I miss...

• my innocence - my ability to laugh at the most stupidest thing on earth, my ability to blush on the silliest remarks made at me and my ability of understanding where everything and anything would simply surprise me.

• being just called by my name and not having the slightest knowledge about something called 'bitching.'

• having those times when the clock stroke 7 pm and with that ma would say 'porte bosho.'

• having home works and not assignments or meeting deadlines.

• those birthdays with simple chocolate 'Monginis' cake, yet to be replaced by 'Cookie Jar' or the so called French Bakery.

• going to the 'parar dokan' with my father and choosing chocolates. Mostly, it was always Milky Bar.

• holding my grandfathers hand at the 'maches bajar' and watch him delightfully bargain with the fish mongers just to get the best fish.

• how every Sunday morning my father would get 'bode,' the best I ever had, with luchi.

• my grandfather giving me 10 Rs. for having a chicken roll.

• going to the post office with him and getting a particular sweet for 50 p which made me the happiest little child.

• watching 'Raja and Rancho' with my grandmother in a small black and white television.

• getting jealous of my brother when my father brought him a cell phone - the first ever in our family.

• the radio being played every morning.

• my Cherry running behind my grandmother for a piece of cucumber, right after she came out  of the Puja room.

• having the best friendships in the world

• myself not being judgmental.

• not being figure conscious.

• those times, when friends would pat each others back and say, 'its ok to fail re...no big issue.'

• wearing my school uniform.

• my meaningless laughter.

• the thrill of having the first cell phone ever.

• the blush and smile while watching romantic films of Shrarukh Khan...candy floss romance were so real, sudden singing and dancing were so much fun.

• loving the pink color.

• the incessant puja hopping and gorging on the endless number of chicken rolls.

• bunking classes and watching the morning shows at the Inox, just because the price of the tickets were low.

• the undying value of 100 Rs on our lives.

• pen and paper.

• book stores and smell of books (now since everything is online).

• my Walkman and the innumerable audio cassettes.

•  the sleeper class in trains
• Growing up.                                                         ...................The List is endless                                                                                                                                                                 

Films that touch your Heart Part II, (Chitrangada, 2012)

I am a hardcore movie buff and not just one movie but of every movie. I watch for them fun to relax and also most definitely to get moved. In my life, it is my sheer luck that I have come across some of the spectacular movies from round the world and I think watching movies is a must for everyone if you want to enrich your taste. Most importantly, movies gets you to travel round the world without a visa and passport. In my opinion, you can also speculate a person's character by the choice of his movies - if you ask me, my all time favorite  is Revolutionary Road, and yes you got it right, I dislike romantic ones from the core of my heart, unless I am in a mood to waste my time and won't repent it for sure, then probably a rom - com chick flick starring mindless grits is just fine. What instigated me to write this blog is in absolute sheer necessity to let the world know about this movie that I chanced upon, which is in my mother tongue, and I believe most of my bengali friends have already witnessed it, and I being the unlucky one living outside my Kolkata for quite sometime, only got my hands on it through torrent. That is my dear friend, is Rituparno Ghosh's Chitrangada. I had an almost head pounding day and I decided to end it with a movie only hoping that like my supervisor, this also should not disappoint me and boy I was so relieved. People who have seen it and liked it a biiiig thumps up to you, people who have seen it and din't like it a biiiiiiig 'what d fuck' look and the people who have seen it and din't understand it a biiiiig 'urge to go and see it again' look. Whoever is reading this blog I might just add, that this is not a review of the film. It is just an endeavor from my side to share my feelings and views. Its in no way objective.
               I did not think I could seat with a bowl of popcorn and munch my way out. The film is hard hitting and am sooo proud that such an amazing and thought provoking film is made in bengali. It only proves how regional films are so so far ahead than our Bollywood. Chitrangada is my own personal favorite among Tagore's dance dramas, and I have myself portrayed the role of Kurupa and Arjun innumerable times (wonder why not Shurupa...hmmm) and I am glad, that Rituparna did justice with the subject. This is not a love story, neither it is about homosexuality or gays or sex. Chitrangada is a film about individuality, about ones own deepest choices about ones own desires. It is a film about how we make certain choices in our life and in which conditions it gets induced. Rudra is a choreographer who is controlled, strong, and powerful and Partho is his lover who is a lost percussionist  untamed, uncontrolled and unloved. Its like the meeting of the north and south pole...but it did meet. Rudra had the every quality of a star but he does not want to surrender whereas Partho is a tame less junkie who wants to surrender. The love that is shown , full of passion and emotions in every step about their lives. Ultimately, with the situation and Partho's happiness Rudra has to make a choice...a decision which altered everything that he had. You, know  I thought for a moment what could make a strong personality like Rudra to take a drastic decision of sex change and I realized its plain and simple love. You know, its one of those times, when many of us has taken certain decisions and has done adjustments not for ourselves but so enamored by love that it seemed the right thing to do... definitely for the other....after all love indeed is wild and blind...!! It is very similar to the real Chitrangada who too wanted to change herself...from the manly hunter to the epitome of beauty..only to be accepted by Arjun. We say times have changed but when in love time stands still. Its like Chitrangada is always the same; whether in 21st century or in the times of the Mahabharata.

                         The question however remains whether the decision is right or wrong? But who shall give that answer ? Who shall bear the responsibility of Chitrangada from a male to a female ? Or more importantly, how well will she be accepted ? I loved the way how the parents were shown. Their transition was bouncy, but not consists of screams and cries. Actually, to be frank, it is rightly understood that there is nothing as 'normal.' Normal can be anything. A beggar licking his food from his plate is normal and so  a man with womanly distinctiveness. A body does not personify a personality. A body is a simple entity which is given by the almighty to be visible in the world. A personality is what we build up. Me is not my body but my personality. But i believe we have to go a loooong way to judge a person only by his or her personality and not body. Rudra's decision of becoming a woman was only to have legal rights on adopting a child with Partho. Its not like Rudra was unhappy being a man nor was he unsatisfied...but Partho and his feelings towards him induced him to take the decision of transforming himself into a woman. But that still did not satisfy him as he went ahead and decided to be with a 'real woman'. Real why..? because she was born with a vagina and breasts...no synthetic...but  natural ones.
                           Rudra did not become a woman. Partho left for other option. But like Chitrangada, Rudra also decided to be the Kurupa, because thats what his mind decided to be. Movies like these, makes you realize that there are so many unattended issues in India that requires our attention. How do you decide to transform your body ? And what social norms one should follow ? Who decides these social norms ? I was bowled by the scene when his parents came down to see him at the hospital, and how lovingly his father hugged him and said, " come back home. Your mother has re decorated your room with new curtains." Acceptance is the biggest power that god has given us, but the most difficult one. Rudra did not care whether his parents accepts his new self or not but their acceptance indeed increased his confidence. I simply adored the scene. It has the deepness and an uncanny silence which so evidently reaches the audience. I hope such films are made more often and nurtures our mind. Its like we are continuously being conditioned to be someone and it becomes difficult for us to fathom as to decipher what we really want. This conditioning becomes permanent  and any alterations will be witnessed with raised eyebrows.
                     Watch the film, try it out at least once. Don't just discard it as obnoxious. It will make you think. But unless you are like my aunt whose reaction was ' ki jata...esober kono mane ache....uuufff...matha dhore gelo...' then its best to avoid. I love Rituparno...and am sure so will you...till then...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7prDTZhwA8U 

Its Different...

