each day is a new journey to Neverland, as if no one grows old here.
At a level much deeper, the city gets into your system. It’s in the air we breathe, it’s in the touch we feel, it’s in the food we eat, it’s even in the dreams we see and before we know it, the city is us and we are the city.
I cannot help but wonder can a city become something our friends and relatives cant? I was brought up in comparatively small town but my insistent wish to get out got me into a city of dreams, which was before I started dreaming about it. I was brought up to believe that each city had boundaries- the ones in its municipal control but I am yet to see the boundaries of my dream city. With each year passing by it’s just increasing in both length and breadth.
Some time ago I was a timid girl who acquainted this elder and mature city. I was naive and ignorant; I dreaded even the aura of this magnificent city. But like all other, kind and compassionate loved ones, the city took me into its arm without judging me. Each time I fell, there it was with its arms held wide open to make me stand back and in time it became my friend, philosopher and guide.
Just like any other relationship we were separated and had our quarrels but this just kept on proving how real WE were. The long wait for a taxi in the scorching heat, the push and pull of the local trains, the long line for some theaters, the exorbitant rates for something as common as a roadside ice cream... the list can continue but then there came moments which made it all worthwhile. The late sunset, the sparkling street lights, the breeze which could take your breathe away, the long walks to nowhere with no one just to not feel lonely... each day is a new journey to Neverland, as if no one grows old here.
At a level much deeper, the city gets into your system. It’s in the air we breathe, it’s in the touch we feel, it’s in the food we eat, it’s even in the dreams we see and before we know it, the city is us and we are the city.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Movie magic!
My friends think I am addicted to movies but I don't. Addiction is when you forced to do something more like a compulsion but I can leave watching whenever I want. A movie for me is like that cup of coffee you have every morning not because you are addicted to caffeine but because it is one of those few things which gives you sheer joy.
A good movie is like a dinner at a good restaurant. Everything served perfectly keeping the consumer's wants in mind. All you have to do is make yourself comfortable, get in the mood for what's coming and let the story unroll. What starts as a long list of names and unrelated description of characters slowly molds into a plot where a usually confused protagonist with a series of accounts opens up a completely different refuge from the mundane real world. In matter of no time, you start becoming the part of the story. However, I disagree with the common belief of relating to the characters, I don't. I don't have a rich father and a poor boyfriend or a sick mom and no money (touchwood!) but all I have is a huge craving for stories.
I do not believe in classifying movies just like the music- anything good to the ears is a good music. Similarly anything which can hold your attention for anything more than a minute is a good movie. It might take days to make a masterpiece of a movie but just two hours or so to realize it. I do believe making a movie is an art but so is watching one!
Ah! Those heart aches after a heart rendering tragedy, those dazed smiles after a happily ended 'chick flick', or that long silence after a display of those deeply complicated human emotions...Once the reel begins, every script tells a story, every character comes alive, every emotion becomes real until the line between the real and the reel no longer exists.
I still repeat its not addiction or passion, its just sheer craving for some good stories, tales, and incidents whatever you call it. For some it might be a well written book, for others a well sung song and for the rare ones a good narrated story, for me it’s the movies.
A good movie is like a dinner at a good restaurant. Everything served perfectly keeping the consumer's wants in mind. All you have to do is make yourself comfortable, get in the mood for what's coming and let the story unroll. What starts as a long list of names and unrelated description of characters slowly molds into a plot where a usually confused protagonist with a series of accounts opens up a completely different refuge from the mundane real world. In matter of no time, you start becoming the part of the story. However, I disagree with the common belief of relating to the characters, I don't. I don't have a rich father and a poor boyfriend or a sick mom and no money (touchwood!) but all I have is a huge craving for stories.
I do not believe in classifying movies just like the music- anything good to the ears is a good music. Similarly anything which can hold your attention for anything more than a minute is a good movie. It might take days to make a masterpiece of a movie but just two hours or so to realize it. I do believe making a movie is an art but so is watching one!
Ah! Those heart aches after a heart rendering tragedy, those dazed smiles after a happily ended 'chick flick', or that long silence after a display of those deeply complicated human emotions...Once the reel begins, every script tells a story, every character comes alive, every emotion becomes real until the line between the real and the reel no longer exists.
I still repeat its not addiction or passion, its just sheer craving for some good stories, tales, and incidents whatever you call it. For some it might be a well written book, for others a well sung song and for the rare ones a good narrated story, for me it’s the movies.
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