60 seconds…60 seconds to earn a living! As the signal turns red at the Mayo Hall junction, a little girl all of 5 years steps on to the street. She looks dusty, rugged and certainly hasn’t had a bath since ages. In her hand is a piece of rusted iron ring, which looks like the remains of a building that has seized to exist. Deftly she drops this little ring through her skinny self. Her hand retards like a spring in action to let the ring through. 5 seconds later, she’s on to her second stunt doing a catapult on the sun baked...
The mind is agitated, emotions are running high. The very thought of being wronged-offended-hurt erupts an internal volcano that aggravates with time. Thoughts of politicization and distrust begin to take shape. Your angry, beyond bounds that you wish to remain aloof. It seems the world is against you and the person in question will never be forgiven. You wish to return the ‘favour’, by giving him a piece of your mind. There is a sense of insult that brews within you. “He shall never be spared”, you convince yourself. The very moment...
The sight of a wailing 2-year old, Moshe, the Jewish child , who lost both is parents during the shootout at Nariman point , remains etched in my memory .He continues to be in his world of bliss. As the little one grows older, 26/11 would remind him of a day that changed his life forever . The tragedy has had its share of heroes and martyrs who fought a valiant battle to remind the world of the “power of truth”. Every time I switch on the television these days, I am reminded of the countless people who lost their dear one’s. Words...
The mind is blank, thoughts aplenty, but nothing concrete that holds my attention . The world around me seems to be passing by , and I am struck in the maddening crowd without space ,direction or purpose . Its like a little child who has lost his way in the village fair , crying for help ,searching for his dear ones . I for once , do not know whether I am in search of someone , or in quest of an unfulfilled desire . As I stand in the balcony on a rainy winter afternoon, the chillness of the wind sends a little shiver down my spine ....
Having a hair cut on a Sunday, every month, has become more of a ritual in my life .I end up lazing on the barber’s chair, while he goes about exercising his skill at trimming the overgrown locks. The typical Indian barber shop is a fascination of colour, mirror and light’s where customers step in with the hope of changing their style to “look and live” the life of a film star. As the client eases into the chair , he finds the reflection of a stylish Amitabh Bachchan, Ranjikanth and Shahrukh Khan striking a heroic pose .With every...
“ Anger needs to be a positive emotion “, is a remarkable dialogue that I came across in a regional movie. More often I have only come across statements that degrade anger as an emotion that spells doom and most rightly so. However on the flip side controlled anger or aggression prevails in real life situations. Any emotion that governs an individual can be used either as a constructive or destructive tool. The choice is ours.
The mind is shattered. An unexpected change, an unexpected viewpoint, an unexpected result. I’m yet to come to terms with a certain action that has inflicted a wound that seems to aggravate with time. Varied thoughts lay scattered in my disoriented mind. It’s a moment of grief when I’m unable to decipher an answer. I’m for once feeling really low that my rational fails to cope with my emotional soul.
In all our lives there comes a time, when we are unable to interpret the laws of human nature, which is more so profound in a shattered mind. When mind is shattered, the thoughts are scattered!
The mind wavers. There is a specific goal and the method to achieve it is clear, yet the mind wavers because of stray thoughts that intrude my emotional soul. The human brain is funny; many a times it complicates simple matters. I have been working towards a goal. All I need to do is focus on delivering my best, yet certain unpleasant experiences of the past pervade my mind, creating an analysis of the possible results. The permutations and combinations of the possible end results are being analyzed, eliminating ‘lower risk ‘factors and creating a three dimensional possibility of the various results.
The very thought of meeting her estranged friend after years brought back nostalgic memories of those wonderful moments that had defined their lives. They had spent the prime of their youth together, in the same hostel room, sharing those little niggling secrets that failed to remain concealed within the ‘naughty heart’. Those were the days, when life was filled with mirth and bliss, and every man who passed their path, glared at their intoxicating beauty. They were the best of friends till one day, the strong emotional connect manifested itself into a fireball of mutual hatred. It was an unforgettable day, when their little insecurities snowballed into a controversy resulting in anger, mistrust, hatred and separation. It was the last time they shared a parting glance, to exist in a world ‘ignorant of the other’.
Life thrives on trust. You wish to believe in the people you interact with. They make your world; they give meaning to your life. Belief in people instills a confidence that you’re heading the right way, till one fine day, the bridge of trust collapses in the midst of a political hurricane. Your anguished, devastated, betrayed, only to realize that the bridge never existed in realty.
“It’s a Corporate World, people play their cards”, is so often heard. The fact however is, if you believe in your ability, you need not “play cards”.
The sultry heat on a midsummer afternoon is a depiction of sun god’s prowess on the petty human souls and the barren land that is being baked by his glowing furnace. I stood along the payment of the construction site, analyzing the changing dynamics of realty (that’s my profession). I dreaded this visit. The minute I stepped out of the cozy confines of my air-conditioned car, I was profusely sweating. In a minute I was soaked in a deluge of body fluids that ceaselessly flowed from every minute pore, like a ruptured pipe. I looked up, gazing at the concrete jungle to find skeletal figures working atop the roof, hundreds of feet high- it is a merciless profession and the very sight was painful.
“My name is Khan and Iam not a terrorist”, a relevant message, but sadly not compelling enough. My name is Khan is a movie, with its heart in the right place but lacks the conviction and power to steer up your emotions.
The movie from the Karan Johar camp is refreshingly different, as the director adopts a simplistic approach in dealing with a pertinent issue. The director goes beyond his trademark Grandeur and traditional family drama to describe the journey of the protagonist; an Aspergers patient, Rizwan Khan, who sets out to meet the president of the United States of America. The biggest problem with the movie is the fact that the very intent or message dilutes in the narrative. Whether the movie is a “Redemption of Love” or a “Journey for Righteousness” is left unanswered.
He stood admiring her beauty, unmindful of the maddening crowd. His eyes remained glued to her, while she was gossiping her way to glory, amongst a bunch of girls. She was bubbly, enigmatic and filled with character. The little lumps of flesh on her rosy cheeks blossomed like a flower, each time she blushed. These were moments of ecstasy. There was an unexplainable connect he established with this feminine soul that stood across the street, waiting for the signal to turn red. He felt like he had known her for ages and had been waiting for this blissful moment all his life.
It was well past 12 in the night and for a moment she felt a sudden surge of insecurity in the darkness of the club. The dim lights flashing across the room, made her feel secure in the obscure world, lest ‘known faces’ notice her. With every sip of Vodka, she felt the ominous presence of her father. She blurted apologies, falling on her knees, begging forgiveness, while her colleagues joined her emotional outcry, spilling beer as “One sane soul consoled the other”. Her father had been a disciplinarian, with strongly rooted values. With every sip of the drink, there was a growing sense of guilt and in order to overcome her pain she gulped a large at one go. She profusely cried like a child, while the loud music and darkness, camouflaged her emotions. It was insane, but she wanted to be insane to vent her concealed emotions of being in an estranged world.
The mind is agitated, emotions are running high. The very thought of being wronged-offended-hurt erupts an internal volcano that aggravates with time. Thoughts of politicization and distrust begin to take shape. Your angry, beyond bounds that you wish to remain aloof. It seems the world is against you and the person in question will never be forgiven. You wish to return the ‘favour’, by giving him a piece of your mind. There is a sense of insult that brews within you.
“He shall never be spared”, you convince yourself.
