The Faces that you Meet

There is this moment, around 15 minutes into the movie Closer.  Natalie Portman has just realized her boyfriend is pretty much besotted with a photographer he only just met. At that moment, in the photographer's house, she turns towards the window. When she turns back to look at us, the audience, we see a face glazed with tears, and also, that hint of innocence lost, a person who's had one round with the world and lost. And yet, firm resolution, a hint that this one's not going to take things lying down. That same firm resolution comes full circle right towards the end, as she breaks an unexpected heart. 

As wonderful as her performance in the movie is, it is this moment that I think about most often. I think about how easy it would be if we could only let go as easily as that. Detachment. Its something I often long for. And here's the thing. You think you've let go, you think you don't care, it doesn't matter, you're standing firmly on solid ground, but suddenly, its back to square one, the ground shifts from under your feet. Emotional attachment, says wise girl, is painfuller (sic.) than love. As technically and logically incorrect this line may be ( sorry, wise girl ), I get that thing she says. Or is trying to, at least. :)   

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

But, I think, sometimes, the unreliable anchors that people often turn out to be are often worth the risk. Don't ask me why. I couldn't tell you the exact moment when you realize its all okay, and that one particular  high rush makes up for the ocean trench lows. Its not about cancelling off the good times and the bad with each other to see which one wins out. And it shouldn't be, not really. 

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet

Indeed.

* Apologies for the rambling. This is as accurate a reflection of the blogger's state of mind as is possible. 

But I love you, you stupid fucking whore !

Joey Comeau says this, and i really have to agree, even more emphatically than i generally agree with him. Joey talks about romantics and how they treat the person about them as an object, more than a person. You know,  the subject of their flossed, grand romantic fantasies, those sun-dappled, hazy lined afternoon reveries, and moon-kissed, shiny cobbled street walking, bitter mist fighting,  flights of longing. That. That's how you see them.  Then the reverie breaks and its all bitter disappointment and annoyance and anger, even. 

Then there are unrequited romantics. These are worse off. Its a unilateral wave of pain and dissapointment. None of the perks, even. Sad, really. 

But i love you, you stupid fucking whore ! (says Joey)

Angsty, bitter sigh ! (says i)

The games people play

We have been on lock and key playing spree.
This is significant. And not just to the poor people sitting in the library forced to hear our screams of terror as yet another unfortunate soul falls prey to the hands of the den. No, it is significant because it is childish and fun and such a pleasant antidote to conlaw and adlaw and juris and cpc
Now, here, please to clarify. Conlaw and adlaw and juris and cpc be v. interesting and it is all supercool to be learning learning but the oddly physical drain of paying sustained attention needs a rejuevenating elixir. Today, we found that in running around making people freeze. There was chain cut and that crossing the river with the crocodile game too. While the proceedings got a tad bit more somber temporarily when i thought i'd accidentally murdered T. or atleast ruptured her left cornea , it was all quite fun on the whole really. She made a full recovery, too.

We' re back !

and people are largely unhappy. This is a common affliction at the start of semester. I have however taken the path of dignified happiness. I will be strong and shall not break. But then again, I have been helped by a superpleasant weekend. If anyone tells you that vodka and rooftops don't go perfectly together, they're probably that unfortunate kid who falls to his near-death in 5 Point Someone. Oh yeah, spoiler alert. blerg. 

Anyway, superpleasant weekend.  And not superpleasant first day, but as has been roundly observed, 2/5ths of the general campus population is away, so that's part of it. And, you know, its THAT year. The one they keep scaring you about, the one where they look back at the years before and complain about how easy they had it then. That one. We've reached nearabout the halfway point, and we're too far away from the beginning point and we can't see the way back. And the end remains as foggy as ever, of course. 

However, I am being cool, and strong, and not complaining. No sir, no wail will you hear from me. Soon, one shall stop hovering aimlessly and hit the ground running.

This will also be good exercise. 

Mumbye

A nice-ish week, come to think of it.

The family has decided. A relocation to Delhi is in the pipeline. Even as I leave for college on the 21st of June, my parents and sister will be Delhi-bound. When the shift was concretized and news relayed to me, I did the logical thing and complained. Then I did the sensible thing and went about bidding goodbye to this grand, creaking, groaning, rain lashed, metropolis. That was fun. Summoning up final reserves of memory on which to be nostalgic till the next visit to the city, of which there does not seem to be one in the nearfuture.

And then, and then, movies ! Lots of those. In the cinema, back to back; at home , back to back to back. Mostly good movies, too. Once or twice, the toe curlingly stupid types. But then, if you have too much chocolate, you forget how average anything non-chocolatey can be. (This was me being metaphorical. Watch out for more gems in the future)

And, and ipod walks down to haiko for those brownies. and near-drunkenness at the beachside. and recieving smile - inducing, heart warming drunk call. and meeting friends, old and new.

