LETTERS FROM PAST

to a distant stranger...

After so long I am back to my own self today...back to my own self, like when I was in my school days...in my teens...in my college days...i am back to my own uncaring self...I dont know if u ever take a portion of your time to read whatever bull shit i write...but I am happy that I can still write to an unknown person who won’t judge me for "whatever reasons!" (even though it goes unread...ultimately the god has left the human being to live with hope)...hence this letter tonight.

It’s been a "Day" for me...

It would have been great if I was hit by a BMW...It would have been my pleasure...but by an "auto rickshaw"!! That too in a city like Delhi! Kismat hi kharaab hai..!! 

Anyway being hit was alright...because I was worried about more serious things then...But my test results came negative...Hurray!! According to those complicated X-Ray machines, all machines in my body are doing their job pretty well...

"Lungs, Kidney, Heart…all well" 

And to get that X-Ray done...I had to forge a signature...

And still I am here in my rat hole unable to diagnose what exactly is happening to my body!! 

God…! Okay...if at all there is somebody out there by that nomenclature is pretty complicated man...By the way how can you say that He is a Man…That person could be a woman too...the language is also patriarchal ..Trap of words....I am scared to even utter a word...the moment a person is born...he/she falls into the trap of words first…Words I feel is a trap which you can hardly escape...but the rapture of being trapped in words always gives me a kick...

Just that I am drifting away with my thoughts...it’s been a long week and these doctors out there are not able to diagnose what's wrong with me..! Losing 6 to 7 kilo grams in a month would have been great had I been one of those typical "diet freak dudettes" over here in Delhi...

Ohh by the way, I saw one of your status updates in FB, 

"Job opportunity in India for hangmen...476 convicts on death row & after today's SC dismissal of Bhullar plea ,the gallows will be busy!”

I think that’s a damn good job...I can give it a try...to "Kill" people...I always had that killing instinct in me, the raw animal instinct and I get goose-bumps every time I watch a Quentin Tarantino movie..."Kill Bill" is my all-time favourite...and "Pulp Fiction"...What a wonderful way to kill...I think the traditional "hanging system" should be changed... The Indian government should be more innovative while killing the convicts...a more sophisticated and an easy method...may be Katju will have a better idea I guess...

This reminds me of a Malayalam movie which starts with a crisis...a police station is in need of a hangman, since all the hangmen get killed by the convict's gang on the day he is supposed to be hanged. The police and the government post pones the date of conviction just because they are unable to find a hangman...and finally they arrange a hangman from Tamil Nadu who also gets killed on his way to the police station on the day of conviction...the story goes on like that...An interesting movie....So I think, taking life and giving life is something great...in fact that is the power of the Powerful...

I think I am becoming an "absurdist" in my life…bitter truths...thank God the Truth is not singular...Your truth...My truth...mamma's truth...dad's truth...truth and truths....

Ohh...how desperately I wish I could get out, see and talk to people out there....but no...the poet still echoes in me…

“The "UNREAL CITY"....and there lie the corpses...

"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,  

Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?  

Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?  

Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,  

Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!"

...with his nails he'll dig it up again...!!!

And now the clock ticks...and my eyes are heavy...

Regards

N

LETTERS FROM PAST

to a distant stranger...

Hi...

This happened years before. But now when I look back I feel that that was just yesterday. At times there is a great need to comprehend with circumstances and a great demand to define oneself with time. Today when one of the interns in my office said that he hasn't even seen a telegram, I was wondering, "Do I belong to a different era altogether?" I felt so distanced, odd and I don’t know how to explain that feeling.

**** 

I was in 8th STD if am not wrong. It was not rainy season; still it was drizzling on that day. Physics class were always boring for me. In fact the subject was not boring but the teacher was. He was short statured with hairs like barb wires ready to snarl at anyone, the hair was as scary as that of Einstein's but without his innocence. Even when he wrote E=mc square on the black board, one could see his impish eyes protruding out through his spectacles thirsty to catch someone acting naughty during his period. I still don't understand what kind of heavenly pleasure teachers attain while throwing a piece of chalk at somebody's head! He was as thin as a stick, in fact he resembled some malnourished uncle from Somalia and who can forget the fresh droplets of saliva spraying out of his mouth every time he said his masterpiece dialogue, "whaaat is your pRobLem!!” with a strong mallu accent, with a special emphasis on pRRoBBLLem...!! Problem's BLEM came like the "BLLLUUUUM" sound when you throw a piece of stone into river just like that! So I was literally "enjoying" his class trying to solve physics proBLems..!