I did not have the intention to write this blog, especially at this moment, when I think I am sinking beneath all my pending works, and also when I see some more coming towards me. But somehow, something unseen instigated me and here I am collecting all my thoughts and penning down whatever that is possible. We all see dreams and out of those innumerable ones, there is always one very specific that remains with us which we aspire to achieve one day, and no matter what, we do not leave any stone unturn to nurture that. There are innumerable jokes concerning the full form of PhD...one popular being 'Permanent Head Damage or 'Passed High School with Difficulty.' (Yes it is funny...indeed). Pizza hut even came up with their own version; as Pizza Home Delivery. But for us, who have taken the oath of fulfilling the uncountable assignments and meeting deadlines, the term definitely does not hold the same. It is far more deeper than what normally is understood. It is a job for 24 X 7, where there are no scheduled breaks...no scheduled holidays...nor scheduled pay checks. So the question remains what then you have?? I am not the right one to give a constructive answer to this...but yes we have one thing which probably today a lot of people lacks...A LIFE..! Again, don't mistake me when I say this, as we all know no ones life is perfect. You gotta take everything with a pinch of salt. So basically what is PhD ?? You are given 4 to 5 years, with everything that you require and come up with something absolutely original. You think that is easy??? Try leaving your high collar job, living on something called 'stipend' and not salary and doing this.It indeed is a challenge. Everyone of us who are right now in their PhD years or the ones who already has the name tag, will agree with me that we are special. Please, that however does not mean that we are 'god's special child' or moreover 'god's favorite child.' No absolutely not. We are special because we all are idiot enough to leave something so lucrative that would have set your life forever. But no, we had to come here, be in the world of PhDs and get regular police interrogation from your parents. Yes, we are different ! We are probably the only adults in the world who can afford to get up in a Monday morning at 10 am and still not get penalized, we are also the only ones who does not have to see the boss's face everyday (but there shall always be an unseen string which will inevitably pull you around) and we are definitely the only ones who have the highest access to free food ! So you see, its not easy to have a Permanent Head Damage, however. One thing that god gives us with both hands is Patience. But however, if seen from the other side, I guess you have to have patience, because you don't have a choice. I mean even an impatient and psychotic person like me, is eventually filled up with too much of patience that you practically turned stoic. Yes, your nervous system will die slowly and the sense organs will scream and cry and say 'sorry but we can't react anymore....give us a break.' Probably you would start relating yourself with Camus's Outsider. But hey...! Do not worry, because in PhD, this is 'normal.' You are ultimately coming in the ZONE. Hmmmph...!
                       Our laptops and computers are our lives. All the Lenovos and Compaqs and Hps even Microsoft should honor us, as we take them in living forms.We believe they too have emotions, sentiments, and whom do you punch, when that right sentence does not come correctly ??? Of course your beloved laptop, because you know it will never retort you back. So, its a request...take care of your beloved by regular servicing..!! The most exciting part in a PhD life, is that it differs from person to person. There is no objective view, or any theoretical framework (oopss) that can sufficiently suffice or explain why it is so. We are always taught to answer this basic question...SO WHAT, but the funny part remains that the answer to this question if concerning your own life, does not necessary be sublime. Its HELL in one word. The  interesting element is your supervisor, or guide, or mentor, or boss...or your Biggest enemy..!! Now thats what you call is 'irony.' He or she will most definitely have the most inquisitive look, you will ever come across and shall retain that even when you are done speaking, wondering whether to proceed or not, when you shall have an abrupt end to your valuable thought process with the most significant question ever, coming from the other side...'SO??' And you shall be like...'wooooww the last 10 mins were sooo meaningless.' Being dumb is also not a choice, because if you are quite you shall be bombarded with so many words, half of which shall be Hebrew to you, and without much understanding your head will simply nod. And if you have happened to cross that stage, then welcome to the next one...i.e. choosing your externals. Now, for sure that creature from any distinct planet will always disagree with your boss, and you shall be at the loggers head...Who said its always MBA who teaches you to be diplomatic...??? So by 4 yrs your Yess and Nos shall comprise of May be or I shall keep it in mind. Thats the best way to deal with the questions or comments coming back to you. I liked the PhD movie quite a bit. I won't say it entirely depicts the reality of our lives but that has something close to it. I wonder why isn't Madhur Bhandarkar listening ? If he thinks that academics does not have gossip, he is in for a shock. Academics is much more murkier. The one who lives it will know the best...but I guess its true for every profession. But ours is indeed different.
               Be that as it may, but there is something really unique that PhD offers you which probably any CEO of a company will not achieve. Friendships, Motives, Power and most importantly 'Dr.' No matter where  you are or what you are doing nothing can take away this two lettered word, which would remain till your end...in the truest sense of the term 'death do us part.' It shall build your identity. You will made some amazing friends who will see you rise up and catch you when you will fall....who shall really pat your back and say that things will be all right, of course there shall be occasional black sheeps, but you obviously know how to handle them. There is salt but there is sugar too. So to all my PhD friends....we are truly GREAT..!! So may all the Doctors come through..!!!
                      

Are you kidding me!