A nice week, yes ? And bye, Mumbai, and I would grieve more but for the fact that I see now, more than ever before, how these winds of change have become a permanent proposition. I haven't seen the last of you yet.

Vacation Highs

I am on vacation in Udaipur.

This is fun in its way. It also carries the additional baggage of being my hometown. This is not always fun, for its own reasons. Each passing year when I come to visit only heightens my sense of nostalgia for the place. Way back, so many years back, to the time when the entire family lived in that one giant mansion with its vast array of hide-and-seek gold spots; its neverending terrace, with folds upon folds of staircases, some leading to no place in particular, abandoned, without purpose; the basement store rooms where there were always new treasures to be found; and the little basket swing hooked to the uppermost ceiling, always in demand during the vacations, always creaking to full capacity with 3-4 of us cliging on to it at any given time. The vacations would stretch before us endlessly, the end date never quite worrying us, always basking in the warm reassurance of another year, another summer of fun.

But as things must go, as the years passed, as we grew, our fathers and mothers and uncles and aunts moved into different corners of the city, the country, the world. Each arriving summer would bring with it the absence of one gale of laughter, one bustle of activity. Soon came the time when I stopped looking forward to Udaipur. It was just another family obligation, a visit to the hometown, rather than the fun summer vacation that i used to take it for.

I came to Udaipur this summer, just finished with my internship. As always, when we drove down those familiar streets, that feeling again - the roads were smaller, the sky was lower. And once again, that old grand mansion was emptier now, so very quiet compared to the din that used to emanate from it. And now, we’d left it too, with my parents having moved into another house in the city. And I began to steel myself for the obligatory visits to relatives and the awkward gaps in conversation and the occasional “Oh ! you do remember me don’t you ?!”. And with all of us children now grown up to become angsty teenagers and busy adults.

But something happened the next day. My sister, cousin, and I were left in the new house, when the power went, accompanied by a storm. I don't know who took the first plunge, but in 2 minutes we were all out there on the lawn, laughing wildly, revelling in the rain. Then for a drive on the rusty kinetic scooter, around the area, wind whipping away at our rain stained faces. Soaking wet , we got back home to bone-dry mode, and spent the afternoon making a chocolate brownie-chocolate icecream- chocolate cookie god-knows-what-but-it-tastes-like-heaven mixture, accompanied with finally getting down to the Haunted Castle jigsaw puzzle that had been lying forlorn in the trunk. A good book and hot chocolate and we tucked into bed, even as the rain outside quietened down to a mere patter.

And I forgot to be nostalgic as I realized I was in the middle of a day that i would later look on with nostalgia. And that made me happy and let me hold on to the moment, even as the other realization dawned on me …

The days of the summer vacation were back.

Cinema Hall Paradiso

I love going to the movies. The smell of popcorn, the glitzy sheen, the posters, even the trailers preceding ( especially the trailers preceding), its all sort of brilliant. The thrill of anticipation. The moment where you see an excellent scene that's enthralling or moving or both, and you realize the people behind this movie knew what they were doing. Being part of an audience ( when you dont want to tear at their throats for mobile phone counselling sessions and pointed scene to scene analysis). This is expecially fun when going to watch horror movies. Like the time 3 of us friends went for the midnight screening of The Omen remake on opening night [ 06-06-06 :) ]. I still remember the audience collectively holding their breaths, then shrieking, then giggling nervously. This odd sense of fellowship.

I can trace my love for the cinema very directly to my parents. As far back as i can remember (and for that matter, as far back as they can too) , the weekend trip to the movie hall was a done deal, come hell or high water. Every Saturday evening or Sunday afternoon, we'd be off for that drive down to the cinema hall. Ticket availability was never a problem, since we were firm believers in the advance booking system. I'd be given the exact change i required for the concession stand, since of course we all knew exactly what we wanted, and it'd be off to the big darkened auditorium where our eyes would glaze over for the next 2-3 hours. The intermission, and a quick dash back to the concession stand for refuelling. "The End" and the somewhat reluctant walk back to the car, smiling at hearing other people gushing or trashing or debating about the movie. Gushing or trashing or debating about the movie over the drive back.

Through all the changes in the family dynamics, what with my sister entering our lives when I was 10, and me going off to boarding school and then college, this weekend ritual remains thankfully, unshakeably, unchanged. In the winter vacations last year, I happened to catch a saturday afternoon flight back home. A slew of winter releases were newly out. As my dad swerved the car away from the road leading home, and the familiar one leading to the nearest ADLABS, we all smiled together.

We were off to the Cinema.