The physics period was about to finish and then it was lunch time. And it was my favourite day of the week- Monday...the only day when we get fish fries for lunch. I was dreaming about the yummy crispy fish fries, praying to God ardently, that I get the biggest piece of Fish. I was even wondering if I will get the middle part, head or the tail of fish. Even the memory of Fish made me forget about all pRoBLems of my Physics teacher. So there I am dreaming for the biggest chunk of fish and here comes my house master. She interrupted my physics teacher and they had some discussion after which my Physics teacher calls out my name and declares "Neethu ElDose(with special emphasis on D, again his masterpiece), you have a telegram" !! BANG!! on my ears and I woke up from my "fishy dreams" and looks up! Did he really say that I got a telegram! Or was that part of my fishy dream! Reluctantly I got up from my seat and slowly walked towards the door. My house master says, "Follow me"!

And i walked behind her with my heart pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears! I didn't know much about telegram then, but one thing was for sure. Nobody sends you a telegram for fun. Ohh! Somebody died! I had seen it in films and read a lot about that in fictions! People get telegrams when they lose their jobs or somebody is dead or critical! OMG! Who will sent me a telegram! That too to my residential school! My granddad's is still not bed-ridden and why would they sent me a telegram! They should send it to my mom and dad! Who on earth will sent me a telegram, that too to my school address! My heart pounded so loud as ever! ohhhh! my mom! my dad! who died! How could they die so fast? I have learnt in biology that human beings have a life span till 80 years or so...and they are not that old! an accident! Did they have an accident! I was reminded of Oliver Twist! Will I become an orphan! OMG! I was going mad! 

Finally I gathered all my courage and asked my house master, "Are you sure that it is for me! It might be a mistake!" She was as arrogant as ever! I felt like banging on her head! Still I controlled myself and went up to the post man. Even while I was signing on the papers my hands were shivering. And finally there it was! A telegram! Finally like all those desperate heroines in Television soaps, with all drama, I gazed on it...there was a single liner at the bottom of that printed piece of paper, all in caps,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOLU**...! with love Papa"

A zillion emotions rushed inside me...I don't remember if was crying or smiling...And yes, It was my birthday....

****In memory of my first and last telegram to my distant stranger...also in celebration of period when mobile phone was just a figment of imagination

** MOLU in malayalam means Bitiya...Daughter...

Regards

N

LETTERS FROM PAST

To my distant stranger...

There was a time when both the the God and man lived together. Soon after His first creation of mankind, the God gifted him a box. It was closed. And the God had only one condition. "Never open the box!" The man was happy but remained curious all the time about the box. He had an itching desire to know what was there inside that mysterious box. He couldn't resist himself from opening it. After numerous sleepless nights one day he decided to open the box when God was away. Finally he opened that mighty box....There you go...and in a wink of an eye, everything inside came out one after the other and man realized his mistake and suddenly closed it...But alas!! Suddenly there was the Voice of the God. "I warned you not to open that box"! The man stood with his head down..and the God said..."now you have lost everything. Love, Wealth, Wisdom...etc. ! And now there is only one thing left in that box...HOPE!" Rest all disappeared into thin air the moment he opened the box. God punished man by sending him to earth to live with Hope..And that's how even when the last string of Hope disappears, he still Hope's...hoping for a miracle till  the last iota of life sustaining molecules refuse to hold his life.

So what happens when the Hope refuses to Hope...What happens when even that final trump card slithers through your fingers and you are destined to watch that helplessly. What happens when you are even denied that option to Hope! What happens! What happens after that!!

