tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23472395167001177242024-03-14T13:30:21.782+05:30Memorie DolcieHERZLICH WILKOMMENRrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-91831360739927743092013-05-03T23:20:00.002+05:302013-05-03T23:20:49.249+05:30From the Most Beautiful to the Most Celebrated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">Calcutta, India</i><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">London, United Kingdom</i><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">3rd May, 2013</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">-</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">It's easily one of the world's most celebrated cities. The location for many a Bollywood song and dance sequence and even of Mr Bean's countless shenanigans. At the end of it though, you realise just how similar Great Britain's capital is to it's once Indian counterpart Calcutta. That is, however, a different tale altogether. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">Having had an orthodox Catholic upbringing for fourteen good years, I was almost prepared for a week's stay at the Salesian House in Chertsey, Surrey; or so I thought. Through the heart of Chertsey runs Runnymede where King John had been compelled to sign the historic Magna Carta. Much like most of Britain's countryside locales of repute, one does not see thousands of people flocking to Runnymede to look at the fields. In fact, neither did we (nor our host) know of the place's historic significance until rather late into our stay here. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">I've known Fr Andrew since 2009. Every February, he comes down to visit Calcutta (which is coincidentally, where he originates from) and Don Bosco Park Circus with students of The Salesian School and Sixth Form Centre, essentially run by Priests of the Order of Salesians of Don Bosco. And so, as luck would have it, it was now time for us to tell Great Britain that their Danny Boyle had got India all wrong in Slumdog Millionaire. Post an uncountable number of correspondences and questions by the visa authorities and immigration departments at both NSCBI and at Heathrow (the validity or usefulness of which has still failed to dawn on me), we finally were in the United Kingdom.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">To be very honest, the UK is strikingly different from what social media has portrayed it to be for us Indians. Firstly, each and every Indian student does not get attacked or heckled for the colour of his or her skin. The idea, on it's own, is rather absurd especially in a country where their national dish is the Indian Chicken Tikka Masala. Having spent each awake hour with them, I can safely conclude that if you create an issue, an issue persists. That, to be honest, is the situation anywhere in the world including India. I think we've all lost count of the number of jokes we've cracked about ourselves as 'whites' and 'browns' (even going on to deduce that the attention we received is simply because we are of a colour as desirable as chocolate) and I'm pretty certain we all host an adequate amount of respect for each other and appreciate the impact the others have had on our lives. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">Secondly, the English need English lessons, but more on that when I engage in personal rendezvous with the readers of this essay. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">Whilst in Chertsey, we had the opportunity of speaking to a total of twelve classes - each an hour. I might have now begun reconsidering academia as a backup career option, but the joys, the laughter and the sheer pride of informing (and in the process, even building better relationships) a group of young, enthusiastic British students about India and how we aren't simply the land of the Great Indian Rope Trick or where everyone pets elephants. In addition, the sadistic pleasure of scaring them by letting them know of the strict rules and norms we follow in India when it comes to scholastic education is unparalleled. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">London, on the other hand, is far more chaotic. A city so small it would cover ground area of just about South Calcutta, London just needs a reason to celebrate. In fact, I now know why so many Bengalis flock to London and live there all their lives - the Queen's Birthday, the Prince's birthday, the Duchess's baby-shower - London just needs a reason to celebrate and much like the average Calcuttan who doesn't mind celebration to be the norm of life, the Londoner isn't complaining. Give them a top hat, a trench coat and a rare week of bright sunshine and everyone between the ages of nine and ninety will queue outside Buckingham Palace and around Victoria Memorial just to watch the Red Coats change guard. Poor Lizzie can't seem to be even able to soak in the fresh air in her nightgown without having more than twenty times four score eyes fixed on her. As much as royalty irks my interest, it does not dwindle in causing annoyance either. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">If nothing else, go walk down Her Majesty's Jubilee South Bank, catch a glimpse of Her Majesty's Tower Bridge or even Her Majesty's River Thames. I trick you not, you'll enjoy every moment albeit the freezing cold winds which the British so happily 'bask' themselves in. Post sunset, all you need to do is go up on the London Eye to find out exactly why this city is so very popular. In a sense, you begin to fall in love with the city despite it going off to sleep after a long day at a quarter to ten. The Tube too, as much as you may draw comparisons and secretly feel happy on deducing how much better the Calcutta Metro is, does not fail to draw your mind to the intricately themed stations - Baker Street Station has Sherlock Holmes silhouettes all over and Victoria Station presents tiles embossed with the face of the former Empress of India (or so, each of her statues all over England still proclaim). You may even decide to visit Clapham Junction, Britain's busiest station where you can hope to meet drunks from places even outside of Ireland or in a rather matter-of-fact manner walk into Harrod's and pretend to be too rich to buy anything that someone else might also have a chance of owning. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">At the end of it all, however, once you land back in Calcutta, you will realise what you've missed for all these days - the very endearing reference of every stranger as 'Dada' or 'Didi.' In London, you can bump into people and they won't even stop to offer an apology. Everyone there is too busy listening to what I assume is therapeutic chants. Neither Calcutta nor London are squeaky clean; and strangely enough, I've even managed to come across beggars on Oxford Street in London, but the soul (and the rather warm temperatures of Calcutta) will always attract you back even if you've been an infidel and accommodated place in your heart for London. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">To sum it up, the experience guarantees to be the celebration of love because of the love for celebration - from London to Calcutta. Perhaps, they're the same after all.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.5px;">And if you're still not convinced, I suggest you stop scrubbing your dishes, put them in dishwashers (the idea of which still eludes me) and pick up a bag of Her Majesty's Peanuts. And yes, remember to check if it mentions 'Contains Nuts' on the backside of the pack.</span></div>
Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-30158064318019840882011-06-25T22:44:00.003+05:302011-10-15T11:27:20.855+05:30Ranjana...tumi aar esho na<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><img src="http://www.fullyfreedown.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Ranjana-Ami-Ar-Asbo-Na-201.jpg" /><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">রঞ্জনা আমি আর আসব না | পাড়ায়ে ঢুকলে ঠ্যাং খোড়া করে দেব, বলেছে পাড়ার দাদারা | অন্য পাড়া দিয়ে যাচ্ছি তাই |</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Ranjana is basically about this young girl, played by Parno Mittra, and her rise to fame due to the "Devil turns Messiah" like Anjan Dutt, as Abani Dutta. If you can get past the immense alcoholism, cigarettes and the annoying mannequin (yes, a black mannequin adorned the hallways of Anjan Dutt's house), maybe you'll like the essence of this movie. Although the plot is extremely thin and there is absolutely no matter in the plot, the movie primarily grosses on Dutt's popularity.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> The movie begins with the cult hit 'Ranjana' and then goes on the exact same way Dutt's earlier 'Madlee Bangali' ends, a ride through Newtown, Rajarhat and that gets you hopeful of the story and the wonderful world of sheer Anjan Dutt magic that is to unravel itself, only to disappoint you miserably.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> The first half of the movie primarily deals with how, despite the immense alcoholic problems and the frequent visits to Medica Super-speciality Hospital, Anjan Dutt manages to stand up, force his doctor to let him leave the hospital so that he can go back home and take his pills with a glass of whiskey. Not to forget, the annoying black male mannequin that ELVIS, Abani's servant, played by Kanchan, spends dressing up. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> The second half is on a prophetic level with Stanlee, by Kabir Suman, playing Conscience to Abani and the latter helping Ranjana technically replacing him in the band as he died in true blue Kal Ho Na Ho, sorry, Shah Rukh Khan style.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">As always, however, there are certain instances that annoyed me to no end:<br />
1. The black mannequin. Could there be NOTHING more ridiculous?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">2. Nandan Bagchi and his pronunciation of 'NYPD'and his annoying accent all through.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">3. Dialogues. All dialogues are extremely repetitive and the same character repeats them like the chorus of hymns in one breath. The same applies for actions.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">4. Abani Sen's house has been done up the way Ranbir Kapoor's was, in Saawariya. Was the illuminated guitar on the wall absolutely necessary?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">5. Most of us associate Anjan Dutt with the dark glasses, black T-Shirt and Blue pair of jeans. All that seemed to undergo a change as our icon wore (believe it or not!) a pair of swim trunks, at times a pair of bermudas and an overcoat.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Characters: </b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Anjan Dutt-</b>As Abani Sen, Anjan Dutt is good, if you can get past the alcohol and the cigarettes and the numerous times he's fine and flees the hospital although his doctor tells him that he isn't doing too well. Dutt is at his best when dealing with the emotional outburst during his birthday when he screams at Ranjana. He also does a commendable job when the scene where he goes through Stanlee's letter unfolds.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Parno Mittra-</b>Parno, as Ranjana, is natural. You feel with her and you believe that this actually happens in real life. She is brilliant when she tries to bring Abani back to consciousness and of course, when she performs for the last time.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Kanchan Mullick-</b>Conspicuously called 'Elvis' by Abani, Kanchan essays the role of the servant perfectly and is extremely pleasing to watch as he is a relief from the the numerous mannequins that filled up the silver screen all through. We wish he had more screen space.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Kabir Suman-</b>As Stanlee, Suman does a wonderful job. His acting prowess comes into view when he brilliantly performs the routine of an aging man losing out on his nerves and his control, as his hands refuse to remain steady while talking on the phone.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Amyt Dutta and Nandan Bagchi-</b>They cannot act to save their lives. While Amyt Dutta kept reminding me of Gulshan Grover (minus the acting capabilities), thanks to his look, and remained plastic all through and showed no emotions, Nandan Bagchi tried, overdid it, and failed. The latter seemed immensely annoying in every frame he was in, where he did everything apart from what he can do, music, especially when he proclaims himself to be working with the New York Police Department and Lew Hilt being part of the Kolkata Police.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Suman De (STAR Ananda)-</b>If you thought Bagchi was annoying, welcome Suman De, our very own STAR Ananda Editor-in-Chief. With his annoying and monotonous voice and lack of acting skills, each frame that had him was painful.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Dipannita-</b>Like Kanchan, she deserved more screen presence, especially since she's one of the very few who could act. Every emotion of hers conveyed beautifully.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Lew Hilt and Abir Chatterjee-</b> Neither of them do anything at all in the film. Hilt is seen speaking only a few lines towards the end. The rest of the time, all he does is play his bass guitar. Chatterjee, on the other hand, deserved a better role in the movie. With his feeble role, however, we will not do anything.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">All in all, Ranjana Ami Ar Ashbo Na is obviously not a movie you'd watch again and again. This movie is strictly meant for the teens and they'd probably the music, if not anything else. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">If you want to watch it at all, hire yourself a video.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Rating: 2/5 (Poor)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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</div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-83085322657724925582011-06-07T14:44:00.003+05:302011-06-07T14:44:33.869+05:30A Sin To Be Born<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div><em>The rains came down just then.</em><br />