I am 27. I live my life on my own terms. I have a career to look forward to. I have caring friends and family. I like what I am doing and, most importantly, I am very comfortable with where I am standing, which refers to the rock solid steady hands beneath me that I have nurtured through my lived experience. In other words, my age. I think I am not the only one - people around me, my friends, cousins, family members, everyone of us is absolutely comfortable and more than happy to accept the realities of life, and elated to announce that they are living life with full 'masti'. So at this juncture, when Priyam suddenly one morning introduced me to an advertisement of something called '18 again,' honest to god, I just could not believe what I was seeing or hearing. As if the women's movement never happened, as if people like Simon de Beauvoir or Kamini Roy were never born and the whole idea of feminism or women's rights was just another myth. Let me give you a more detailed picture of what I am saying. So, '18 Again' makes female rejuvenation and tightening gel, so that women can get back their spicy life - again! No, I am not kidding, yes you heard me right, that is exactly what I said. The website is obnoxiously illogical and the kind of punch lines that they have used are so overrated that I wonder whether such women exist at all. If you don't believe me, check out this link: http://www.18again.com/web/ And if you can't believe your eyes or your other sense organs, then please call yourself normal. Try reading the punch lines accompanied by beautiful faces, representing Indian women. I hope your blood boils. I hope the blood pressure starts to rise, at least. One of the products that caught my eyes was called a vagina tightening gel and the advertisement for it left me awestruck and horrified. If this is what we are waiting for and if this what feminists are fighting for, the so-called women's rights, then I have nothing to say. There is this woman who is singing her lungs out saying that she wants to be a virgin - again - and how wonderful it would be! Hello? Just when I thought I should let it go, I saw this line, "After all these years in love, we have fallen in love again!" Really? I mean your relationship is so fucking lame that you need a fucking tightening gel to fall in love with your beau. Forget about being a feminist or anything, but from a man's perspective, isn't it an insult for them too? I mean, aren't we just saying that men can only measure their love by is by analyzing the way they are participating in sex? I mean, isn't it too terrestrial after all? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgqiO4sd848 Try tolerating this ad for 3 minutes, and if you think you can, I think you have more willpower than Bhagat Singh. Ouch! My day got more amusing as I found out that this shit is endorsed by another shit in the form of Celina Jaitley. The reason why she is endorsing it because she is a mother and she understands the importance of such products for women. See, I do not want to elaborate more, as I believe that would lead me only to use profanity in one single sentence, but I have just one thing to say. So, motherhood is a hindrance for everything you want to aspire, at an age and time when you think you can't! Wow! I am sorry, but this simply is not acceptable. If marriage or giving birth to your child takes away your happiness in bed and your partner thinks that you are a bore, then madam, the problem lies much deeper, and a fucking tightening gel will not give you the satisfaction you are looking for.

          I have no problem with anyone's personal decisions in these cases. Everyone has the right to do whatever they want, after all, it is their life. My problem lies in the fact that these and other products like s whitening creams or even clothes are marketed in such a way as if life without them is useless. And that you, as a woman, do not have the same existence as you would by just being yourself. Then, our mothers or grandmothers probably do not have right to live. Is this what we call a revolution? Celina Jaitley is someone whom, if you avoid, you won't be taken to jail for sure, and she understanding the pain of women's passion right after marriage, is probably something which she herself is facing. I personally feel that it is derogatory to women and men. If such things could untangle the complexities of life, then probably suicides won't happen, girls won't be thrown out by their husbands, physical abuse of women would become a myth. I am sure all of you have seen the ads for Fair & Lovely or even Vaseline body lotions, the promotion of which happens along the lines of  'confidence.' Honestly, do they really think that all a woman cares about is to look fair and that her confidence would be back if a notorious passerby gave her a second look? Fair skin, glowy cheeks, luscious lips, killer figure, and now a tightened vagina - that's what Indian woman are or for that matter, any woman. Every woman standing at their age, I am sure, are confident in their own way and accept the natural process of aging. For god's sake, no one would like to go back 10 years in their life just to feel how they did the first time  and buy something which would let them have that when they have passed that stage long back. Probably, they would, but the reasons, I am sure, will be far different. If this is feminism, if this is women's liberation, then we are going in a very wrong direction. I am sure half the population is unaware of Irom Sharmila's work. Because she doesn't come in T.V. often, does not use a skin lightning cream or a vagina tightening gel, and is not seen in Page 3 parties. Can't we make people like her our heroine? There are so many things that we can worry about, but definitely not this. A few months back, a company even came out with a lightening toner to make your private parts fair (I am not kidding, seriously). Do you have anything to say for that, I urge you, please say!

           That stupid 'dabba of cream' costs more than what a man probably earns in a month. So,  for a wife to get back her long lost love, would have to spend her husband's hard-earned money and then, expect miracle to happen in bed. Wow! I mean that would definitely boost up a relationship, or maybe, this is exclusively an elite product, which is out of reach for most of the middle class. So, all you middle class house wives, sorry, we do not have anything to offer you, you simply have to go on mopping and watching your t.v. serials! Uurrrrgggh, please rise up! This is not what hundreds of people fight about when they talk about women's empowerment. Don't let our ancestors commit suicide in their graves. I am not asking anyone to be a radical revolutionary, but at least, question things that happen around you. If you want to be young, and be in love, there are other ways. Be happy, be caring, laugh, see the beauty around you, live for yourself, eat healthy and you would beat any Aishwariya Rai hands down. Simply, be yourself. Let 'natural' things happen to you naturally. That's what life is. I am no great soul to lecture anyone on life, but these are some little steps towards a much greater goal. We have to live, but we can do it in our personal ways. Cheers!

                     

45 hrs of introspection.

After attending the most wonderful, colorful, and bustling wedding of my favorite friend in Delhi, I encountered the chance of spending the next nearly 50 hrs all by myself - thanks to my dear Dad, for letting me have the ultimate experience of the Indian Railways. I think our British forefathers were smiling at me, for so graciously loving the cheap leather seat / bed for two whole days and hungrily pouring down whatever food that was available through my food pipe. I was soooo drowsy while seating at the Nizamuddin station as if Rip Van Winkle's spirit has taken over my body forever. I could barely open my eyes and experience the first chilly wind of Delhi. Given a chance, I would have taken out my blanket and had gone off to sleep, may be the deepest sleep of my life, only to be woken up after sometime by the continuous and agonizing whistles of the train and making me realize that my dear bed is still 2000 kms away. With all those pending sleep and realizing that my dear flipflops have been left back at my friend's place, I decided to kill time by all the trashy magazines that were available. Luckily, there was no dearth of it. I got hold of all the juicy gossip that I could, right from the films to the hi - fi page 3 parties...who slept with whom, who switched gfs...eveeeerrrryyything. All my sleep was vanished, and my eyes were firmly glued to the pages, god how desperate I can be...;) Trust me, trashy magazines can be one of the best companions when you are traveling alone...it gives you the necessary anecdotes of amusement that you will be needing it.

