Pushing away....

A year is not that long a period of time – in my mind the past year just sped by on the swiftest of wings. Add year on year, however and watch as a succession of years pass you by and you realize with a cold metallic dread deep inside that you have not much time left. A day seems so insignificant and yet count the number of days when you have said to yourself “I’ll do that later” or “It can wait for another day”. We create for ourselves a weary debt – promising to do tasks at some later time, a time perhaps that may not even find us capable of doing anything at all. Why do we all push our lives along reluctantly instead of tackling each day, our list of wishes? We keep postponing till tomorrow when tomorrow is not ours to hold on to. Today is what we have and we shamefully neglect that and grasp at an elusive tomorrow, pinning all our hopes on some vague illusory moment of time that may never materialize.

I am a master of postponement. I could write an entire book on the topic but of course I would simply push even that to tomorrow. Everyday I tell myself I should do the things I consider important and everyday I break my promise to do just that. It could be that none of these things are what I want to do or it could be that some tasks on the list are so frightfully difficult that a safe inertia seems desirable. Whatever the reason, I am a procrastinator extraordinaire. There have been a few days in my life when I have simply gone ahead and done something I set my mind on. They have invariably been things that have brought me pleasure and satisfaction or things that I was confident of doing well. The unknown and uncharted as well as the long-drawn, no-easy-solutions kind of problems are the ones that I never act on till its well nigh too late.

I am in the middle of at least three non-easy tasks. One is a lifelong project. The other is something I have wanted to do since I was nine years old and the third is the desire to act on a cause that is very close to my heart. I haven’t made significant progress in any of them – admittedly they all take time but there still needs to be a visible change, a movement towards the goal in question. The frustration therefore builds up – intentions alone will not get you anywhere. And meaningless action just tires you. Targeted action is what’s needed and not my daily procrastination.

Blogging is my way of thinking out aloud. Its the time I sit and look at my thoughts in black and white. I sometimes find solutions to my problems this way. Many a time I do not find answers but there is a feeling of achieving greater clarity in the questions itself. That helps too – oftentimes it is a confused question that befuddles the answer – simplifying what it is that you are looking for is a good way to start. I have always felt that if instead of feeling lost in a nebulous cloud of doubt, you can actually sit down and write an one-line description of what you want to achieve for a task or project or  wish, you are already on the way to getting to your goal.

And now, enough of procrastination – let me get to work :-)

Random thoughts

There are days when I feel blocked. As though my creative outlet were plugged with the debris of disenchantment and feelings build up and choke me. I haven’t written in a while – something seems to be missing or perhaps covered over with other worries. So today I decided to write whatever crosses my mind first and lighten the backlog of unspoken emotions. The music plays softly in the background and I sit at my laptop next to my window in the little nook where I always write. I feel the sensual weight of my dangling earrings, the slight tickle of an errant lock of hair brushing against my ever-sensitive ear, the persistent low-grade ache in my lower back, the heaviness under my eyes from a night of less-than-perfect sleep, the little knots of tension that signal an oncoming headache because of the million thoughts that race in my head trying to find their way to orderliness.

I wonder all of a sudden about how easy it is to find comfort in someone and forget how to be strong for oneself. To allow yourself to lean on another when some days seem difficult and then one fine day be besieged by a fear of losing that very comfort when one needs it most. For lose it I will – I know for a certain that my way ahead in life is different from most people around me. I have no respite from my worries over my child. Some days I am able to ignore it to a certain extent but other days it looms like a terrifying cliff that I see no way of scaling. I run away for a while by refusing to think but given my nature, that is never a solution – deluding myself is always temporary. I could be doing anything – watching a movie, laughing at a joke, reading a book, poring through documents, making dinner or listening to a song and out of the blue the pain of worry carried over a decade hits me so hard that I close my eyes and for an instant there is only darkness. Pulling myself out takes visible effort but I do it easily enough – I have had much practice.