<em>First drop by drop, and then all together,</em><br />
<em>Washing off the vermillion from her parting</em><br />
<em>As minute streams of blood.</em><br />
<br />
<em>She stood there by the river</em><br />
<em>As the levels rose and the current grew stronger,</em><br />
<em>Not caring about whether she'd be washed away by the fierce lashes of the heartless Ganges</em><br />
<em>Her only concern, her.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Sound asleep she lay in her arms</em><br />
<em>As she shielded her from the ruthless pours</em><br />
<em>Using nothing but the end of her sari, </em><br />
<em>While she soaked to the skin.</em><br />
<br />
<em>The sun by now was hiding behind the clouds,</em><br />
<em>And it went well, the situation,</em><br />
<em>With her life's journey </em><br />
<em>As she went for a walk down the lane of horrid memoirs.</em><br />
<br />
<em>She remembered the day she first got news.</em><br />
<em>Her home sounding shrill screeches of joy and ecstasy</em><br />
<em>As family circled round her and celebrated</em><br />
<em>The coming of a son.</em><br />
<br />
<em>The wonder of nine nights lasted nine months</em><br />
<em>Until the day arrived </em><br />
<em>When the little infant born out of a mother in excruciating pain.</em><br />
<em>She named her Aziza.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Suddenly, the reassuring cries of happiness </em><br />
<em>Transformed</em><br />
<em>Into wails of sorrow</em><br />
<em>Unheard of.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Some suggested murder, while others</em><br />
<em>Spoke about setting her afloat</em><br />
<em>In the hands of the mighty river that would take her</em><br />
<em>To the Heavens to repent her sin.</em><br />
<br />
<em>Back she came into the world she was in,</em><br />
<em>The mighty river in front of her, </em><br />
<em>As lightning struck</em><br />
<em> Somewhere close.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<em>Unknotting the end of her sari, she then,</em><br />
<em>Threw away the bunch of keys</em><br />
<em>That were they keys to her home</em><br />
<em>And her world.</em><br />
<br />
<em>She then looked at the Heavens one last time</em><br />
<em>And cursed her self for being the woman and bearing another.</em><br />
<em>And then, she slowly walked towards it,</em><br />
<em>As the mighty Ganges swept her away into oblivion.</em></div></div></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-50299720774830369752011-05-24T09:55:00.000+05:302011-05-24T09:55:00.953+05:30Rendezvous with the Ice Maiden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Through the glass it looked beautiful,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The picturesque city drenched in the first rains.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The setting went well with his mood,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>His mind flashed a thousand images.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Turning, he looked at her again.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>On the cold floor she lay</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Staring blankly at the ceiling.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em> </em><em>She was cold too. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He knelt down beside her</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Running his fingers up her arm </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Until he reached her neck. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He stopped to glance at her necklace.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>It was a present from him.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He remembered that fateful day.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Roses decked up her house</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>While she sat with him on the couch</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And he knelt down and then looked at her.</em><em>Then, he gave her that.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A sudden noise brought him back</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And he smiled at her.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A smile not of a sinner, but of a lover</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Honest and true.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em> Then a look so menacing,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Rarely did a lover look so.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He clasped the pendant once again</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And ripped it off.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>An emotion of calmness then set upon his face,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>As if it were a job swell done.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He got up and walked across the room</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And heaved himself upon a chair.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>There, he slept till morning.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Ere the big ball of fire rose again.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The rays struck his eyes to bring</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Him back to the world again.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And then, he glanced at her once again.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A heavenly face so pristine,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He fell in love with her</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Once again and over.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He then got up from his throne</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And walked up to the ice maiden.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>There, he dropped his gun</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And turned to leave.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Just then, he stopped.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Turning, he went back again. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Kneeling, he took out his knife</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And struck it six times.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Finally he got up to go</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And his phone rang. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>'Are you coming, honey?' said the voice.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>'In a minute!' As he wiped his knife.</em></div></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-20270792201334079412011-05-23T00:11:00.002+05:302011-05-23T00:11:37.810+05:30Euphoria<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>His right hand was dead,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Blood oozing out through his vein;</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He felt numb </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And contented. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>His whole life flashed by </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>In euphoria unparalleled.