My grandmother passed away when I was 7 years old. I hardly knew her since we lived separately. It was at midnight. Our land phone started was ringing endlessly. Dad picked up the phone and then there was a 'hush-hush' situation. Mom's eyes were as red as a blood. We started at midnight from Palakkad. Ernakulam was 4 hours distant. I did'nt understand what was happening but knew that something was wrong. That was when I first saw a death. I didnt know why all was crying and I was wondering why my granny is sleeping outside the home and that too with her thick black framed spectacles still fitted perfectly on her face, and tears in everyone's eyes...pin-drop silence...religious hymns in the background gave the whole scene a sober touch. After some I also started to cry, not because my granny passed away just because my mom was crying so badly...

After that I have seen so many deaths. My neighbour who used to play with me ended her life infront of a running train just because she failed in the 10th class examination. Another young girl in my neighbourhood got killed after she was hit by a truck while returning back home from her tution classes. That was not even her fault. And in my residential school,I stayed in the room where a 9th class student committed suicide. Her parents were divorced and she was traumatised with all that was happening with her in life. One of her parents came to school to meet her during parent's day(That's the d-day on which we can spend some time with our parents in the school premises for a stipulated time...sigh!!). Her voice still echoes in that room...and that room's door still remain un repaired, even after all these years...its a wooden door and the door still has the scratches which she made during her final moments of her life...when she was gasping for her last breath after the noose got tightened round her neck...did she cry? Was there tears in her eyes? Did she think of her mom? her dad? but why? why? why did she have to end her life? Had she been alive, she would have been 10 years elder than me.

I dont know why i am talking about death this time...may be I was always enchanted by the mystery of death...and I love it when Plath says..."Dying is an art...and I do it exceptionally well...."

Regards
N

LETTERS FROM PAST

tO a diStanT stRanGer...

Hello...

A good day to start writing a letter to an 'unknown' person...Locked up in my rat hole for three days...breathing and devouring antibiotics...missing all fun and busy work at RS...glued on to the internet...my only source to watch all the squinted eyed anchors throwing questions like a piece of bone to anxious tamed carnivores out there and end up leaving a trail of dust and vanish into thin air with a sigh once again! (aside: ohh that was another wilderness created by me! sigh! sigh)


Waiting for a miracle to happen...figuring out the contours on my wall which will nicely pass off as an African or an American map...thanks to the summers and all these cheap brick and mortar buildings in Delhi! 

When you said on the other day with a deep grave look..."start writing letters to me!", I was trying hard to read your eyes beyond spectacles...Did he really mean that!! or was he just kidding? Does he sound like my dad who always wanted me write letters for him every single day!! This man seems to be CRAZZY...(sorry that I am frank at times...without even thinking about the dire consequences)But I like your idea...You are not that crazy...



Okay...Now I am even trying to forget the statement that you made..."I will judge you from your letters!" I always wonder...is'nt there a predicament awaiting there when somebody make such a statement...May be..and right now I intend to forget about that too (still realizing that I am willfully falling into the trap of words) ...Because I can hardly pretend, however hard I try....I am a simple village bred girl with a trace of innocence still left in me (that's what "I" think and may be not by many of "them" out there)


Still remember those days back in my school when I used  to write compulsory letters to my mom, dad and my brother...thanks to my residential schooling...in fact 7 years of voluntary confinement,...i like to call it that way...I accidently qualified an entrance examination while I was barely 12 years old after which I ended being a part of the Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya...a place where one will be leisurely tamed and brought up with the tax payer's money... But then I used to write in post cards so that my house master could censor all 'un-parliamentary' stuffs that I wrote in that letter, before she dumped it in the common letter box in school...I cherished writing long letters to my friends and my teachers...and of course I loved receiving letters back too...So now here I am...writing letter to a person whom I have just met once and not even know him personally, writing all these horrendous stuff...in fact a verbal diarrhea...


I remember...you said I could write about butterflies...ohhh! wish I could...but butterflies are not made for this pretentious Delhi...and then I thought of a plethora of options I could write about...cigarettes, alcohol, news, politics, wine, myths, culture, yakshi, cinema, music, food...and least...my own egoistic Self! But nothing prevails now expect the predominance of medicines...i reek of antibiotics...and may be my blood reeks of antibiotics...and wish I could just pull up myself so that I could get out and get some fresh air...meet people and listen to them....I wonder whether you will have the patience and time to reply back for this letter...But I enjoyed writing this to you...