            So after waiting at the station for nearly 3 hrs and heart and mind flipped with the so called 'dehlites' I boarded my train, which was my destination for the coming 45 hrs, I realized, that I want to sleep. Taking the side - lower seat, I was waiting for the train to start, so that I can immediately plunge into the dream world. As, my luck was, I was surrounded by family and of course KIDS..! The capital letter is only to show the propensity of kids, especially a crying one, on anyone, who simply wants to be at peace ! No that won't be possible...just impossible in another word ! Still I managed, pulled the curtains, arranged the pillow....and broom I was out. I surrendered myself to all those impending sleep and said..'take me..take me as far as possible,' and boy! I slept like dog..! I din't care, what was happening, who all were there...I just faintly remember the Okhla station and that's all, only to be woken up by a hoarse voice after 5 hrs, which happens to be the caretaker asking for lunch orders. I felt like shouting at him in my bengali style, but then food was also needed. After, the nose burning spicy chicken and rice with age old salad I again surrendered myself for another 5 hrs. I could feel all the possible gazes on me, people thinking me of some kind of junkie whose in drugs or marijuana for sure. There was one family just in front of me kept talking among each other in their mother tongue, directly pointing at me. I was amused to see those reactions, but then who cares when sleep or nature calls you..!! It is so interesting to see how easily we judge people, by very simple actions, which probably does not mean anything. Just coz I was traveling alone, sleeping a lot, did not eat much, not at all social, not friendly towards kids and most importantly frequently vising the loo - has to be a fishy character..!! wooow...that's the rule of the world. I just managed my sleep beautifully.
                     Ok. So now it is 6:30 pm. I am wide awake. All the kids around me are screaming at the top of their voice. All the possible laptops in that compartment are switched on in the highest volume and a mixture of all the sounds have created something, which can't be called musical neither trashy. My i pod was giving it's death knell, and I dare not touch it. I am done with the cheap magazines, done with the newspaper and still can't think of anything that I can do. I managed to seat up and pulled up my curtains just to let some electricity in. I started doing my favorite thing - watching people. There were two kids of age around 8 to 10, who were surprisingly not notorious started humming some songs. They were good, really good and to my surprise one of the songs that they sang, comes from a very old movie, vinod khanna and dharmendra starring The Burning train. It did struck me as hardly anyone would even remember that song...see me, right now, even I don't. The singing sessions continued for more than half an hour and in some point even the dancing too. I started looking outside the window. Nor that could help me much as it was 3 tier A.C and the glazy glasses could only give me a faint glimpse of the innumerable stations that the train was zooming through. I had a passing thought...what if all these stations and trains could speak ? What would have they said to each other? The train as the wild Casanova and the stations as the sexy lasses.....and he is rushing through all the good looking chicks ultimately reaching to his girl...hehehehe...see this is what happens when you have absolutely nothing to do, but has tons of time to kill. I started calling as many people as I could, but due to the 'developed technology,' in the half way of every conversation the network was playing hide and seek. Finally, I decided just to be with myself. I remember one of my friends saying that traveling alone gives you a lot of time to think about yourself, which normally you wouldn't. I listened to this wonderful song called Praan, which is basically a Rabindrasangeet but done quite interestingly by Gary Schyman. That song always takes me to some other land, especially the piano part in the beginning. Just when I was settling down, that peculiar hoarse voice made its reappearance again..'Madam, dinner.' I put a hold to my thinking hat, gulped down the chicken and rice and found my eyelids coming down again. It was 9 pm. Yes, I know I have this amazing ability of sleeping in any journey. I am definitely quite an expert. The scene in the train was different. Movies were running, and for heavens sake, the single compartment had more laptops than probably an entire mall and the incessant singing and dancing was going on by the two girls. Two very fashionable girls looked at me and whispered among themselves....I was like woow ! Within 12 hrs, I am already a subject of gossip among strangers. Quite an achievement, I must say. I simply yawned tucked my curtains and went off to sleep. Yes AGAIN.
                 I was up at 7 am. Yes, its right. 7 am sharp. When the whole train is still snoring, I was up. Common, I mean my body must be screaming,'please, please, no more sleep..anything but not sleep.' I looked outside. The train was passing through green meadows, and at one time it stopped at a small station. I kept on looking outside. I would not lie and say that there was any beauty to get struck, but something outside just was so serene. There was a little girl who especially caught my attention. She was wearing this beautiful pink ghagra and running up and down through out the platform. Something about that child made me so happy from inside and I kept on staring at her until the train was again on wheels. That morning was wet and misty and I kept on listning to Shomlata...dunno bt it felt just perfect. Slowly the compartment was coming into life. The que at the toilet reminded me of my good old days in HCU, where we used to impatiently stand with our buckets and tooth brushes..!! The songs keep on changing...with Enya followed by Katy Perry, Floyd then 3 doors down and of course the good old masala hindi ones. My introspection continued in its own space, where I analysed on some of the decisions that I have taken in my life, on the people that I have met and most importantly on myself. Good bad or ugly, it is after all my life and I should matter the most. I realised the wrong moves that I made, but somehow I do not repent. I think because they were wrong, and the results were so awfully upside down, I undererstood what is right. I do not agree that for everything maturity is must. Firstly, I am highly unclear as to what is maturity? How do you understand if he or she is mature or not ? For me maturity is highly overrated, and problems in life are like bread with butter. 'You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape.' Wei red but, actually so many things were jostling in my mind. Train journeys alone can teach you so many things. It gave me time to miss my dear grandfather. How much I miss his presence in my life. No decisions are wrong....they just have another side to it. While tackling all these ideas, I jotted down few points in a paper and made sure that these are done. One of them is to simply feel happy about who I am.
                        Right now, where I am standing, probably the little girl whom I saw at the station will kill to be there. The boy who is brooming the floor will do everything just to owe my latest i - pod. And thats the truth. I did not realise that time went so fast and it was already lunch. The rest of the journey included me reading a journal on which I have to write an assignment and of course answering calls from my parents and assuring them that I am fine. I realised I was not complaining. That was new. Night swept in and people got down and got in. But I stayed where I was. Finally I reached my destination in the next day early morning. I got down, took my bag, stroll through the Yeshwantpur station, bargained with the autowala and reached my dear bed. But surprisingly I was not tired. I started my unfinished work...again..!!

Reality...is it?