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The long walks down the dimly lit lane,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The fleeing when time had crossed its bounds.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The graffiti on his arms he cherished. The smile,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Breath-taking to say the least. He believed</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She and he were meant to be.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Together and forever.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And then, he came back, </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>To the world that now knew no pain.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>By and by, he shut his eyes</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Never to open again.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Yet, his heart still beat,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>For the woman for whom he paved a bed</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Of a colour richer than a Marshal Niel.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He remembered that day.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The fireworks shone brilliantly,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Welcoming a new year to oneself.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And this was a new year that'd be the worst </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>For all the hopes he'd piled on, were shattered.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And he had not the courage to build them again.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Days post, they met again, her smile</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Lit him up. An emotion</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>So strange it were</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>To cry and smile together.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A week that'd been the most magnificient of all, </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And yet on the day it was last, she broke him</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Her heart was for someone else: the person </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She loved. And he stood there, yet again, dumbstruck.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Tears rolled down his eyes as </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A smile he braved for her</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>To be happy was all he'd hoped </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>For her.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Since then his eyes and heart</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Craved for once a sight of hers.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A futile wish, he knew, for</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She didn't care at all for him.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And thus, his wrist bleeds</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A red that's not just his blood</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>But an ocean of emotions and pain engulfed.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>He shuts his eyes for ever.</em></div></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-3707987917178818232011-05-23T00:10:00.000+05:302011-05-23T00:10:02.217+05:30The Value of Unimportance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The day isn't at all different. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He gets up, like he always does,</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">From the dilapidated sheet of plastic</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And stares. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">There's a brilliant spark in his eyes, </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A bottomless ocean of many</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Experiences, memoirs and happiness. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Men and women walk by in apparel,</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Bright.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The weather suits his mood. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He is happy, for new clothes shall he wear</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The tattered old rags. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Drums beat with an unsual mix of rhythm and raucousness.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The music brought by the cool winds</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That kiss his beardless cheek,</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A cold, yet pleasant kiss.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And then, he stares</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Into moments of time faded into oblivion.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Happier times, perhaps, they are</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">History, we wish,</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">But illusion, alas!</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">He stares, yet, eyes fixed</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">On a memory that existed, Or</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Probably never did.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And then, he thinks of other things, </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Memories he shall not like to recall. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">They're events and circumstances that have led to this futile life,</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Humiliation and shame filling the void of the soul.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A hand so soft, then touches his face.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A touch so heavenly that takes him to a world unknown</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Yet, wished for, in his dreams.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The nimble fingers wipe off something from his cheeks</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As drops of dew fall on his cold, weak arms.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The universe he now belongs to is above</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And beyond all that man hath perceived. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You and I shall never know</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Realisation might never dawn</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Was it God or Nature </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That took pity on this unimportant creature</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And released him from a life so used to humiliation and torture?