A lazy Sunday well spent

She knew as soon as she crossed over that she had stepped into some new territory. It wasn’t the way it smelled, the way it looked, the people in it or any of the myriad senses humans posses. It was the way it made her feel. Her feet felt the forgotten emotion of treading on soft earth. Her eyes understood the explosion of colors around her. Her soul sensed the beauty that was so many trees swaying in the cool breeze, the melody in the hundreds of voices around her, the happiness in the children that were running around her. A combined assault on the senses of seeing, hearing, smelling, touching and feeling- is this how it feels she wondered.

And the beauty of all that was it happened when she crossed over that imaginary line that was called a gate.

Jewellery in various shades, shapes and styles. Ceramic was that was colored with Maati. Absolutely beautiful handiworks of craftsmen from all the country. Each as varied as the language, the location or the peoples in themselves. Toys, jewellery, paintings, vases, flowers, metal art, clothes, pottery, cutlery, tribal art, bamboo work, leather puppets and food :)

She was at a Handicrafts Exhibition in Chitra Kala Parishath. Boy, was it funnnnnnn.

P.S. it is so worth it, my house will be filled with knick-knacks from all over the country soon … tra la lalalaaa

Hero

I saw one of the weirdest movies yesterday, weirdest EVER. The plot is about a supposed-psycho who does some really whacko things all through but in the end - he's the hero, he's the scarily-selfless sacrificer and that makes it a happy ending.
His idea of making friends is - ask a guy if he knows how to swim and on learning that he can't swim, push him into the water, wait for him to struggle and call for help, save him - then say 'I helped you, we are friends now'. That people, is the opening scene.
He acts like he's a PERFECT guy in office and has everyone literally bowled over, in walks the heroine, and he kisses her as soon as they are alone in a lift - their first conversation. And there were people laughing in the theatre at this.Imagine, in real life, a guy kissed a total-stranger-newcomer in a lift. I am sure there will be a dozen committees waiting to take that guy down. The heroine complains to the HR and the HR tells her she is hallucinating, because the hero is PERFECT and wont do that. And there people guffawing uncontrollably at that scene.
Sigh, I was really worried what I had dragged myself into.
While, as an actor, the hero really made me believe he was off the hinge, he did an amazing job at dancing, really outstanding. The script writing was probably different/unique while I am not a fan of the story, I can acknowledge the script writer and the art director for putting out something sort of intelligent on screen.

Oh - the movie is Arya-2.

It sort of got me to think, why I was uncomfortable with a weirdo for a hero. Why I was uncomfortable that he was uncouth with the heroine is definitely not being questioned ;)
We are used to a hero being, well, a hero. Extremely well cultured, well mannered, perfect (really perfect, not fake perfect), can fight 2 dozen men gun-toting men single-handedly with bare hands, who absolutely adores the heroine,always does the right thing.
Now, I think, we idolize heroes and expect them to be like that, because that is what sets them apart from being ordinary- that is why he is THE hero, duh!! If he breaks/doesn't conform to any of the above aspects of his definition, he is like us, so how can he be the hero.
It doesn't matter if he doesn't get the girl, he sacrifices her for her happiness/for traditions/some other unwritten law that binds him and makes us realise his greatness in doing it.A hero has to be great, has to do what no one else can do, has to be amazingly God-like, otherwise, it'll be an ART FILM!!!
he he he
Well, I did adore the hero in Magadheera - he could kill 100 men and still stand, he is reborn again to claim the woman he couldn't get in the past birth where he sacrifices his love for her since the king demands it against his honour.
That's my hero - honour, valour, belief in the power of his word.

And the weird part is, by the time Arya-2 was ending, I sort of pitied the hero who was giving up the girl he loved because he loved his friend more (even if the friend hated him). I realised that since we can't get all the qualities of a legendary hero, we make do for a few and overlook all the scary-psycho-weird-freaking parts.
Just like we accept other people in our life - s/he is like this and that, but s/he has these great qualities, so , I like him/her. No back and white anymore, we live with the greys, eh?

Would I recommend Magadheera, without even thinking once , forget thinking twice. But would I recommend Arya-2 .- hmmm, ummm , uhhhh , maybe you should check it out for yourself. Maybe you will have fun seeing a 'different' movie.

The art of story telling

When was the last time you heard someone transport you to another place with mere words, I am not talking of a visual like a movie where a character says something, nor am I talking of a book which has similar powers, I am talking of listening to a person standing in front of you narrating to you a story. We listen to anecdotes from friends all the time, "You know what happened today, I was at this place where. .... " and you can imagine the expression on your friends face or imagine the place he is talking about. But what of a story that is just that , a story, like the one your grandma used to tell you when putting you to sleep on her lap way back when you were still in pigtails. I remember my mom and grandmom do that, cousins all around them, on the terrace on summer nights listening with rapt attention to some sort of a Jataka tale or occasionally a true story with a dash of humour added or even some made up tale of fruits and vegetables(don't ask)
The words help you conjure up images in your head driving your imagination crazy. My aunt could put images into my head of a "Potlakai antha Police Officer in a Jampandu antha Jail" - which roughly translated would mean a "Gourd sized Police Officer in a Guava sized jail" (don't ask again). It's an art, modulating your voice to make a ghost-sound or a high-pitched scream, knowing when to put in that knowing smile or wink, the body language that showed you how a brave prince jumped in front of a sword to defend the princess, and most importantly, letting the narration be controlled by the audience's response.
Those were the days, those were the times, I wonder if story telling is a dying art. It is probably alive still somewhere, maybe everywhere, almost every mother shows her children the moon and tells them tall (but believable) tales about it just to get them to eat dinner.I hope it never goes out of style. I know there is more power in it than I could imagine.

We went to an IFA associated-Motley Production of "Ismat Aapa Ke Naam" yesterday at the Chowdiah Memorial Hall. Three short stories written by Ismat Chugtai were narrated by Naseeruddin Shah, Rathna Pathak-Shah and Heeba Shah. The stories that were chosen were almost tragic, they made us cringe in places, smile in some, wonder in amazement about how the human mind works, worry about ourselves as a society that reacts stupidly(for want of a better word) for some scenarios, how hard we try to fit into a place and then try harder to convince ourselves that we are better than the rest.
Heeba's narration was nice especially her rendering of a 'curse-mouthing' begum, but it didn't have something that I was looking for.
RPS's narration was a treat to watch, I could literally see Kale Miyan saying "Ghungat uthao" And I must confess, I half hoped she would find a way to put in "That's soo middle class" somewhere ;) (for the uninitiated, that's something she keeps saying in Sarabhai vs Sarabhai) . She did get some of the biggest laughs.
The performance of NS took the cake, his voice, the energy, the expressions, the pauses at the right places, transforming himself by means of body language to a man, a woman, an old man with a paan filled mouth, a village busybody. He had a presence on stage, it seemed more interactive.
As much as I rack my brain(and I am half ashamed to say this) I can't think of any of his onscreen performances other than Wednesday and Masoom.
As I saw the progression of the stories and the different people rendering it alive, I realised, a story teller needs to be an actor too, he needs to make you feel it.
And I must mention, the simple props made a huge difference with each setting, the music score in the background and the lights were amazing, they added a lot to the whole thing.
The show got a standing ovation.
I would recommend it for a dekko, but I wasn't completely satisfied. It was a different experience, an appreciable one, but maybe I have been exposed to movies for too long to give this a 10 on 10.
At least, this is my first step backwards to when I was in my pigtails, anyone going to tell me a story, I am all ears :)