          I somehow feel that Hindi films are going to the dogs day by day, if not all of them, but definitely a few of them. My recent endeavour was to spend nearly 1000 bucks and tolerate Kareena Kapoor's 'Heroine', not that I was forced to, but just for sheer entertainment so that I can let myself go lo and pause my thinking machine. When I say this, I mean, that I left my entire brain back home, but still, you do end up carrying it, even if you think you won't be needing it at all. And that's where I went wrong. Whatever Madhur Bhandarkare has shown is his business and whether it is reality or not, I am no one to judge, but my point lies in the fact that in most of his films why the fuck does a woman have to smoke and drink when she is either falling down or climbing up the ladder ? Why does a woman's vulnerability - every single time - have to be shown by way of addiction, where she is going haywire drinking, smoking or doping? Why is her high profile, big shot, savvy personality always projected through the white stick that she puts between her lips to blow out smoke? Why does a women have to show her frustration only by smoking or drinking, whereas with guys, it's not the same? Today, it would be extremely judgmental of us to judge a personality on the basis of whether he or she has inculcated any bad habit or not. And let my judgement not be taken as support or as a green signal to such habits, but it is just a thought that why do most Indian film directors show the vulnerability of a woman by showing these? It is said that Mr. Bhandarkar does extensive research before he makes a movie, and I most definitely give him credit for that. I feel Chandni Bar, Page 3 and to some extent, Traffic Signal were films to be looked out for. I can't comment much on Corporate as, frankly speaking, I do not remember that film (at all), only that there was a smoking scene with a woman dressed in formal, signifying some stupid corporate culture or her power and Satta, where Raveena Tandon needed to learn dialogue delivery. She gave some 200 pauses in every sentence, unnecessary and uneventful. It's like the way the mighty Bigg Boss speaks...'Bigg Boss chahte hai (pause...pause...pause...) ki sab log (pause...pause...pause) kitchen mein (pause...pause..pause..) a jaaye (you are relief that finally the sentence ended).'

          Be that as it may, I am not a film critic, but a Hindi film enthusiast. I love munching my popcorn while watching a masala movie or crying my lungs out when Shah Rukh Khan is sad or feeling ecstatic when the good, however minuscule it might be, wins over the bad. But Madhu Bhandarkar is disappointing me with every passing day. I somehow do not agree with his projection of women, of them not being able to handle power. It's not my feminism that is speaking, but is it too wrong from my side to expect that every time there is a story of a woman, she need not go up the ladder, sustain it for few days, get herself hooked to booze and fag, and then suddenly plunge down and finally, realise her principles and then again, return to the top seat, at which point the booze and fag are inexplicably absent. I mean why can't it be a simple yet a bad habit, which is the way it is shown in the case of men? Cigarettes and liquor, in today's age, can be taken just a part of life as much for women as for men. I remember this particular scene from The Namesake where the girl who gets married to Gogol was first shown wearing a seductive dress and, of course, smoking. I dunno what exactly was the point that was being conveyed in that particular scene, but I felt it was unnecessary. Today, a woman, if she is extremely seductive, will smoke; if she has a super cool job, that will make her smoke; someone who is a wild child will most definitely smoke, if not dope. To prove herself an intellectual of the world, she will smoke or to show off her pain and agony will probably just live her life in smoke and in some cases, she will just smoke to prove that she is different. Why can't it be like that she just casually lights a cigarette when she is having fun or working or may be casually catching up with her friends or may be when she is just relaxing? Why does there have to be a certain kind of image that is always associated with women smoking in Hindi cinema? Remember Helen. She too many a times was given that sort of an image with the cigarette stick between her fingers and that typical vampish look. I mean, is it really necessary?
          Coming back to Madhur Bhandarkar. Do you remember Priyanka Chopra or Kangna Ranauat in Fashion? It's quite a stress for me as a viewer to see all of them, being super models, continuously smoking, as if that's all you do when you are a part of the fashion world. So there was this particular scene in the toilet where Priyanka meets Kangna, after the former of course has conquered her dreams (oops! She was not smoking or drinking yet...which she later inculcates however), Kangna gave her a whole speech, while smoking, that how she soon shall be on the same pedestal as she, which obviously Priyanka does, by creating a lot of hue and cry as well as acquiring a taste for cigarettes. And then the 'gatha' continues, where she is seen losing herself to drinks, living in smoke...but bang! She comes back with her all high and mighty principles and this time with a clean image, clean lungs and clean persona. No cigarettes this time. What is with these principles that people project with smoking and drinking? I mean, why is it that a woman smoker is devoid of 'principles in her life', and that she can be taken for granted? I think the only other film that I watched recently was No One Killed Jessica, where there was this particular scene of Rani Mukherjee, in which she was coolly standing in the balcony and living in smoke. But as the film progressed, it was just one of the million projections to show that she was 'different.' Another point, a woman who smokes is different and is always the 'mufat' one. Yes sure...! If that were the case, India wouldn't have all the evil mothers-in-law of the world. But somehow that scene sort of makes up the way for showing a woman enjoying a puff.

          I think if I have to recall any other movie in this context, it would be Memories in March, Raima Sen's character, Kittu Gidwani in Fashion, and Anne Hathway in Rachel Getting Married. Somehow the percentage of women smoking onscreen is more in Bengali films, compared to any other regional ones. Recently, while randomly searching in YouTube, I came across this particular video of Rekha and Honey Irani, where the latter was casually puffing a cigarette, and it says, 'Indian Women smoking', which eventually has like 28,000 viewers. Great going! If anyone has seen Paroma, the 1984 Bengali movie directed by Aparna Sen, then if you somehow surpass Rakhee's character and very carefully observe Aparna Sen in there, you would just fall in love with her. She played the role of a divorcee, working for spastic children, wears authentic Bengali saree with the much essential jhola, and smokes on every occasion. I simply loved it. She was so simple, so uncomplicated but the little dialogues and the attitude that she portrayed was so amazing.
          I am not issuing any judgement nor am I supporting any thing. I simply have issues in the way people use certain elements as projection of ones inner self. If a woman smokes, it does not always mean that she is in pain or a loser, even not for the sake of calling herself cool. I understand that there are certain people in the world who do so, but then let's not judge the world by only looking at the other side of the coin. One's insecurities do not always come out in this way. Yes, it is true that you do feel relaxed in some way and sometimes your agitations are controlled, but may be that's all that it does. May be, we should look deeper into it when we portray urban women in movies. Coz what you show, gets enacted!

Flying high...or low ??