Writing always makes me feel more alive. I see the interwoven strands of my thoughts and emotions and follow one silvery thread to its finish or I play with a dozen different strands and see the beauty in the interleaving. I woke up with the feeling that I needed more clarity and focus to complete a series of tasks I had assigned myself. The stress from the night before had not dissipated at all rather surprisingly. But as the morning passes, I feel better – less overwhelmed and more accepting of the thought that I will get everything done in my own time and that is as it should be.

The sunlight streams in through the window and I let its warmth bathe my face. It is a truly beautiful day outside. I feel more energized at the sight of a warm sunny day – and now, let me get back to work.....

Usthad Hotel - my take

Last week I watched a good Malayalam movie called ‘Usthad Hotel’. I was happy to experience something that was a few steps above the kind of stuff I get stuck viewing most of the time. A story well told and well executed captures anyone’s attention and brings home a simple truth that more filmmakers should take note of – you don’t need gimmicks and over-the-top hoopla to sell to the audience – just give us a good story and we’ll appreciate it.

The director, Anwar Rasheed has teased out natural performances from his talented cast. Thilakan, as Karim or Karimka as he is known, was outstanding but then he can play such roles with perfect ease. The lead character, Faizi was well played by Mammooty’s son Dulquer Salman – yes he has some way to go but considering that he is only a couple of films old, I would rate him quite high. He has screen presence and an easy affability writ large on his young face. He is definitely going places. 

The lead female character had nothing much to do and seemed to have been created solely because one cannot have a good-looking young male lead not be seen with a pretty girl. Plus you had to have the ‘Appam’ song! Nithya Menon did do justice to the largely forgettable role however. I was a little disappointed at seeing some superb actors being given insignificant roles – Mamukoya could have done with a meatier role, so could Lena whose role was that of  the eldest in a gaggle of older sisters and Praveena seems to be only in fleeting cameos in any movie she is part of. Siddique as the father was effortless and eminently watchable – again not surprising from this veteran.

Anjali Menon’s story was simply lovely. A refreshing change to see a feel-good theme which yet managed to pack in a few hard-hitting lessons. That’s the kind of entertainment that I enjoy and to judge from the movie’s success, a lot of people would agree with this view. The story was weak only in a few places, notably in the female lead character’s ability to be up traipsing around town half the night despite being from an ultra-conservative Muslim family – its still Calicut and that is nearly impossible to get away with even today. Another part of the story that was hard to swallow was the ease with which Faizi seemed to land unbelievable jobs in the gastronomical capitals of the world!

The story is set largely in Calicut, the place where I spent my memorable college years. Perhaps that’s why the sight of the beach and the market-place, roadside stalls and pickled ‘nellikas’ whisked me back to a time that sometimes seems to have passed just yesterday. Unlike my usual practice of writing the entire story down and giving away the ending to those who haven’t watched it, I have decided to curb my loquaciousness and limit myself to the barest outline. It is not an easy task but I do want my friends to watch the movie and not point out with mild irritation that I have ruined their viewing experience by revealing too much!

Faizi is the only son of his dad and he plops out into the world after a disappointing series of four daughters. His birth is hailed and celebrated with great joy. His mother Fareeda (Praveena) doesn’t last too long after giving birth to five kids in record time and she passes away leaving him to be taken care of by his sisters and father. The father is only interested in Faizi and dreams of the day when he can hand over his fast-expanding Dubai-based business ventures to his beloved son. The kids grow up in Dubai largely by themselves (another ill-explained part of the movie) and seemingly in the kitchen nearly all the time. He learns to cook from his sisters and he enjoys himself so much that he secretly does a culinary course in Switzerland instead of the MBA his dad thinks he had spent his money on.

The truth comes out during a girl-viewing ceremony which is foisted on him as soon as he lands in Calicut on the express instructions of his sisters who fear that some foreign woman would sink her claws into their precious brother. The girl being viewed is Shahana (Nithya Menon) who calmly tells him she has no particular interest in getting married to him or anyone else but she has no choice being a part of this very traditional family. When his father finds out the truth about his degree, he is understandably upset and takes away his credit cards and passport in the hopes of teaching him a lesson. Faizi meanwhile is frantic because he has a great job lined up in London – as a sous chef in a famous restaurant and has no means of getting there. 

