Thursday, November 28, 2013

Robinson Crusoe...

...is a fascinating book. It has pages after pages of emotion, drama, adventure, history, geography, philosophy, and human psychology.



I had read the Paico Classics' pictorial version of Robinson Crusoe. Since then, I had harboured a desire to read the original. While reading it now, the sepia-toned amazingly life-like picture strips of the comic kept coming to mind. The book was written in 1719, and so the language is quite dreary and long, so I still prefer the comic.



What the book has on the positive side is the portal to the early eighteenth century. But it made me quizzical and angry the way certain things were written. For example, Crusoe's colonial attitude towards the first human being he meets in 25 years. You would think, he would want to befriend the new person in his life, for Crusoe is really hungry for human company after two-and-a-half decades of solitude. He keeps calling him a savage and then as if that wasn't all, one of the first words he teaches the new guy is to call him 'master'.

The worst thing is that it is not even subtle. You know how for example western world can become patronising towards the eastern world without wanting to be? Or how the most liberal people turn into bigots without realising? Daniel Defoe wears his views on colonialism, racism, christianity and theology on his sleeve.

In spite of all this, the book is a roller-coaster adventure. It kept reminding me of days, especially in Auroville, when money was sparse and how I had to keep creating cheap stuff from local technology to spend as less as possible on tools and yet derive as scientifically rich a dividend as possible. Comparing myself to Robinson Crusoe would be laughable, but this is a book where you keep doing two things: imagining and reminiscing. That makes for a great work of fiction doesn't it? Where the reader can personally connect with a rare occurrence.

Friday, November 22, 2013

Those of you who like to read some well-writ commentary on movies, in hindi, will like this blog.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Music From The Heart

Once in a while comes a movie which has an unattractive, cryptic title and looks utterly desolate and depressing, but is about music and that keeps casually tugging at your sleeves to give it your time of the day, that you eventually melt and relent. Two hours later when you come out, you realise it has been a fascinating experience. The movie doesn't have a plot to sustain for two hours, but the director, the lead actor and most of all the music manage to hold your attention all the while. I was completely drawn in, and enjoyed Inside Llewyn Davis.


One of my favourite genre of music is Irish and English Folk which is what features predominantly in the soundtrack. Reminded me of my childhood when my brothers and I would spend watching countless re-runs of Disney cartoons like Robin Hood which were full of Folk music of the isles.

Listen to Oscar Isaac singing 'The Death of Queen Jane'. One sad, lilting song. It's a treat to watch Isaac sing this in the theatre.


500 miles features on the soundtrack too. A slightly faster version with amazing harmonies by the three singers. This is a more commercial version as compared to the original 1961 recording by The Journeymen. Reminds you of a Hindi song, doesn't it? :)



Friday, November 15, 2013

Going Greek

Damn excited to travel to Greece! Don't remember being this excited in recent times. Yayyyyyyyyy Yipeeeeeeeeeeeeee Yahooooooooooo

Unfortunately, Corfu isn't gonna be in this trip, because I had just four days off, and I heard Corfu isn't reminiscent of how it appears in Durrell's book, so what's the point, right?

Athens - here I come!

I could sense the atmosphere in the lab. No one from the lab has been there before, and those who did had been there so long ago that they don't remember anything apart from name of the Greek beer. French are never vocal with their emotions. But someone in the lab eventually croaked, "I wish I could come with you.."

Aw baby, you can't. But I will get you loads of photos :) while you work in the lab..in this cold damp weather, cooped up in the room, blasting your heater..I will be away in Athens soaking the glorious mediterranean sun.

Off I go in a few hours..

Monday, November 04, 2013

Just Rambling Along

What would I like to be inscribed on my grave?

I don't know why I would think of such a question, but I did, and I had to think really hard, which made me feel good, coz as it happens, I usually come up with answers and solutions quickly, and this question needed me to think, which means it was an unchartered territory.

After some thought, I settled on this: If inscriptions are supposed to reflect what you were when living and what you wished to be, I would not want an inscription, nor a grave. A grave makes you grounded, and I have always aspired to be free. An inscription makes you confined to a few words, and I have always wished for being more than just a few words.

But I think graves and inscriptions do act as anchors for people who we leave behind. If at all, I would want the stone to say:

Free and Fearless.
--

There was a song in Malayalam for kids that mom and dad translated in Hindi for us and the Baal-Bhavan kids. It's raining and a sparrow is looking for shelter. She goes to different trees and says:
चिलचिल चिलचिल हम हैं चिडीया चिलचिल चिलचिल चिल
चिलचिल चिलचिल हम हैं चिडीया चिलचिल चिलचिल चिल
सुनो रे अंबुआ प्यारे अंबुआ मैं नन्ही चिडीया
बारिश में छुपने भर की मुझको जगह दोगे क्या?

And the mango tree would scold the sparrow and ask her to scoot off.

And so the sparrow would ask for shelter to different trees...and so on it would go, replacing अंबुआ with नीम and other trees. In the end, ईमली very generously would allow the sparrow to take shelter on her branches. The evils need to be punished, right? A strong gale approaches and uproots every tree except the ईमली for her generosity, and she and the sparrow live happily ever after.
--


It is probably true for some of us: 'in death we come alive'. I am not sure what these thoughts are an indication of. Self-destruction? Fatalism? I am not half ashamed to think about such things, and articulate them openly on this blog. Sometimes I confuse myself. I definitely want to live. Passion, zeal, blah, blah. Remember the last blog? But at the same time, if I think of death, I think I can embrace it. Maybe not with compassion, but definitely with calmness and composure. So yeah, I am confused by my own contradictions sometimes.
--

There's a constantly pelting wind on my wall, and I had a thought: What if the wind wants a shelter? What if the rain needs a home? Now that would indeed be a classic case of schizophrenia. Unleashing something, and then wanting to safeguard yourself against it.
--

Wish you all a very happy Diwali!