You smile, you glow you are fastidious about every single detail, you wear a comfortable yet stylish outfit, make sure that everything is in order, reach the airport early while your entire family comes down to see you off and your mom repeating 1000th time to call her - Yes..! that's how it is pretty much if you are flying abroad for the first time all by yourself, and I was no exception to this. My mom's instructions have taken in the forms of telephone messages, e mails, through Dad, brother, friends etc etc etc. My dad was glued to the internet through out the week checking every detail in London and instructing me on everything, especially the weight issue for  my baggage. I was super excited as it was my first journey abroad accompanied by a friend (Geetanjali), where we were going for a 3 week summer school at the University of Exeter, fully funded by our institute in India. How better it can be! From London I was to travel to Stockholm for a week to see my cousin, and finally to return after a month. Nervousness coupled with anxiety, we both reached Bangalore International Airport at the crack of dawn, giggling and bustling with energy. Yes, it was happening. Facebook was there through out (common, it's a must). Everything was going pretty well until I was about to board my Air India AI 111 from Delhi to London. Nothing can't go perfectly right, after all. We were quite enthralled by the look of the Delhi International Airport and all those duty free shops. Even the immigration officers were so cute, to wish us happy journey, and was done super quickly. Our flight was at 2:30 pm and around 2 pm we were called to get ready. We called up our friends, parents and told them that we were boarding. My mother again or the 2000th times told me what to do and what not to, but I realized that even that was not irritating anymore. Common, I am off to London, all by myself and all those off shoulder and mini dresses will surely see the days sunlight. I was loving it. But then I saw him...yes! The devil in the paradise. The person I am talking about was an air stewart in the flight and he was standing right in front of my seat. They are suppose to smile, always. That's what they are paid for. No matter what happens, their Colgate brushed teeth should always be out. But god has some other wishes, and I was not to experience his gallant smile - reason known to him only. After taking my seat I asked him for a glass of water, but the look that he gave me as if I asked for a glass of Ganga jal, and I shall be hanged till death. By the way, I received that water after some one hour in the flight. My irritation was already boiling. But however my co - passenger who happens to be a blonde babe, did not have the privileged to receive the same kind of treatment at all. People, I am not passing any judgement yet...but just saying! She was graciously welcomed with a big grin and was escorted to her seat. Oh ! All these drama was happening in the economic section (honestly, business class??...in my dreams).
                God, I hate this guy soooo much, I shall probably punch him if I see him any day. I remember his face, like I would remember Sharukh Khan. Since I obviously don't remember his name, lets just call him 'DEEP SHIT.' Anyways, there is more to go. So, the flight took off, and I was super happy and excited. Like a kid, I kept on looking through the windows, hoping to enjoy my coming 7 hrs more. The main problem started when after quite sometime, Mr. Deep shit and his friends came to serve us drinks. I, with a sweet smile, asked him for vodka, in which again he reacted as if, I asked him to climb up the Everest in just one go. I clearly told him...one vodka with orange juice and a glass of water. And given that I am blessed with quite a loud voice, I do not think there was any chance of mistake. He gave me a blank stare, behaved as if he din't hear the vodka part and just gave me a glass of ice chilled water. I waited for a 2 secs and asked for my drink. He again gave me a deaf ear, in which case I had to tug his shirt and ask him again, after which my majesty graced me with a small bottle of Finlandia. I was relieved for sometime at least, but irritated to the brim. I started to enjoy my drink with The Dirty Picture in front of me, only to realize that the orange juice that he gave wasn't enough. I pinged, and as my luck would say, he arrived, with a boring look, and I dare ask him for my juice and the answer he gave me was quite interesting. He said, "but the cart at the end of the plane.." I was dumbstruck. You know, sometimes in life you come to those situations, where you don't know whether to be angry or just amused. It was one of them. I simply din't know what to say. Should I just say, oopss I am so so sorry, that I asked for a glass of orange juice or oh my majesty, I apologize for my behavior, or should I just say, just get me my fucking orange juice. I chose none of the above, and i guessed that was my mistake. I just said, I would appreciate if you could just get me that. He did not. Actually he chose not to. Aren't they given job to serve the passenger no matter what? Am I asking for something which is like a huge deal or was the plane too long enough for him to walk? Mind it, I am still not judgmental.
                     My patience lost in the last minute. Out of the thousand instructions that my father has given me, one of them being that if I am hungry in the plane, if I ask for an extra platter they generally serve you, in most cases. My father has wide experiences in traveling abroad, so this piece of instruction was obviously genuine. The lunch or whatever that was given was so small, that it would not have served a child also, and I was super hungry, in which case I dared again to ask for another platter. For that I had to call him 6 times, which was unanswered and then I had to seek my friend's help. She called the guy for another 3 times, looked at us and as rude as possible. Probably he wanted to say, "you hungry Indians, there are no food to feed," but obviously he omitted the former and simply said, in the rudest way possible that we won't be getting any more food whatsoever. But how surprisingly, his smile came back when an Indian British asked for some fruits, in which case his smile came back, and with all the manners she was given a platter of fruits. As if this wasn't enough, my screen was not working properly, I asked one of the 'pammi ki mummy,' I mean the air hostesses (you understand that if you have traveled in Air India), to help me, where she was as irritated as possible, only to tell me to fix it by myself. I was scared even to ask for a tissue paper and the rest o the journey I chose to sleep only.
                       I don't know whether all of you who have traveled in Air India, will agree with me but this what I went through. There was just this one punjabi fellow, who was mild and welcoming, but otherwise each of the flight attendants behaved as if it was our fault that we chose to fly with them. Even now I do not want to pass on any judgement or say that Air India is bad, but this was something which was not expected. My fault was that I kept mum. I should have said, but I just did not want to spoil my journey as there were far more better things waiting for me. I do not remember this guy's name neither the aunty's, but I surely remember their faces. The problem is that we talk about discrimination from the outsiders, but in my case it was the very Indians who were discriminating the Indian passengers from the rest. May be the others who were traveling in that flight, had a wonderful time, but I did not. Being so hot headed, I simply mumbled some galis, but as my father later said, I should have spoken up. May be each of them had different stories and each had different tensions, but this was their job, and they were not being asked to do something different. Government jobs twists  everybody's mind. They think them to be from some different world. Be that as it may. My request is not to encourage these types of behavior at any cost. They are not the worth. I would still say Air India was magnificent to travel. Their seats and movie selections are the best.While coming back I had a wonderful time, both in terms of services and timings. Do travel through Air India, but don't let yourself to be humiliated.        

Films that touch your Heart, Part I....(BARAKA, 1992)

So what do you expect when you go to a theater to watch a film? Do you expect to laugh or get enamored, get stupefied or just simply to see your favorite star right in front of you and wished if you could take him home? Or may be it is just for relaxing - relaxing at the cost of 1500 Rs (at least), and gladly most of us can afford it. In the multiplexes different show timings allow you to witness different types of people - the night show generally is patronized by people with expensive cars and cell phones with 'cheap - looking' ( but they are anything but cheap) clothes, and trying to project the idea of how difficult it is for them to relax, but to come to a movie theater, spend some money, look cool, allowing the entire audience know that they have a mobile phone (it will evidently ring during the movie) and showing off the world their act of 'cleanliness', by feeding even the floor their popcorn and paper napkins. The scene sort of changes in the evening and the afternoon shows (sorry you can't use the term matinee show anymore, thats so psss !!), you get to see a mixture of younger and elderly crowds - the former coming into just to enjoy some quite moment with their loved ones, as in India we lack the concept of lovers point, and probably also because the RSS people will commit suicide by sheer depression, and we definitely can't risk that or may be just to hangout (films are not the priority), while the latter simply to enjoy an afternoon, see how much the world has changed since their times, and purges their lips, when they see a couple holding hands. I have seen this increasingly in Kolkata, where this specific lot comes only to watch an Aparna Sen or Rituparno Ghosh film, and shall be the connoisseur of Bengali culture. How would you identify them? Well, they shall mostly have short feather-cut white hair or long hair neatly tied up in a bun, very classy glasses, junk jewelry, clad in fabulous Fab India sarees or kurta pyjama, and very efficiently surfing their latest kind of mobile phones. They will hate if you even whisper during the movie, as if, if one word is missed they won't get the 250 Rs worth of experience.