Regards

N

a long gap...but am back to my blogs :)

‘KHAN’ RULES OUT

Once again democracy rules the roost. After much hue and cry the ‘cliff hanger’ over the release of ‘My Name Is Khan’ ended on an exultant note. The whole situation exemplifies the dictum:” personal is political. ”The pot-boiler sprung out from the actor and co-owner of Kolkata Knight Riders, Sharukh Khan’s reluctance to apologize for saying Pakistani Cricketers should have been picked for the Indian Premier League. Even though the Shiv Sena activists under the leadership of Bal Thackeray triumphed in stimulating a tremor down the spines of Mumbaikars, the public walked out valiantly in order to watch their favourite star’s block-buster. Theatre owners of Inox, Fun cinema and other multiplexes in Mumbai were dwindling in their decision whether to screen the film or not. Finally the whole array of events led to a climax with a cathartic effect. The tickets were auctioned on eBay for *1000[rs.6000] and sold out in five seconds at the Berlin International Film Festival.

Mr. Khan’s obduracy in clinging on to his stand amidst the controversy extracted much support from the film industry too. Earlier Karan Johar, the director of the film was also been criticized and made to apologize to Raj Thackeray[MNS]for using ‘Bombay’ instead of ‘Mumbai’ in one of his films. Thackeray even went to the extend of calling Sharukh Khan “a traitor”. The brothers’[MNS & Shiv Sena] effort to build up a political niche by blind folding the people through ‘fake tradition’ and ‘jingoism’ by problematising narrow issues finally defunct in a quagmire; in effect the backlash helped only to blacken the image of respective parties. The protest against this kind of parochial politics is the triumph of Republic and Democracy which cuts through the subterfuge to attain the desired end.

The political and public interference; say for instance the enthusiasm shown by the Maharashtra Home Minister R.R. Patil and other ministers to promote the screening of the film has been quite appreciative. It is not a question of screening the film which matters but the profound question of ‘rights’: the right to freedom; freedom of opinions and freedom to do anything that law abides. To curtail that right is to violate the Law and Constitution. Politics is not a child’s play and no party has the right to deny public freedom and opinion in a democratic set up like India through threats and violence

1. DREAM

South Korea/2009/colour/95’/Korean Japanese
Screen play, Editing, Direction:Kim Ki Duk

The film delves deep into the psyche of a young man called Jin.Fantacy and Realism are intertwined in such a manner that one forgets to draw a line between the two.Joe Odagiri,the smashing protagonist donnes his role perfectly well to suit the situation. The dream sequence of Jin materializes into real life situation for Ran. The mental and physical agony of a somnambulistic person is depicted perfectly well by the female protagonist. The unusual chemistry developed between them is also captured well within the frame; which questions the intricasies of human relationship. Cinematography is excellent.

2. BROKEN EMBRACES
Spain/2009/colour/127’/Spanish-English

Director, Screenplay: Pedro Almodovar

Almodovar is a director who posses an unusual skill to employ ‘colour’ as device in his films. The right blend of colours provides not only a visual pleasure but also a wide range of implications. In his film “Volver” also he has employed such techniques. The narrative technique is quite different from the mainstream one. Its a kind of flashback which results in a question of identity crisis in a writer’s life. His life switch off between Henry Caine and Mateo Blanco.Shakespeare asked "what is in a name?" Ofcourse there is; the name as part of one's own identity which may be physical,or psychological, which provide deeper implications in life.The pseudonym applies to his literary work but the film he directs carries his real name.Its to forget his for love the heroine of his unreleased film, that he goes on with his psuedonym.Its romance at the same time a real life-like situation.

3.FISH CHILD

Argentina-france-Spain/2009/96’/Spanish-Guarain
Direction,Screenplay: Lucia Pueuzo


The film is woven around a local myth of the story of ‘Fish child’. The lesbian lovers dream of living together in Paraguay and do all they can to attain their means. Though Keralites find it a bit difficult to acknowledge the same-sex love, the story touches the chord of our emotions. Guayi and Lala remind us of the two lovers in Kamala Das’ story. Director adopts a different technique in telling the story effectively.