To cut a long story short, Faizi goes to his grandfather (Thilakan) whom he hasn’t seen in years and is made to work like a dog in order to meet Karimka’s standards of perfection for his legendary albeit run-down eatery known simply as Usthad Hotel. He learns that no job is beneath him, that one should cook with one’s soul, that money is not the most important thing in the world. He sees his grandfather taking care of the employees as if they were family all the while struggling to repay a loan and on the brink of losing all he held dear. He asks him why he doesn’t charge more while spending on the finest ingredients for his famous Malabari Biryani. His grandfather tells him that anyone can cook and feed so as to leave a person with a full stomach but to leave someone with a full heart is something only those who have that special touch are capable of. And for his grandfather, seeing his customers satisfied in mind and body was a wonderful gift – it inspired him to cook with consummate perfection.

A lot of ups and downs later, Faizi realizes that it is up to him to keep his grandfather’s tradition going and he revamps the Usthad Hotel in style, making the hotel profitable and even more popular. And then he gets the offer of a lifetime as executive chef in a new restaurant in Paris (a bit of a stretch for me – that part!) and announces to all and sundry that he is leaving for his dream job. His grandfather has a predictable heart attack but thankfully, the aftermath is not emotional blackmail but rather a blessing to his grandson to live the life he always wanted. He had only one request – could Faizi deliver his monthly cheque to a place in Madurai together with a message to a Mr Krishnan? A relieved Faizi happily agrees and lands up in Madurai by bus the very next day.

He finds himself in the most unusual place he has ever seen. Loads of food were being prepared, packed neatly and taken in vans to distribute to the poorest of the poor in Madurai. He is asked by Krishnan to go along and he witnesses with teary eyes the love with which the poor are fed to fullness. He learns the importance of giving and the joy of cooking with love. My favourite line in the movie is by Krishnan when he explains to Faizi this simple truth “If you offer a person anything else – money, material objects – he or she will always want more but if you offer them food, no matter how hungry they are, they will not ask for more once they have had their fill – they will say ‘enough’.” This character is said to be inspired by a real life hero named Narayanan Krishnan of the Akshaya Trust who somehow does not seem to have been mentioned anywhere – here’s a link to his story http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAl_0JaDJqY&feature=youtu.be

Faizi comes back to Usthad Hotel much wiser in the ways of the world. The ending is a feel-good one which I should point out, I have in no way revealed ;-) One comes back from watching this movie with the same contentment one experiences after having had an excellent biryani – deliciously full and craving only for the suleimani chai that is the perfect ending of all things good. Go watch it – I am betting you’ll love it as much as I did :-)

Not enough time...

I have often wondered whether we would live our lives the way we do now if we knew how much time each of us have left. Would we continue in a routine existence only bothered about going through a day at a time? Would we let go of all we are comfortable with and try to live life to the fullest? Would we go insane knowing that we had only ‘x’ number of hours and spending the rest of the time berating fate and getting confused as to what to do at all? Or would we sit down and list all the things we ever wanted to do and go about doing it in the time available? I do not know if I would have the courage to go after what I want most if I knew when my time would be up. I probably would since after a point I forget fear completely – especially when there is literally nothing to lose. 

But truly how many of us can plan for the time ahead that we have? Daily life takes its toll – we frequently get lost in the details and fail to see the big picture. When my father passed away ten years ago, we knew it was coming but we still didn’t know when. Perhaps one of the hardest things to do is attempt to act out a normal life when in reality you are screaming inside – I wasn’t very successful I know – my father knew that my eyes reflected hopelessness. I couldn’t hide it – I can’t hide most of my emotions now either. 