</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The little boy remains there, holding on to the man</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Father, he called. Streams of realisation flow down his tanned cheeks</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Of loneliness dawning. </div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The man now looks not towards the Heavens,</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Or the life of the Chanel clad lady in red.</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Yet, there's a smile unparallel. An expression</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Truly worth this futile life.</div></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-28199935585689801092011-05-23T00:08:00.003+05:302011-05-23T00:09:03.676+05:30An ode to the Unsung Hero<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Draped in a white sari she looks</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A lifeless glimmer in her eyes. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She sits on the sidewalk as thousands</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Of feet pass her.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Today is a special day, she recalls</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A day that changed the world. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The eye has turned chaste, years of memories</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She recollects.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She remembers the day she felt</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Worthwhile for once.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Having fled from a husband abusive</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She sat by the street.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>That day it poured, as if</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Heavens seemed in accordance with her.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The first rain of the year, a concoction</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Of happiness and grief.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Exhilarated as she was, quite obvious the emotion,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em> </em><em>She named the child Jim.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The sound of tears that made her smile</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Was a sound unforgotten.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>On and on years passed by,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The first words he spoke.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Her elation knew no bounds when</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em> 'Maa,' she had heard.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Henceforth life went on,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>To school the little boy went.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Yet, the mother stayed back on that pavement</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>To make him his lunch.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And then came the day that changed</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The lives of both these beings.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A letter from a boss that took</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Jim away and afar.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Hurt she had been, yet took immense pride</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>At her son's successes and the beginning of a new stride.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She dabbed her moist eye with the tunic</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>As she bid him goodbye.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Since then, years have passed,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Life has moved on. </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She has been asked to leave </em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>The room she called home.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Today as she remembers her son's birthday bright</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Deep down, she hopes that he would</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Once at least call on</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A mother missing the glimmer of her son's eyes.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>She still recalls his darkish skin,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>Hair rough and eyes light a brown.</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>And today as she keeps his birthday,</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>It's a sea of emotions that fill</em></div><div style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><em>A tear drop from her eyes.</em></div></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-89848219562322901032011-05-22T23:55:00.002+05:302011-05-22T23:57:28.607+05:30Noukadubi: A Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y81QtS_p158/TdlS1-O0VTI/AAAAAAAAAEU/SsK-_NXylmI/s1600/noukadubi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y81QtS_p158/TdlS1-O0VTI/AAAAAAAAAEU/SsK-_NXylmI/s400/noukadubi.jpg" width="276" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><b><u>Noukadubi - Rituparno Ghosh has and can do a lot better. An immense let down on his part.</u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><b><u><br />
</u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; line-height: 14px;"> Noukadubi is essentially a story of love between individuals borne out of mistaken identity. A boat wreck leads to two people, absolutely unknown to each other, living together as man and wife, thinking that they are indeed with the one they got married to. How the two main characters realise that mistake and how it affects not just them but also the man's prospective lover and the woman's actual husband forms the crux of the story.<br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;">Noukadubi, as by Tagore, was from Kamala (the part essayed by Riya Sen)'s point of view. I don't know WHAT happened to him that made him twist the plot to turn it into Ramesh (Jisshu Sengupta)'s perspective. That kind of injected all the romanticism out of the plot.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"> It</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"> does not work because once you switch the plot to fit the perspective of Ramesh, a LAWYER, of<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"> all people, the very tenderness and romance and fondness is missing. It would have worked had it been from the perspective of Kamala, a village belle. She's someone who'd work on the nuances well and they'd come out naturally, simply because sincerity and conviction on her part would have been better noticed which would have brought about the things that I stated out. I'm not saying that they were underplayed. They were missing from the story. That made it fall flat.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"> There are, in addition to this, a few technical glitches that annoyed me at times. Picture them.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;">One. Were Tagore's pictures ABSOLUTELY necessary? They did not help in any way. That just made me believe that it wasn't something based in the 1930s (Noukadubi was based in the 1920s) but rather, today.<br />
