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February 27, 2017

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Illusion

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Not jut a passing

Sports have been the first and most beloved drug I have come across. Its saved me from the brink of many an abyss. I've had the privilige of meeting many personalities at the courts and grounds. Vivek (uncle) is one of them. Uncle in (brackets) because on the court, we were all just players and there was the score that kept us on level. Vivek was in his mid 40s i think when we first started playing together. Great player, impeccable footwork and a backhand slice shot that would just die in the dreaded corner and kill any dreams of recovering that shot and your dignity, if any. Around this time, which was maybe 15 years back, Vivek's father one day walked onto the court. Maybe in his early 80's. Army officer. He steps onto the court and hits a few balls, has a rally with his son. I see the father-son mirroring, the gait, the swoop. I felt awe and tinge of jealousy. Last couple of years, Sood Uncle (Vivek's father) would be wheeling around the complex, waving back or no...

Minari

Minari, the movie was seen. It impressed, impacted and lingers till yet. Its growing up, captured and presented in a way that invokes a longing. We've been there, our own versions of it. For me, family, particularly my father, my journey with him begins with a sound. A scrunch that sounds like SCRUNCH. The first time I remember my father's footsteps was in the gravel at Goregaon. We had just moved from our hometown Lucknow. Bombay was alien. The people, the sounds, the scale, the buildings, the neighbours, the flats. My father was sailing before the scrunch. I remember sitting on his bags, knowing it would be about 6-9 months before we saw him again. This bag sitting might have made quite an impact on him because I was pretty much home (ship) schooled till they deemed a class room necessary to my life. When we used to take walks as a family after dinner, dad would be walking, with that unmistakable scrunch. And i really had to plant my foot, twist it to ext...

A quiet waste

I regret the title of this post. Leaves me not much to say. But since you read on, i type on. This is a review of A Quiet Place 3 or A Quiet Place Day 1. Let me re-start. It's quite a waste, of time and space. The last time a movie left me this distraught was the UDAY CHOPRA and TANISHTA C starring in a NEAL N NIKKI. The "and" between N &N was turned to N to appeal to the younger gen. They could have called it NEVER n NOT but I was the younger gen, back then. I got swooped up in the mob mentality of my first year engineering classmates that had a few weekends back made me sit and watch No Entry. Post watching NAUSEA n NEUROSIS in '05 i think, I had to furiously scribble my feelings on a piece of paper like a bulemic shoves a digit down their esophagus having consumed something which on the surface looked perfectly benign, but now it starts to horrifyingly metamorphos-ize into nutrition. Back to AQP3. A possibly terminal cancer patient with a cat wants a slice o...

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