4.ANTICHRIST

Denmark-Germany-France-Sweden-Italy/2009/English
Direction,Screenplay: Lars Von Trier

Though the film is musical in the beginning it takes a tragic turn after. The film is a subversion of the Biblical allusion and employs symbols and images. The guilty conscience of the woman that she has committed a sin leads to a series of events that culminates in the destruction of their life. The psychological trauma of the wife lands them in ‘Eden’ [a Biblical reference], to help her conquer her fears. Nature is a strong symbol in the film. Fear inhabits them both…The way in which the title ‘Antichrist’ is written makes a difference, the inverted cross .Its a misogynistic film mixed with cold violence and sex.


5.NYMPH

Thailand/2009/35mm/94’/Thai
Direction,Screenplay: Pen-Ek-Ratanaruang

Film is quite contemporary and opens up a scope for ecocritical reading. The story radically subverts a myth using the sources of our contemporary angst: the technological divides , illicit affairs and ecological destruction. Nymph, which is a tree spirit, analogical to our mythical character say, Yakshi is a kind of trap. We can also read it through a different perspective, that it’s a return to nature; the identification of man with nature in spite of all the technological boom and innovations. though the firs sequence of the film kindle a strain of horror but fails miserably in its attempt .The film is also a bit lagging but the camera techniques seem to excel above all.

FILMS I DIDN’T LIKE
1. LAND OF SCARE CROWS
Korea/france/2008/Colour/90’/Korean

Direction,Screenplay: Roh Gyeong Tae

As per the review the film is about a transgender who becomes the cause for the destruction of a village. The film from beginning to the and still remains a riddle for me and most probably all who watched the film shared the same experience. Because of “par excellence” of the film the theatre became empty after the first half was over. The theme was good[according to the review] but it “failed to communicate” well. Shots seem to lack a continuum and the whole film was an utter flop.


2.NUCIGEN HOUSE
France-Romania-Chile/2008/colour/94’
Direction, Screnplay: Raul Ruiz

“The absurdit fairy tale freely based on Balzac story" says the review.It would have been better if it remained a story in book.Though the film bagged a series of awards internationally,the theatre was boowed down by the audience.The 'horror scenes' made us giggle and we "enjoyed

LETTERS FROM PAST

to a distant stranger...

hi...

The train has just started moving. I procured my favourite seat with a cup of coffee. The aroma of coffee took me back to warmth of memories…mamma’s coffee…her warm hugs…my first love…waves…sea…rain…

The hot wind matters no more neither do the scorching sun. Dreams devoured my coffee or the coffee devoured my dreams. Still the bitter-sweetness remains, clinging to the brim…afraid to shatter…yet unable to unite. The empty cup with coffee stains cling on…unable to go off…unable to let it go…it was easy bUt “NO”. The train is gathering momentum. Wind unleashed its power and Nature overpowers…I lost my grip…and the cup was gone with wind instantly!!! Gone forever…into wilderness. The transposed feeling of emptiness hammers in my head…the feeling of getting lost…losing something, everything…the threat of uncertainty?? bUt am not unhappy…am waiting …awaiting for another cup of coffee…yet another…still another…to enjoy…to empty and to alienate.

Regards

N

PS: This was the last letter to my distant stranger which I could never sent...

Parallel Lines

"Mother" is "this"or "that",everyone said
But I never felt-
She never understood me
I never understood her.
A wide gap.............
Silence was better.Because
It could be an excuse,
It could be anything.
Unsaid is always better than
what is said.
I always wanted to be on my own.
But her shadow merged with mine
She wanted me to be in her line
But I had my own.
I remember the Maths teacher who taught:
"Parallel lines never coincide"
Will anyone disprove it?

BASICALLY YOU ARE ALL GIRLS!!!!!

It was raining cats and dogs.I had no way other than to take refuge in the waiting shed till she came back from the church graveyard.I cursed my memory which always betrayed me in taking an umbrella.She was my dear friend with whom I spend seven years of my residential school life.Our school was a microcosm where we lived in an entirely different world alienated from the usual school life;where we had to make ourselves fit for the fight outside the four boundaries of our campus.