Two. The SAME newspaper was used on two different dates. HOW is that possible?<br />
Three. The manner in which Kamala faints and falls ill is very repetitive. Same applies for when she lands up on the banks of the rivers.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><b>CHARACTERS: </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">As Ramesh, </span>Jisshu Sengupta<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> is very convincing and sincere, but I wished he emoted a little more, especially when in conversation with the woman he loves, Hemnalini.</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">As Kamala, </span>Riya Sen<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> too, does a good job. What a relief to know that she can actually act! However, when in a scene with someone else, it's the other character that rules celluloid and not her. One's eyes shift away from her very easily.</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">As </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Nalinaksha, with the very small role that </span>Prosenjit Chatterjee<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> has is commendable and he performs it to the T. In every scene that he is in, whether as the singer who brilliantly performs Sanga Chadma or the doctor who goes around prescribing medicines even when not called for, he is excellent and is completely convincing in his role. The icing on the cake is when his mother cries and the way he tells his mother 'khete dao'. That is just awe-striking. </span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><b><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><b><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: white; display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">But, by far, the best is </span>Raima Sen<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> as Hemnalini. The sophisticated Bengali is brilliantly essayed by her and every emotion is perfectly conveyed across to the audience. The little warmth that is there in the movie is largely due to her performance. When on screen, she is in control, even if the character accompanying her is none but Prosenjit. She gives him a run for his money, especially when the scene about the 6 steps and not taking the seventh one happens, or the way she comes to meet Nalinaksha's mother (reminded me of Chigusa's role in the Japanese Wife) is breath-taking. Whether low and dejected or cheerful and high-spirited, she is convincing from one frame to the other.</span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><b><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></span></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;">All in all, Noukadubi is an average film. Rituparno's ode to the Bengali Bard isn't as up-heaving as it should have been.<br />
<br />
Rating: 3/5 (Average)</span></span></span></div></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-3533638664107582002010-09-02T16:01:00.002+05:302010-09-02T17:26:55.729+05:30Strange Land, Stranger PeopleTruly, when one thinks of India, does one really think of Incredible India? I'd rather say they think of a few basics:<br />
1. The 'Common-wealth games'<br />
2. Food and Money<br />
3. Naxalites<br />
<br />
<b>The Commonwealth or Common-wealth Games 2010</b><br />
CWG 2006, Melbourne: A dainty Aishwarya Rai performs an eleven minute dance sequence as she welcomes the world to witness the Commonwealth Games 2010 to be held in India's national capital, New Delhi. 4 years since, and let's have a look at the exquisite condition the stadia are in with just 31 days to go before India rolls out the red carpet for her guests for the Commonwealth Games 2010. Well, let's just hope so.<br />
Indira Gandhi Stadium and Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium: Do these places even look like stadia that are due to host a series of international events in just about 30 days? I'd rather say, and I'm very sure many would agree, that they look pretty much like Canning House and Dalhousie House and other such warehouses flanking the Strand Road in Calcutta.<br />
Commonwealth Games truly seem to have turned into a Game to loot the Common's Wealth. All hail Suresh Kalmadi, officially, indeed; and unofficially, the many top bureaucrats, who, along with Mr. Kalmadi, sometime or other, have been part of this wonderful act we term as 'under-the-table conversation.'<br />
Some Rupees 40,000.00 spent on hiring toilet paper and umbrellas? Honestly, I had never even heard of 're-usable' toilet paper until our honourable Government decided to invest 5 grands per roll renting it. Well, let's just hope 'Atithi Devo Bhawa' lives up to serving it's guests from the Commonwealth of Nations and other countries and is not corrupt too.<br />
<br />
<b>Food and Money</b><br />
Madame Tussuad should have considered opening up a museum here in India too, considering the fact that we have prestigious jewels whom we can immortalize for ever, and one of them is our food and agriculture Minister, Mr. Sharad Pawar<br />
What have not heard about this marvel? First, his link ups with the IPL scam, and now this - the height of 'responsibility' on his front when it comes to the people of India. He is a Cabinet Minister, holding a key portfolio that precedes every portfolio, as man cannot munch on currency notes.<br />
Tonnes of food grain have been wasted over the past decade, and an approximate value of Rupees 50 crore is spent every year in order to protect these food crops from damage.<br />
According to the guidelines laid down by the Government of India, every Indian family below the poverty line is liable for 450 kgs of ration a year. I doubt whether they even receive 4.5 kgs of it in a year. Most people are dying of hunger, and the food which is produced for them is damaged and destroyed thanks to the poor preservation methods. Where exactly is the money going then? Are we really dumb enough to believe that we spend so much over food protection only so that all of it goes down the drain? I think not.<br />
Where is it all going then? Well, it's all draining, but into pockets - pockets of the rich and 'honest' citizens of India who aspire to lead us 'unto light from darkness,' while Mr. Sharad Pawar gleefully states that he has to 'look into the Supreme Court order to check whether he is allowed to distribute the damaged food crops at times of drought like these.'<br />
And then, we talk of price inflation. Not of daily articles, however, but our Members of Parliament. Areas of Bengal are drought stricken. The 3rd farmer suicide took place in two weeks on Tuesday, 31st August, 2010. How are we( the MPs) bothered? All we need is our money and whether we come to Parliament or not, whether we 'serve' the nation and her people or not, is absolutely optional; and often voted against. So much for 'Satyamev Jayate.'<br />
