The rains...

The rain has always inspired poets and writers. Different people see different things when they watch the rain. Some people just love the soothing sound of falling rain. Others may be depressed at the sight of it. It can be melancholy to be without the sun for days as is the case during the monsoons. Nature whether depressing or uplifting is still impressive during those wonderful displays of light and sound that is the norm during the rainy seasons.
I love the rain. I do not like to be caught in it and am fussy about getting wet. I prefer watching the furious lashing of the wind and the rain from the comfort of my home. Its even better if I have a cup of hot tea cradled in my hands warming me from the inside while contrasting wonderfully with the cold outside. The trees in the garden are pushed every which way and they sway alarmingly in the strong winds. The front lawns get inundated with rain water and only the tips of the blades of grass manage to poke out. The sky is an angry gray and looks like the face of a sullen God taking out its anger on the meek and receptive earth.
The childhood years I spent in the Gulf have sown in me an appreciation of water and greenery. I remember the sparse and infrequent rains that were all that we knew as rain. Even those measly showers however, altered the landscape immensely. It was almost as if the desert knew that rain was too precious to waste and hurried her hidden seeds to fruition in just a few days so that almost overnight the bland wasteland would be covered with tiny flowers and little bits of greenery and even little puddles of water which we would gleefully jump in. It was magic especially for a kid like me who believed strongly in all things magical.
I remember this small tree- I thought it fairly large then but looking back I realize that it was small indeed- on my way to school. The heat was almost unbearable at 12:30 which was when we would be walking back with our heavy load of books. The merciless sun would pound on us ceaselessly. We tried to take longer paths through the shade of the buildings but that was not always possible and we had to take the heat head on everyday of the summer. So it came as a genuine relief to see our tree in the middle of an open ground about halfway to our flat. We would stop there awhile under the shade to take a breather and then continue on. That little tree with its friendly shade was shelter and relatively cool relief for us kids and I think that’s where my love for trees originated. I have a tiny backyard now but I have planted a mango tree, a pomegranate tree and banana plants in lieu of the manicured lawn and stilted shrubs favoured by my neighbours.
I love the smell of newly drenched earth. It evokes an almost instinctive response in me. I savour the fragrance and honestly wish I could bottle it so that I could breathe of it whenever I feel the need to beat stress. Today my children laugh and dance in the puddles when it rains. Even if it means their coughs get worse or they catch colds, I don’t have the heart to give them more than a token scowl when I see them at it – wet and dirty and having a blast. Truly the rains are magical and children always seem to know it better than the adults.

Real Indian cinema

Indian cinema is synonymous with Bollywood. That’s like saying European cinema means only Italian movies. Unfortunately it is true for anyone outside India looking in. The fact that Hindi cinema does in no way represent the culture or even spirit of all of India is one that is never publicised. Hence all of Indian cinema is assumed to be a senseless and overly long musical extravaganza.

I am not a fan of Hindi cinema. This perhaps could be because I am from Kerala. Now, I am not a proper Keralite since I grew up outside India and saw Hindi movies long before I saw my first Malayalam movie but even then I could feel the difference. I did love the songs and clothes in the Anil Kapoor movies that were the rage then (I was a kid – that must be my excuse!). So no one can point fingers at me accusing me of not knowing the language or its nuances or in being too “Madrasi” in my taste.

A Hindi movie is always the same – non-existent story, scanty clothes, improbable style sense and song sequences that are completely unwarranted. The actors change, the hemlines change but the underlying principle does not. I used to watch Hindi movies in college just after exams to relax my brain and yet I have walked out of a couple of Madhuri Dixit movies just because it was too much nonsense for me to watch without slipping into a coma.
A Malayalam movie is more down-to-earth. The characters are people who are not glamorous for the most part though the men play a role far younger than their real age. However the stories are genuine and believable. A fisherman’s daughter will look just like she is supposed to and will not sport designer labels or make-up even in an imaginary song sequence. Also there is never a question of ‘borrowing’ music or stories from Hollywood. Among Keralites there isn’t a passion for all things American either. In a sense Malayalam movies are very much like American movies of a certain era – they stand on their own merit and are original.

Over the last ten years, there’s been deterioration in the quality of Malayalam movies – actually I think that might be applicable to most of popular cinema around the world. There were movies fifteen years ago that have moved me to tears time and time again. There are actors like Mohanlal, Jagathy, Mammootty and Oduvil Unnikrishnan who have shown such subtlety on occasion that they feel more like a part of my family than actors. Its the very subtlety of the acting contrasting with the intensity of emotion and the full-out comedy that is the hallmark of good Malayalam cinema. When successful movies from Kerala are copied or remade in Hindi, they lose all their lustre because of lackadaisical acting and an overdose of glamour and songs in ordinary life situations. A regular story in Malayalam would never work in Hindi and for the benefit of both cinemas should never even be attempted.

Therefore it is truly sad that instead of recognising Bengali and Malayalam movies for their excellence, only Hindi movies are selected time and time again to represent India at the Oscars. Who on earth would think a Lagaan or an Ekalavya was even worthy to be viewed abroad let alone sent to the Academy of Motion Pictures as contenders? Greats like Satyajit Ray , Bharathan, Adoor, Padmarajan have made (and Adoor continues to make) excellent movies of unparalleled beauty but there is no one to showcase them because regional cinema is poor financially and could never match Bollywood in marketing.

Indian cinema has great talent and Hindi cinema has some movies from the non-commercial or small budget section that are truly enjoyable but labelling Hindi cinema alone as Indian has deprived the world of the pleasure of watching fine movies from various regions in India and has also deprived great filmmakers from being given their just dues and recognition.

Is that a baby in your soup?

My daughter has always asked me questions that are tricky to answer. She is five years old. I do hope the questions don’t increase in complexity exponentially with her growth. If she does, I’ll have to outsource the answering to her dad.

The other day we had a conversation that went like this:
Mahi (she was just back from school): Amma?
Me (struggling to get her out of her extremely sand-encrusted uniform): Yes?
Mahi: If you eat a lot, will you get a fat stomach?
Me: I don’t think you will ever get fat but it does depend on what you eat. Why?
Mahi: If you have a fat stomach, then you will have babies.
Me: Er..
Mahi: Lots of babies.
Me: Who told you that?
Mahi: All the people who have babies become fat!
Me: That’s true – but it’s not because they eat too much.
Mahi: Then why do they eat babies and put them in their stomach? You ate me and Appu , right?
Me: Of course not - I did not eat you and your brother – remember I told you you started small and got into my bellybutton?
Mahi: Okay but still if I eat a lot, my stomach will become big and I don’t want babies!!
Me: Eating a lot will not make you have babies and in any case you don’t eat anything!
Mahi: But what about you?
Me: I won’t have babies either. I have you and Appu.
Mahi: You should ask God not to give you any more babies, okay?
Me: Sure – okay...