           And finally after so much drama happening outside, you enter the auditorium only to wish that the coming 3 hrs would be as nice for you as you would have felt gulping down Swensen's chocolate ice cream on Belgian waffles, but then it turns out to be just Karela fry, especially if you land up in a movie like Kya Super Cool Hai Hum ( I wonder to whom the title refers to). I was aghast to see Tusshar Kapoor. I mean how ugly, incompetent a person can be, is simply alarming. I mean he seriously needs to work really hard in order to be so pathetic. I am not even attempting to describe the rest of the cast, I shall die of constipation for sure. So its better to leave the subject as soon as possible and lets talk about a movie which very graciously has touched my heart, and I did not even have to spend a single penny. All thanks to film piracy in the form of 'Torrent.' That wonderful film is 1992 released BARAKA (96 mins), directed by Ron Fricke. If I have to describe the film in one sentence, then the film does not have any storyline, no plot, no dialogues, or actors, except for the fact that it is kaleidoscopic - a global compilation of both natural events and by fate, life and activities of humanity on earth. If you have never been speechless after watching a film, then Baraka is the one for you. And if that does not happen to you, then you are the perfect audience for all the obnoxious Salman Khan movies (not that I have against anything him). The only other movie I could think off which blew me in recent past was 2010 released bengali film 'Arekti Premer Golpo,' starring Rituparno Ghosh and Indraneil Sengupta, which I can talk about it later. You know Baraka is one of those films which starts very gently and silently with no such dramatic effects, but leaves an impression in your mind forever. The film came to me by accident, and how beautiful this accident has been and a biiiiiiiiiiiiig bear hug to torrent, as such films never get to see the sunlight in this country but because of torrent, we get the privilege of such films in our drawing room.  The music is scored by Michael Steams starring Dead can Dance, L. Subramanium, Ciro Hurtado etc, and the tunes simply pierces through your heart and takes you to some other world. The movie starts with a misty early morning scene at the Durbar square in Kathmandu, then the Pasupati temple, Bhaktapur Hanuman Ghat and then to the Wailing Wall of Jerusalem. The scenes one by one just sweeps you and you simply stare at the screen, because you don't know what to feel. Every scene has a different story to tell, and that gets conveyed to you without any dialogue, but only through beautiful pictures and music. How very easily and explicitly various cultures and traditions comes out in every scene - they are intermingles but so yet distinct. The film has number of tracking shots through various settings and has a sort of a universal cultural perspective. There are few shots of Gunung Kawi, Tampak Siring temple in Bali and the tribals worshiping and then directly moves to Mount Bromo in Java. The shift is crisp and sudden and so breathtaking. The camera moves right from above the mouth of the volcano and you can see the hot molten materials inside the volcano. And you are just speechless.
                      India is of course present, but not the Taj Mahal or the scenic beauties of Ladakh. They chose to show the mighty Varanasi Ghat and the people in there. After capturing the Ganga and her beauty, I was stupefied to see the director unfolding the burning rituals of dead bodies on the banks of this old city. Believe me, but there are numerous scenes including one close shot up of a dead body in the funeral pyre, that is the part of this 96 mins journey. However, here, I would ask you not to seat up and splurge out with nationalistic feeling and arguing about the depiction of the east by the west has always been like that, i.e. deadly diseases, poverty, illiteracy etc, but to understand, that with Taj Mahal and Qutub Minar, these rituals are also very much a part of this country and that by capturing these, is in no way the celebration of Indian poverty. I have always believed that Varanasi has a separate identity of her own, and so much is going on simultaneously. Each has a different side, and it is crucial for us to acknowledge those sides also. These are very much a part of the Indian heritage. So don't get all upset...feel it, enjoy it and then analyse it.
           I won't say more, then probably you won't find the interest to watch it. A sequel of this film called Samsara has been released internationally in August 2012. We only hope that India too get to see such wonderful films, but if not, use torrent, or watch it online. I assure that you won't regret. Till the time here is the link for the trailer of Baraka... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO1nSVy8q8I.....watch the film with an open mind, understand the scenes and you shall get so many flavors. Its a journey of a lifetime.

Reminiscing...

I have never been a hardcore traveler and for me traveling has always been something as a stress buster, not that right now I am into something which takes away 100% of my energy (yet you always want to feel that you need rest), and thus when I travel, I want to do it like a queen and never for once try not to experience the real essence of traveling i.e. the adventurous kind. But given the kind of money that I am being paid, not always it is possible to have the ultimate 'queen like and grand' way of living, and my endeavor has often taken me to the opposite side to my chosen one.

          Allowing myself to go for my first field work (but mainly just to see a new place), I chose Masulipatnam or Machalipatnam, at the Andhra coast and also because I was accompanying one of my good friend for the trip, who was accidentally going for much serious reasons, I just couldn't help myself. Living in South India for the last 5 yrs (4yrs in Hyderabad and now in Bengaluru), more than the IRCTC, the bus services enamored me more. Believe me, you can practically go anywhere through the buses, and these buses run in formidable speed, that you can't imagine. The seats of course won't recline and you have to push like an elephant and finally would just shift an inch - and most definitely the A.C. will stop working in the middle of the night. Most importantly, you have to enjoy South Indian films. That is compulsory. You will get to see the most extraordinary and colorful south Indian films that is possible. I remember my own experience of watching 'Dogaru,' (Sorry if I am getting the spelling wrong), and how wonderful it had been. The mere sight of Mahesh Babu, just set my heart pumping fast and how enthusiastically most of the passengers in that bus, had their eyes wide open and gulping down every move of Mr. Babu. I was also one of them (smirked). But most definitely an i-pod is a must. Make sure you have all the catchiest and the funkiest numbers, which you in any normal situation won't even give it a single try. Mine had the worst of the Hindi songs, some finely tuned Bengali numbers and Enrique Iglesias (don't know exactly which adjective to use). So I remember this situation once when I was traveling to Chennai, in one of these chariots, I met this absolutely weird soul, who did not have an wandering eye, but nonetheless chose to have a blank stare at me, through out his journey. And when I say this, I literally mean the whole 8 hours journey in the night. Whenever I woke up I found this man and his fixed glance on me. He would have been perfect to guard Rabindranth Tagore's noble prize, which has very grandly left the building. I was hesitant to even move my leg. I wondered what he was thinking, and somehow he never seemed to me one of those maniacs. After much struggle, I could gather that may be...may be..he sleeps with his eyes open. I mean, after spending 3 yrs in research, I totally can't refute the idea as we are taught in every step that 'impossible' means i-m-possible. Big problem for his wife! I won't say I get absolutely disturbed and feel utter insecure as a woman traveling alone. Such characters intrigue me and I like to remember them with curiosity and wonder how their lives might be. After all, who am I to judge.

