Thursday, September 25, 2008

Taking a Bow

Me an honest Blogger? HHG has graciously awarded me with this title- An Honest Blogger. Dear HHG, receiving any award is always an honour- and when it comes from someone whom one respects and admires, it becomes even more special. Thank you so much HHG. But it has put me into an introspection mode.

HONEST- is one adjective that I’ve wondered about with regard to my posts. Not that I’ve been dishonest on my posts. I can confidently say that while I’ve never been dishonest here on my patch of cyberspace, I must add that I’ve had second thoughts at times, have pruned words before pressing the ‘post' button. On one occasion, I remember I went back and deleted an entire post. So whatever stays here, while is true, wholly true, I’ve never ventured to express anything that I’m uncomfortable sharing on a public forum.
Why do I do this? I’m not sure I’ve a clear answer, but even in my real life, except within my closest circle, I tend to be very careful about how I express myself. I’m extremely wary about ruffling feathers, rubbing people the wrong way. I’m mostly a fence sitter , a spectator simply because excited voices raised in dissent makes me extremely uncomfortable. I might express my difference of opinion politely once, and stop there without pursuing it. If the ambience is very vehement, I don’t take the effort even once. However I must add that I’m rarely convinced or converted away from my stance. I’ve been given to understand that I can be quite stubborn that way. I’ve wondered about the reasons I choose to keep my opinions to myself. Am I afraid of unpleasant, unfavourable reactions? Could be.

I’ve talked about my blog persona before here.

Getting back to the award tag, These are the rules:

1. The winner can put the logo on their blog
2. Link the person you received your award from
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Put links of those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message on the blogs you’ve nominated.

Most of the bloggers I might have described as honest have been honoured already, so I’ll just mention some of the bloggers whose posts I find endearingly honest .

Akeeyu, Biswanath Ghosh, Punds, Asuph, like a feather, Libranlover, The Box

Monday, September 22, 2008

Disconnected thoughts

I saw “Jaane tu jaane na” when we had gone to Bangalore in Aug. Overall cute movie, but I was not as enamoured as I was with “Dil chahta hai”. In fact another story on similar lines- ‘Niram” in Malayalam- (which incidentally has been remade in Tamil too- with vijay and shalini- I forget the name of the movie) I had liked better- However, the hero is cute and some of the dialogue was brilliant.

Saw “Memoirs of Geisha” the other day- had heard so much about the book and the movie and so when I saw in the papers that they were relaying it I resolved to see it. Besides, I was free with no NIE sessions because it’s the quarterly exam season. As I switched on the T.V. “Philadelphia” was coming to an end- that movie about an aids victim - It was Tom Hanks as the Aids victim and he has turned out a marvelous performance as usual- quite painful and depressing to watch him crumbling bit by bit.

Memoirs of Geisha began- and God Disposes- or rather the EB disposes- the power cut commences simultaneously – resumed after the mandatory 1 hour. Saw what was left of it. Neat movie. Browsed through the net to get an insight into the whole movie. Poignant and powerful performances.

Listening to Muhammad Rafi songs- Ehsaan tera hoga mujh par

Dil chahta hai wo kehne do…mujhe tumse muhobbat ho gayi hai

Mujhe palkon ke chhaaon mein rehne do …

The way Rafi twirls and enunciates the word ‘Mohabbat’ tugs at the soul…

I listen to Chhaayageet daily on Vividh Bhathi on my cell - followed by ‘Aap ki farmaayish’- 10.00 – 11 p.m-mostly old melodies rustling up sleeping memories.

Y’day, saw ‘Thanmaatra’ – a Malayalam film based on the progression (regression) of an Alzheimer’s victim. This role is played by Mohanlal- a government official- a caring husband and father- notices his failing memory with some alarm. Gradually he loses all his faculties, left with random snatches of incoherent memories- how his family struggles to cope- so painful to watch especially those scenes where he for fractions of moments realizes his predicament- the helplessness, the deep pain- is heart wrenching to watch. I was sobbing away – I had been wanting to see this movie because I had heard it was brilliantly made, Mohanlal has done a wonderful job, ( tho I don’t think mannerisms like slurring and putting one’s tongue out are symptoms of Alzheimers) and so has the others who have played the roles of his caring wife, son, father, and close friend. Though I relished the technical brilliance of the film, I was totally sunk in depression by the end.

Really scary- one is left wondering about the consequences of loss of memory- one is after all an amalgam of experiences, memories and conditioned thinking- if that is gone, is not one reduced to an empty shell? Reminds me of an earlier post of mine here.

Monday, September 01, 2008

Lullaby memories- A repost

( The following is a repost of an old blog- dated January 18 '05.I was reminded of it when I read a post on Mad Momma's page. Since I blog very sporadically these days, thought of simply doing a cut and paste).

Today I was reminded of the time when I used to sing lullabies to my kids when they were babies- I would sit on the floor, my back resting on the wall behind, my legs out stretched with a pillow, and my baby , I would lay on my extended legs- I would have decided it was time for him to go to sleep, because I had unfinished chores waiting- and thus having my baby gently tucked up on my out stretched legs, my hands clasping the little palms, I would set forth belting out all the songs I knew- not necessarily lullabies always- any melodys would serve the purpose as far as I was concerned-( I remember songs like chura liya tumne jo dil ko too featured in this lullaby repertoire- ) and all the while I’d be rocking the baby to and fro on my legs- the songs would be in Malayalam, Hindi and a few in broken Tamil too- when I was at a loss for the lyrics- la- la- la- la would be substituted- Needless to say I forgot the hapless neighbours, but got to say to their credit, never received a complaint or a notice to quit our flat- the lullaby concert would go on and on for more than an hour sometimes, simply because I was enjoying listening to my voice to the hilt, irrespective of whether my baby was asleep or awake. There would be little breaks in between because my baby would be gazing wide eyed at me- sleep farthest from his eyes- and I would have to molly coddle him, talk to him in gibberish to which he would gurgle back heartily- and sometimes even reply back in gibberish- and after our little conversation I would go back to my attempt to singing him to sleep.

And finally when my feet had gone to sleep too, and I was reminded of the piled up vessels in the sink, the half cooked sabji in the cooker, I would stealthily pick my sleeping baby, tuck him cosily in his bed, with pillows all around for added cosiness, kiss the chubby cheek, gaze fondly at my sleeping angel for some precious moments and finally tiptoe to my kitchen to finish my chores. Less than five minutes would have passed and my jigar ka tukda would be wide awake bawling his head off for all he was worth- all efforts of a good hour and more gone up in smoke- awww… and if the door bell buzzed when my baby was sleeping- I used to get soooo angry…

And then there were the times when I would have run out of my stock of songs and my baby would still be wide awake, and I would have been exhausted… he would have decided that he had enough of the drama/concert and he would give me a solid yelling and I had to resort to other means of placating him…

And today my elder “baby” is almost *15, he is sporting an incipient moustache- his voice cracks and squeaks, especially when he is angry, and we end up laughing together- and I think I’ve forgotten to sing…

( * My baby is now 18 years and far away in a hostel ).