When people across the country are dying due to lack of finances and lack of food, our MPs storm the Parliament and cause its adjournment numerous times a day, all in thought of the 'servants' of the country - our politicians. As if a 300% pay hike was not enough, they need 200% more, excluding all allowances. Agreed that our MPs still receive a lot less as compared to international standards, but aren't they wise and sensible enough to realise that at a time like this, when one's own brothers are killing themselves, one should atleast be considerate enough to be termed human? Well, I don't think such sensibility will ever dawn upon our 'men who lead from the front.'<br />
<br />
<b>Naxal Problems</b><br />
The Media talks of and to the Maoists. We see footage of them on our television sets and pictures in the newspapers. Despite that, our Government cannot track them.<br />
The Home Minister, Mr. P. Chidambaram tries his best to arrange for a conference with the Chief Ministers of all the states undergoing Operation Green Hunt, but some of them just don't seem to turn up.<br />
The Minister of Railways, who is touted to be the next Chief Minister, puts forward her ideas, "There are no Maoists in India."<br />
So basically, the problem lies in the fact that as usual, we are divided in opinion, and that is quite natural.<br />
The Chief Minister of Bihar has always sided with the Maoists and as a result, 2/3rd of Bihar is under Maoist control. The Chief Minister of Jharkhand never bothers to turn up for meetings with the Minister of Home. His reasons are valid enough, he himself is touted to be one of the Maoists.<br />
The people want the Army in, the politicians don't. Why would they? After all, switching on the local news channel would give them unending entertainment.<br />
The Maoists have open jan-adalats in the forests. A prominent news channel even telecast a live session of a jan-adalat on their prime time, and still our politicians are fighting over their very existence.<br />
What more do they need? Thousands of police massacred in the long run, trying to regain democratic control over the Maoist areas; four police men nabbed from Bihar this morning, and they are still waiting for more. The only thing that they can do is pose with their picture-perfect faces with the cliché statement: "The situation is under control." Obviously, it is under control - the security forces are under control.<br />
"Money, Money, Money, It's a rich man's world!"<br />
<br />
-Rrivu BanerjeeRrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-2914537249572345882010-06-16T22:30:00.001+05:302010-06-16T22:31:55.486+05:30A PASCHionate month indeed!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Often we come across the phrase 'Once in a lifetime.' What does this actually mean? Does it mean any opportunity that comes across our way? No, it doesn't. It's an opportunity that comes your way only once, and never knocks at your door again if you reject it it. That is exactly what being PASCHionate is all about. One month of extensive German class, wonderful teachers, great new 'friends', the Fussball, Domino's, Azad Hind, 'Langsam' - all of this made up Berlin Klassenzimmer for me. Today, as I entered Berlin for the last time, I was choc-a-bloc with memories of the wonderful time I had spent here. Here's an ode to the people who made me, Me during the past one month. As I think of 20th June, and then 10th July, I really wonder what I'll do without you. We'll probably meet once in a while, but the closeness we shared will be lost, unfortunately. Thank You guys, once again!</span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Bidisha Dasgupta</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
The princess of sarcasm. Quite a witty personae, I must say. Bidisha, the girl who doesn't talk much, is someone who will make life miserable for you if you rub shoulders with her the wrong way. She is the girl who doesn't give a damn about how she speaks to someone as long as she believes in herself. The girl, who'll hold her cell phone in the weirdest manner and say, "Shyamal da, apni ki eshe gechen?" is the girl who rarely smiles, and when she does, it's worth an applause!</span> <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Srija Ghosh</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
The sweet, gentle girl, who is pretty good with her vocab too. One of the two women you can approach if you're in need of consoling is Srija. The lady I've christened as Wolverine (credit: her 6-inch nails) is also someone who's cold blooded (courtesy: her ice cold hands). A girl who believes that a smile and gentle words can fix all, she sent chills down the spine of one of our friends (we all know who!!) Thanks Wolverine for being one of my closest friends at PASCH 2010.<br />
</span> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Devyani Sarda</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
By far, my best friend (second to Sneha, though!), Devyani is a person who is all set to dive into anything. The other woman who is very good at helping people out, MA'AM is a great tennis player. Her maturity is spell-binding, and is someone who almost set a record for NEVER EATING during the PAUSE, but she didn't make it. She ate today (7 June). Well, you're still one of my best friends, so please remain like that ever more. Thanks Devyani!<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Nivedita Todi</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
The first word that crosses your mind when you see her is 'LANGSAM!' Nivedita is a person who brings the class to life, and quite literally, leaves it breathless too. The girl who can at times get on your nerves with her constant questions is an entertainment factor at PASCH, or as she puts it 'entertainment QUOTIENT.' The only girl who gets into a game of ball as full spirited as the rest of the guys, excluding Kevin, is Nivedita. So, Todi....go girl, even though we've told you at all times that you're a pathetic singer, you're not, and I mean it.<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Sanyam Dugar</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
"Rrivu, hum pass hoga na?"-this is one question he NEVER gets tired of, and frankly, neither do I. One of the very few guys who's modesty knows no bounds. The guy who literally taught me how to catch (yes, I was PATHETIC at it), a day without Sanyam in class 'IST SEHR LANGWEILIG" The 'KLEIN HUND" of our group, he is anything but a 'hund.' His endless 'gyan' on everything he knows and doesn't know of is worth a thousand memories. Finally, his choice of the 'Best Song of 2010' that spans over EVERY SONG he listens to, whether it's the R.D. Burman classic 'Mehbooba', A.R. Rahman's 'Behne De' or K'naan's 'Wavin' Flag'. Dude, never change!<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Abhishek Mohta</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
Having mentioned the KLEIN HUND, how can you miss the GROSS HUND. The gentle giant of PASCH, crack all the jokes you want, and he won't mind. The guy who is friends with EVERYONE, is a true gem. Actions speak louder than words, dude, so will keep it till here, without speaking much.<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Umang Mavani</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