She was an extraordinary sensible girl who tried to weave her net of life like a spider but was annoyed to find herself already in the intangible mesh of fate.The strict residential school life,even from the age of eleven taught us to follow the Darwinian principle in our life.Though hostel life was amusing at first,things were different after two-three years.

Time flees away cunningly without even making others aware of the changes it make in one’s life.Like seasons change she was also changing.Transformation is somewhat terrible when it shake out the very basement of the self-made framework of presumptions and ideologies.She despised her warden who always chewed the same cud after each and every night roll call,“You know basically you are all girls” giving particular emphasis at the words “basically”and “girls”;as if it was all our fault that we were born as girls,after all she was also a woman.Hearing this we felt like dumping her into a large tumbler with boiling water in it.

It was the day when we were promoted to 9th standard.During those days it was compulsory for girls to wear “dupatta” from 9th standard onwards,for the study time during night at the school building.The echo of boys howling at very moment we entered wearing “dupatta”still reverberates in my ears and this was something she could’nt tolerate.,but I consoled her and told her to take it as a mere joke.But then,there ensued a sword play with words between my friend and one of the quarrelsome boys in our class who always found an impish pleasure in pasting the chewing gum especially in her bench.Unfortunately our warden was the duty-in- charge that day and she happened to hear her shouting at the top her voice against the boy.

After the usual night roll call ‘speech’ she was given a one hour extra ‘moralising class’ by our warden,who was not even ready to hear her arguments;but always insisted upon the fact that “basically you are all girls.”

Amidst the tough hostel life,it was her mother whom she really missed.She could never understand her mother completely and always felt that her mother completely and always felt that her mother had woven a hard shell around her which was really difficult for her to penetrate.Six hours of Parents Visiting day could’nt cement up the gap between them.But they loved each other and always wanted to say something which both could’nt tell.

Vacations were like a cool downpour in the scorching sun.She was always confused with her ‘home’and ‘hostel’.Was home her ‘hostel’or hostel her ‘home’?She felt herself like a migrating bird that always came back to spend a few days at a wonderful place.

She slept with her mother whenever her father went for night shifts and it was during such hours that she gave vent to all her emotions and thoughts.Her mother poured out her ideas about the coincidences in life,about the unconquerable Fate and about the other sides of life.Her mother always said that ‘to get a good life-partner was the same as to win a lottery.’Though she could’nt imbibe everything that her mother said,she never counter-questioned her.But time revealed all the mysteries and secrets behind her mother’s words.

It was during such a vacation that they saw an astologer who was employed in a jewelry shop for identifying one’s birth stones.After learning her birth sign he asked with surprise.”are you still living with your husband?”;for which her mother’s response was a rhrtoric smile.

She could’nt sleep that night.The astrologer’s words echoed in her ears,”its surprising that you are not divorced still.”Each word hit on her soul like a sharp sword and made deep cut wounds.Then she knew everything and realization burst upon her like a bombshell.It was all an adjustment between them.Her parents were two parallel lines living under the same roof with entirely different ideas and ideals,which she could never accept.Her mother never lost equilibrium and maintained the chord from breaking despite all the harsh realities just for the sake of her daughter.

She swithched on the light and took out the ring from the box.It was 12.30 at night.The ring which astrologer gave her mother whichn was ‘destined’ to diminish all the difficulties in her life.He also predicted that all her difficulties will come to a halt after the age of forty five. A mere stone influencing a person’s life was something indigestible for her.

Mazing motion of her stream of thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the harsh voice of her father followed by arguments which ended with her mother’s sobs.

She never dared to ask about the undercurrents in her mothre’s life which made her life a quagmire from where there was no escape unless and until all the ties were broken.

Few weeks later, one night she disclosed her first love affair[which she later told me was a mere infatuation] to her mother.A long silence ensued there after, which was broken by phone call.It brought the message of the death of her father in aroad accident and surprisingly it was a week after mother’s forty fifth birthday.

A cold hand brought me back to reality.It was she herself smilling with an umbrella in her hand.