The cancer happened and it took him away. I was left for many years with the images of his illness – the images of happier times totally escaped me. But the worst part was the long list of things I wanted to do for my dad that I never got round to doing. I thought I had all the time in the world. His life had always been one of incredible hard work and sacrifice. And he was always smiling. How I wanted him to be proud of me! How I longed to show him great places and make him try all kinds of exotic food  - how I wanted to create new dishes with him for he was so passionate about food but I didn’t have the time then and a few years later he didn’t have any time left.

It is only when you lose someone important that you realize that there were so many unfinished stories left to write – that all those times when you said “alright, next time” precluded a next time that was never fated – that the last words that you ever said were not the ones you would have wanted to say if you knew you’d never have a second chance. I didn’t see my dad passing away – he left my house a few days before that – and I so wish my last words to him were “I love you” – instead they were banal and mundane and I didn’t even wake up my infant son to let him kiss his grandfather one final goodbye. Endings without closures haunt me too much. I can take anything if given the chance to realize closure – its like the pain of a closed wound which is healthier than the festering of an open one.

Never think you have enough time for later. If there is anything you want to tell your loved ones now, do it. It always makes a difference. If there is anything that you have always wanted to do for or with them, do it now – there may not be a tomorrow every single time. We have only so many hours...

Ijaazat ...

It was one of those mornings where the atmosphere was simply too inviting to sit down to serious work. The sound of the leaves of African Tulip tree rustling briskly in the breeze together with the bright sunshiny day made me want to sit quietly and enjoy the morning rather than read and write documents. After chatting with a friend for a while, I thought I would watch this movie I was told I would like – an old Hindi movie called Ijaazat circa 1987 directed by the immensely talented Gulzar based on a Bengali story Jatugriha by Subhodh Ghosh. It had some of my favourite actors in it and so I got myself a cup of tea and began to watch the movie.

The movie starts with Mahender (Naseeruddin Shah) alighting from a train on a rainy day and running to the first class waiting room where there are a few other people. A woman starts with shock when she sees him and tries to hide behind a magazine she holds up. It is only later that he spies Sudha (Rekha) and looks at her awkwardly. They are meeting after five years.

The scene then shifts to one set years ago showing Mahinder, who is a successful photographer visiting his grandfather (Shammi Kapoor) and being told quite firmly that his extra-long engagement of five years was simply unacceptable and that he would be married the following month as decided upon by his grandfather. Mahinder is quite unhappy over the development as he has been living with Maya (Anuradha Patel) and loves her deeply. She wasn’t interested in marriage however and was a spirited fairy-like creature whose feet never touched the ground. She would come and go as she pleased – lavishing affection on him and behaving in the most unexpected manner possible at other times. She was unpredictable, ever-changing and beautiful – a very exciting combination. And she loved him fiercely.

Mahender approaches Sudha whom he is engaged to and tells her about his dilemma. He doesn’t want to antagonize his grandfather – would she back off from the wedding? She smiles and tells him to think over it and do only the right thing. He goes back home in search of Maya and doesn’t find her – she has left him only a few verses – she was capable of disappearing for months and he grew frantic with the realization that he wouldn’t be able to find her. Eventually he gives up and marries Sudha as arranged.

They are shown living together happily enough except for the spectre of Maya hovering between them always. Sudha is a good wife, who runs the house exceptionally well and takes care of her husband’s needs perfectly. She is also traditional and cannot help be possessive especially when she sees the look on her husband’s face as he talks about Maya. He was never intentionally insensitive but to Sudha, there was too much of the unconventional Maya in their house. Every where she turned she would see some vestiges of her stay – her letters which Mahinder hoarded, her pictures in out of the way places or her clothes – the ones that she left behind. Mahinder loves his wife and tries hard to make her understand that he’s been perfectly honest with her and that he was indeed trying hard to get on with his life. Sudha was never demanding or questioning but the tangible presence that Maya left behind gnaws at her soul and erodes it slowly so that she feels very lost.