         So Masulipatnam journey did not give me any such honors. Luckily, SRS travels was good enough to reach Vijaywada right at the crack of dawn, from which our second phase of journey was about to begin to our final destination. So feeling as drop dead adventurous, we boarded a local bus, squeezed myself in through the small entrance and managed a seat - probably best to say just the corner of the seat. I smiled looking around me. What I saw was this whole crowd of people, with so many different expressions in their face. Everyone had some kind of expectations some kind of hope, and that was so evident from their faces. I saw this particular child, who was counting coins with concentration. There was one woman who was adorned in every kind of jewelry and the most garish colored  saree that i have ever seen. There was satisfaction in her face, where she most definitely thinks herself to be Aishwariya Rai in her own eyes. I simply loved her confidence. I can  say that, that one bus might just be called an agglomeration of all the emotions of the world. There, I looked as the outsider, with my urban attitude and body language. I felt as if entering in a whole new hemisphere, which was so far away from me, yet so near. It is always advisable not to experiment with clothes when you are in a trip like this. Keep it simple and comfortable, and please do not try to be a style icon, as no one really cares. I think a pair of jeans, t- shirts, kurta and pyjama and most importantly sunscreen lotion - and off you go !!

             Masulipatnam is not Goa. Its not like every city on the Indian coast, needs to be so. There are no shopping malls, no dirty foreigners with 24/7 smoke around them or any pan Indian feeling. The place has its own heart, a very beautiful one, with people who gives it a different essence. I have never been to any small town in South India and Masulipatnam was my first attempt, and I can say it was worth. It does not have any scenic beauty of Switzerland, but you can feel the warmth that the city depicts. If I have to give proper factual data about this place then it is a city and District Head Quarters of the Krishna District, AP and is around 347 Kms from Hyderabad. We landed up in a small but comforting place, and was looking forward for the coming 3 days and 2 nights over there. For one thing that this place will remain in my heart forever is because of its abundance in variety of fishes. If anyone, like me is a fish addict, Masulipatnam is the place for whole new surprises. I still lick my fingers when I recall those delicious fish curries that I plunge into. Simply Wooooow ! So guys, forget about food poisoning, forget about cleanliness, pour your heart out and just eat. There are no specific restaurants to name, each and every place, big or small, has its own life.

       I was awe struck when I came to know from the locals, that Masulipatnam had one of India's first cinema halls (Minerva Talkies), police station and apparently Vijaya Bank has its very first branches over there. I did not have the privilege to see the latter two, but I did see Minerva Talkies, but unfortunately at that very moment my camera left me for some other world. What caught my attention was the name of the roads as the 'Fort Road' and 'French Peta,' the explanation to which was not available, only the word of mouths, saying the proliferation of the colonial powers in those areas. Another significant feature were the number of houses in North Indian style, not to mention one mansion also, with glazed tiles, colorful glasses in the windows and frequent presence of pillars, being quite uncommon from what is generally seen in there. I had the chance of walking through the streets and enjoying every scene in right momentum. Masulipatnam was important for the colonial Britishers as one of the principle ports, where trading activities were quite ramp anent. There is nothing extra ordinary in this small city, but it will be you responsibility to find out that one single moment which you shall treasure through out. India has so much to offer us, not in terms of its metro culture or rapid up-gradation of cities to compete with the world scenario, but through these small cities, which are, even today thriving with their own beauty. My work led me to the scenic beaches of the place, and it was so so clean. Probably it will take another 50 yrs to become another Goa, but the beaches were so pristine, untouched by the human presence.  The main sea beach is approximately 15kms away from the main city of Machilipatnam, much nearer to small village called Chilkalapudi. The beach is long, broad, and pristine, with pale blonde sands. It has a natural bay with shallow waters. There is an old light house, which is still standing. You can travel to these beaches in autos and buses, and of course the main time to visit is early morning. I shall not ask you to seat there and write poetry, but it is my heartiest request to forget the useless intricacies of life at least for 5 mins, and to enjoy what the mother nature has to offer. Standing on that beach my imagination took me some 150 yrs back, where I could see hundreds of colossal colonial ships sailing through the Indian Ocean and reaching the Masulipatnam port. How grand it would have looked, with people working and mingling. Wish I was born at that time.

                      If you are fashion conscious, and even if you are not, one place you should never miss are the places for Block Printing on fabrics. It was simply amazing and astonishing to see how these beautiful clothes which we supposedly buy from places like Fab India and Prapti, get produced by so much hardship. There were men and women, elderly ones who working for like 7 to 8 hrs per day, with these beautiful blocks and fabulous colors and giving it a perfect shape. It was whole new world all together. Each have this elaborate place and very specific method of doing, and this block printing is apparently an age old practice which even today is very much a part of the fashion world. Each and every person out there had a different story to say. Each had different expectations from life. Almost in every household, the block printing factory can be found. How beautiful the colors were and the striking factor, the owners are the supposed designers for these fabrics, who happened to not to have any kind fashion degrees from any NIFTs, or NYFIs, but the results have been so far quite satisfactory.
                  My prerogative to write this blog, is not to give you a detailed account as to what I saw and what not in that place but give you a fair idea as to how much life surprises you, and how in small packages this surprises arrives. I want to entice you with the kind of experiences that I had in a small place like this, which probably I won't have in any bigger part of the world. Some of the things that I have seen can't be expressed in words but are treasured in my heart. I met some beautiful people, who are not the so -called educated, or cultured, or smart but how wonderful they live, is the thing that I loved. The fishermen I met earn probably the lowest of the wages - they have complains, but not against God for making them like that, but against 'a specific system,'  who do not allow them to enjoy the different fruits of life. I still remember this one lady I met and had asked her about her husband (her husband was present), she said in telegu, later translated to me, which says 'kya bole memsahab, hamesha daru peeke para rahta hai,' and right after that both she and her husband laughed. They are happy, in their own way, and we are no one to put forward any opinion about right and wrong. So, people, pack your bags, go to these obscure places. You may never know what awaits you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRFBkXBzEIE&feature=youtu.be.....A quick look through my lenses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BfbnWTE6SeQ&feature=youtu.be...Masulipatnam Temple