The silent assassin of the group, I've never come to face the fact as to how a guy can speak on the phone for 45 minutes at length. And I thought I was the talkative one!!! The brainy kid of the group, Umang is great at FUSSBALL and brilliant with his academics too. I guess someone (Todi) should learn that shouting out rubbish at times is not the solution!!<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Rohit Ladrasia</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
Well, can't tell much about him apart from the fact that he's great with Deutsch too, and is a great teacher. He gives Devyani and Srija a run for their money. The guy who loves wearing badges on his uniform, is a quiet guy who beats all at whatever he lays his hands on.<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Gaurav Jain</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
The guy with the ENORMOUS epiglottis, Gaurav's jinxes with Kevin lead us into splits! The guy who is 16 and has a driving license, Gaurav loves the corner bench, chatting and driving. The guy who looks a little snobbish initially, isn't that bad afterall.<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Trishala Kanakia</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
Well, I call her Trish. The girl who appeared to be extremely snobbish and arrogant(Ya, I know, "look who's talking!") isn't that bad after all. Agreed, that she wasn't interested in the course earlier, but she's got the hang of it now, and we're sure she'll manage. We're all just praying Kevin chooses not to boast his German skills and cause her to fail.<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Rachit, Manav and Kevin</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
Nothing to say about these guys. have known them all my life. So, just wanna say thank you for the wonderful experience.<br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Rudraya Gupta</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<br />
This is a special mention. Rudraya is one of my closest friends from PASCH. Though he had to leave three weeks into the course, he was a guy who etched memories into all our lives for eons to come and pass by. Have missed you throughout, and will miss you forever. Thanks for being my friend.<br />
<br />
Lastly, I want to thank all of you once again. Thank You for making this a wonderful experience. Thank You, </span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Anita Ma'am</span></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Stefan Sir</span></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Amrit Ma'am</span></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Amrita Ma'am</span></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> and everyone else for your utmost support even when we literally brought Berlin down.</span></span></span></span></div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-73674517112929273212010-03-17T19:56:00.001+05:302010-06-16T22:41:40.003+05:30Dalit's Daughter or Daulat's Daughter?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A certain leader of the largest state of India, Uttar Pradesh, the Dalit's daughter! Well, she doesn't seem to be the Dalit's daughter anymore. She seems to be the Daulat's daughter.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A symbolic leader, as people say, of the oppressed and backward classes, and what does she do? First, she puts up statues of herself across the city of Lucknow; and now, she wears garlands made of currency notes, that amount to a whopping Rs. 18 lakhs. If this is the backward daughter, who exactly is the fortunate one, may I ask?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a nation, where millions go without food and water day in and day out. Where people struggle to meet their basic necessities of food, clothing and shelter, we have a leader, who has always been in the forefront of the media frenzy for being the Dalit's fortunate child, who happily waves at the crowd as she has her men garlanding her with currency notes-those very same currency notes that have the picture of the Mahatma, a world leader, the Father of the Nation, who always led a judicious life, asking his people to do the same. So much for ideals and virtues.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">'HER PEOPLE' have said that this garland symbolizes the love the people of the state have for the leader. Well, in that case, why can't she show some love, refuse the garland, and ask them to donate all the money to a charity that works for the welfare of the people. Well, why would she?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of this goes into the leader's 'SHAHI KHAZANA'. Why would she even bother about the people's welfare? The leader is busy building up a city that ensembles one of the Mughal cities, I guess.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, people's leader, do all of us a favour, and grow a brain. It'll help, in the long run, not only for you, but for the people of Uttar Pradesh in the microcosm, and the people of India at the macro cosmic level.</span>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2347239516700117724.post-75555429321108128092010-03-16T21:02:00.000+05:302010-03-16T21:42:55.153+05:30Parliamentary Procedures....I've always wanted to rail against the perilous condition of our Honourable Parliament and its procedures.<div>Firstly, switch on the Lok Sabha TV or the Rajya Sabha TV in the morning, you don't see a group of people gathered together to discuss issues that affect the common man. The view is more of a collection of fickle-minded people who have no clue why they are even there, apart from getting their monthly salary of Rs. 16000, plus other charges. </div><div>542 members scream their lungs out together, while the poor Speaker or Vice President tries to maintain decorum; and when she/he is unable to, the Marshals are called in to control the atmosphere to which again, our ministers protest, in the most ridiculous manner possible.</div><div>Agreed, that a democracy requires able opposition, but opposing under no circumstances means screaming your voice out while someone else places his/her view on the subject, and behave in the most uncivilized and uncouth manner possible. </div><div>I have nothing against our members of Parliament. It is we who elect them, so we are technically at fault if we are unable to make the right decision, but keeping that in mind, do we really have a better choice? </div><div>All I have to say, and I stand by it, is that we have lost around 72 hours, probably even more, of precious Parliamentary time. We are a nation that needs to grow fast, and with a steady base. No nation has ever become successful by having a parliament that looks a lot more like a fish market and less like a Parliament. We need to make sure that our members at the least, try to behave in a civilized manner, if not turn into civilized human beings. Until then, we can all just hope, that a day will come when this common man will be benefited and his life will not dissolve into the inferno of uncouth politics. </div>Rrivuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01825621782428472351noreply@blogger.com2