The interplay of emotions between the absent Maya and the couple is portrayed so well that one almost feels that the marriage is a weird bringing together of three people rather than two. Mahinder is tugged both ways. Sudha moves from stoic acceptance to disgust and misery when she suspects Mahinder of reviving his relationship with the electric Maya. Unknown to her he had spent time with Maya because she was in the hospital following a suicide attempt. She sees her poetry in unexpected places. Deep inside her she knows she is an ordinary woman who could not match the alluring Maya. Mahinder tries to get Maya home so that he can explain things and the two women can meet. Sudha is adamant that she would not have that woman in her house. He tells her its his house too and goes off to get her later in the evening but having heard Sudha’s anger over the phone, Maya leaves again for parts unknown with no warning and a frustrated Mahinder returns to find that Sudha has left him – he cannot take the shock and gets a heart attack. After spending a month in the hospital, he gets back home where Maya moves in to take care of him.

When Maya is with him, he still thinks that Sudha will return some day and looks forward to it. Its almost as if he cannot make up his mind which craves for Maya when he is with his wife and longs for the care and stability of his mature wife when he is with the crazy temptress. One day he receives a letter from Sudha saying she is willing to let him go free so he can marry Maya and not to reply to her because she was leaving for parts unknown. He is so upset that Maya realizes that he wants very badly to get his wife back. The hopelessness of her situation hits her. She runs off saying she would bring her back and Mahinder loses his temper saying she would for once, stay out of it or he would personally strangle her. Late that night he wakes to the sound of Maya starting the motorcycle and dashing off at reckless speed. He follows her but cannot reach her in time – she has had a horrible accident when the ends of the scarf wound round her neck get entangled in the bike wheels and she is strangled to death.

Most of the movie is shown as a flashback interspersed with scenes in the waiting room where Mahinder and Sudha reach an uneasy truce and pass the night in a surreal mockery of the domestic bliss they had once known. As the night passes, their awkwardness melts away till he unfolds the entire story of what happened to him in the years since she walked out on him. She bursts into tears at the mention of Maya’s death and busies herself getting his things together since it is almost time for their trains. He is about to ask her about herself when her husband (played by Shashi Kapoor) rushes in grateful to see her alright after spending an uncomfortable night due to her train’s last minute cancellation. He so obviously adores her and chatters away happily apologizing because he couldn’t get there earlier. He follows the coolie out with her luggage while she lags behind and tells Mahinder “ Five years ago I left you without seeking permission – I am asking you now – may I leave?” He looks at her searchingly and wishes her joy and a happy life. She sobs and touches his feet which perplexes her husband till he guesses who it might be. They leave and the movie ends.

The story by itself is beautiful and touches you at all the right spots. The actors were all perfect for their rules. But it is in the untold lines that the true spirit of the movie lies – those suggested moments between the protagonists unburdened by a graphic depiction – that is what made the movie very special to me. The songs too underscored the storyline and blended in very naturally.

My favourite scene in the movie was possibly I think the one that epitomized the warring emotions and complexity of the three main relationships. Sudha finds some expensive clothes of Maya’s and asks Mahinder to return it to her. He looks at her quietly while she hurriedly says she has no problem with them being in the house except that maybe Maya would be in need of those articles. Mahinder says he will send them with their servant and she asks him to take it himself – he refuses. The next scene shows the two of them coming home late at night from some outing when the servant hands them a telegram from Maya. It was actually a whole letter sent telegraphically. He takes it to Sudha and says “This then is Maya...” – he then reads out the poem ...which moves Sudha to tears leading her to rue the act of sending back Maya’s things. The poem is “Mera kuch samaan” and the words are stunningly evocative of a love that is so intense that it leaves an indelible mark – some things can be returned and yet how does one get back the beauty of a shared night or a moment of laughter that one has left behind?

Do watch this movie if you haven’t before or even if its been years since you watched it. Its like a perfectly polished cinematic jewel with every facet reflecting one more layer of complexity and yet having all the facets come together to create an object of unsurpassed loveliness.