Delhi 6

..watched Delhi6 recently...n found it utter nonsense...probably i had gone with very high expectations, the promos were strong enough to take me to the theatre...good cinematography, angles, frames...dats it....it had everything except a good story or something which could really show the culture...i cudnt relate much except at few points.....masakkali....i have seen a neighbour doing kabootarbaazi since the day i could understand the language and make sense of the things...his son do it today....the jalebiwala and the theatrics of telling an incident to the mohalla group.....the visiting of the whole khaandan and acquintances to some patient in a hospital, no matter how big or small the ailment....the gossiping of the females across the walls, through niches and courtyards..and most of the time spreading all wrong info....that is it....i wish there would have been more to the movie....it left so much, didnt do justice i feel.....so many people would have gone to watch it to catch a good glimpse of the labyrinthine city....

..traffic jams...

purani dilli n its traffic jams goes a long way together. the city which had only the pedestrian movement for its general public and beautiful paalkis for the rich delicate things, horses and such sawaris for the nobles during the time of its inception...today has all kinds of vehicles meandering through its narrow lanes...bumping into each other..hitting, honking...the situation has worsened with the large scale commercial establishments and shops....almost every important lane is laced with some kind of specialized market...harware, books, paper, cards, industrial machines, spices, grains..you think of it and its there....and with trade comes its paraphernaria....thelas, scooters, pullers, loaders, hawkers...everyone contributing to the madness...and the authorities only seem more confused and come out with equally funny proposals....
you sit in a rickshaw with your mom, trying to hold the shopping bags properly on one side, and the rickshaw on the other, lest you will roll down the rickshaw the moment the cycle rickshaw wala tries to stop his vehicle, coz the only way he knows how to stop it is hit the tricycle standing in the row in front of him...n suddenly someone goes bazooka jst next to you, as if driving on the national highway, honking with all the energy ( probably he himself has gone deaf with it)....and there he hits an old lady in burkha or may b a sari....n there goes the typical line.....kambakhat kahin ke, andhe ho gaye hain, allah bhala kare in namuraadon ka.....n you end up laughing only....thats the most beautiful aspect of all this chaos...theres a sense of life even in this meandering chaotic never ending line of rickshaws...

...another dream came to an end.....

one more dream..one more bright sunny hope..turned into a dark ashed reality....why it always end like this i wished to know from my Almighty....bt then realized that the Almighty is busy with the world's problems....n m such an insignificant thing that he doesnt probably see me.......all dat pain, anger, frustrations and the hatred of not doing enough for achieving my ambition...
all dat hopelessness which has unknowingly creeped in somewhere in this always positive person...n how i have gradually closed all doors on myself.....but this is not how i am....i have always risen from my own ashes, literally, so how can i end like this..
....picture abhi baaqi hai.....i ll not let my dreams die like this...it has to be a reality and very soon....n this Almighty knows that I am smart enough to handle my pains and anger and defeats....n i ll turn them into victories again smday with my people around me, giving me the hope and energy to fight it out...with my City's never say Die spirit and be INDOMITABLE......

dat first roza of friday...

ramazan began with all the gaeity n piousness from 2nd, n me the self proclaimed athiest kept d first fast...the pious and sacred friday fast...this whole practice of fasting has lots of meanings and attributes attached to itself..the feeling of pain of teh poors who go without food, the idea of charity and sharing of resources in different forms to the needy have social dimensions attached to it..apart from increasing ones will power...well the whole instituiton and Islam has such dimensions of the Way of Life.....ramazan bring with them lot of life into the city fabric, esp my city purani dilli comes to life(although its pretty vibrant already)...with all kind of shops n vendors coming to serve different functions of roza...fruitsellers...selling fruits for iftaar....halwai making pakodi n other delicasies for iftaar.....restaurants having a siesta in afternoon and a night long session of serving people till saheri happens....everything as if conveying something...that the religion and its practices are for people to practise and celebrate the happiness in teh small things of day to day life.....n it doubles up in ramazan...long live my city...and the sprit of fasting...

Train to Pakistan

...spent my whole weekend reading Train to Pakistan....Khushwant Singh has done an amzing job...and the fotos by Margaret have added to the whole feel of the book....what more one asks from the reader at the end of the story, the reader should be left with a thought...n the book has successfully left me lot of soul searching n introspection.....the heart rending scene one see in margaret's fotos....simply stays with you for days altogether....the pain, agony, anguish our people faced at that time cant be comprehended by todays generation but the book has certainly served its purpose....its depressing yet captivating, thought provoking....

Scorching Delhi...

uff....the summer is hot n not just hot..its very hot...the sunshines with all its might here on the whole city...as if penetrating in the body...buildings...burning all that has the courage to stand in its way...it has not been so...the summers had its own charm earlier, with a jhoola in our courtyard, a bhutta party on the terrace, when ammi n other ladies of the house have their afternoon siesta....abbaji sleeping on his cot...n we children enjoying the heat inspite of all this..not caring about tanning, sun burns, fever....it was a beautiful childhood, spent in the lanes of my Phatak, an inconspicuous street in the City of Shahjahanabad.....its only landmark...its Congress party office...the symbol of its importance, its identity....cycling in Phatak, throwing away some traders boxes lying in the Phatak...playing hide n seek on a traders staircase...having a ride in a thela of a fruitseller...oh those were the days....we only knew play in the afternoon...n the best part was, nobody objected to our bonhomie, our chaos, our shouts.....everything happened in its own decorum...and even Summers were enjoyable...it is still enjooyable today but teh decorum and respect is somewhere lost....profanity, fights and vulgar shouts have taken over these young ones delicate minds....i only feel thankful that i was blessed with a huge joint family...with all sisters and brothers around....which gave me my beautiful moments..which i cherish even today...long live Purani Dilli

Unaccustomed Earth

UNACCUSTOMED EARTH, is the third in the series of her collection of short stories and novel.A beautiful collection of tales about Bengali family life and one’s self-discovery. Although mostly Bengali characters and life style are there in the stories but still they have rich underlying elements of universality, allowing the characters to transcend the immigrant genre. The usage of language, words chosen craftily to paint the whole picture for the reader and the symbolism weaved through words is marvelous and depicts her story telling art nicely. UNACCUSTOMED EARTH is two sections with total eight stories.

The first section contains five distinct short stories, beginning with a story of a father visiting his daughter after a long time, since her mother expired. The story meanders around several issues of mingling of first and second generations of Indian immigrants to America. His visit turns out to be a real good experience for the young child in the family, who ultimately gets the affection of grandparents in the form of the visitor. The little details of gardening, making bed, taking care of the kitchen and daily chores, going out on weekends for simple visits are beautiful. Ruma the protagonist goes through turmoil due to various reasons. The story comes to a sudden poignant end with the finding of a misplaced postcard by her father.
Lahiri's has four more stories in this section with similar themes.

In "Hell-Heaven," a young woman recalls the coming of a Bengali uncle in the family as a family friend and how he finds a place in her childhood and her mother’s life.

In "Only Goodness," the portrayal of a sister who introduces alcohol to her brother and how he ends up as an addict is there. The sister, Sudha, tries to make a bond and care for the younger brother at various occasions but the situations worsen.
This brother, Rahul, turns up again after few years from the rehabilitation camp, at her door to meet her family and her little baby. Things go alright for some time, until one day the baby almost get drowned in the bathing tub, in the absence of parents and passing out of uncle Rahul in the intoxication of alcohol. This leads to an emotional upheaval in Sudha and her realization of her role in turning the life of his brother in this direction.
The second part of the book contains three stories intertwined in beautiful way having two parts from a male and female protagonist each, finally ending in their meeting and 20 years later.

The first story is told by Hema of her meeting Kaushik in childhood when his parents decide to return to Boston after a failed relocation to India. The various tribulations of giving her room to Kaushik, adjustments and expectations from the visitors are very real. But behind all this, there is a tragedy in Kaushik’s family life which nobody knows and the reader comes to know of it in second story by Kaushik.

The last final piece “ Going Ashore” happens twenty years later when the destiny had its way and both Hema and Kaushik meet in a third world, where in the Global world and different careers they meet in a beautiful setting of Rome. The portryal of Hema and Kaushik reflect the change of lifestyles – unrestricted travel, no personal attachments, no family roots, place, culture and non conventional career choices. Kaushik is a photographer of being alone genre, Hema is a researcher of ancient civilization.
The two people meet and suddenly strike a chord, once again destiny brings them together only be separated again after sharing beautiful moments.

In Lahiri’s stories, I have noticed few things starting from Interpretor of Maladies, Namesake and this Unaccustomed Earth, that characters are beside being Bengalis are high achievers, academically decorated with the degrees from MIT, Radcliffe, Harvard, Cornell, NYU, London School of Economics and sinfully rich. The characterization reveals the social practice of mixed marriages like Sudha and Roger Featherhose, Ruma and Adam. But then, if she aspires to write about NRIs, there are others, Gujratis, Kashmiris, Biharis, etc also residing there in large numbers. But if she has a special love for Bengali class, then there must be other Bengalis also, not that well off, highly educated, how about writing about them?

Jhumpa Lahiri is a brilliant writer, gifted with the art of weaving the scenes vividly for the readers, expressing emotions, etc. After I read the book, the general feeling was that of a terrible loss. I could somehow relate to the character of Hema of loving somebody with all her heart and one day the destiny separated the soulmates, leaving a longing desire of having him back, sadly filling the heart feeling what if, If i could, I wish....

The end feeling was of sadness, I literally felt depressed for few days on the loss of Kaushik in the end. That is what I feel the art of writing a story; one leaves the reader so much affected.