30 October, 2021

Of chores, arguments, and a deep connection

Another birthday went by. Just like every year, I received phone calls from well-meaning associates. They repeated their wish of wanting to see me married and I again brushed it off saying that there is still some more time. Some went ahead to certify that my biological clock isn’t ticking anymore, and it might have stopped. I told them that it doesn’t mean anything to me.

Deep in my heart, I know it means quite a bit at this stage. No, not the biological clock but a solid companionship. A companionship that would provide me with comfort, peace and freedom. 

All my life I have lived with my parents and a younger sibling. We love each other to the core but argue at every possible instance. We have different world views, but the same values bind the four of us together. Some days, when I don’t win the major arguments – I tell them that I will pack my bags and leave the house. I have come so close to doing so, but I just can’t seem to take down the heavy suitcases from the attic and fill them with my favourite things. Because all my favourite things can't be packed in the good old sturdy luggage bags or even the mauve one that I bought some time ago.

The list of my favourite things is endless. They may be some material as old as the many audio cassettes of my recitation recordings or the customary studio visits for a picture dedicated to every occasion. They may also be a variety of emotions – undefined emotions that can only be felt in presence of one’s parents. Then there are also the things that I dislike. For instance - I don’t want to live up to the moral science textbooks all the time. 

But I have realised that my likes are quite solid in nature and often dwarf my dislikes. Now, when I travel out for shoots to another city for 2-3 days – I should be mentally kicked about it as I always was, but the fact is - I am not. It has nothing to do with work/shoots, which I am still quite passionate about. It has to do with not being able to see my parents on the days I am out. I may be in touch with them all the time over the phone, but I feel a strange sense of comfort when they are within my gaze.

This behaviour change has happened over time. With age, I have grown fonder of them – as my parents and as a couple. As a couple, they do most things together. Both have retired from their beloved services and now have each other’s company all the time. They cook and do other household chores together. They also have arguments. They stop speaking with each other and also don’t watch their scheduled shows together. But this sight doesn’t last for long. They make it up to each other very soon. I find it absolutely adorable how each time they let go of things easily without holding anything against each other.

And, here I am – fretting over my relationship because I had some sort of a sane expectation, but things did not work out my way. I pause for a moment and think why is ‘my way’ always more important than the other person’s opinion or way. I never get a satisfactory answer to that.

Maybe someday, I will.

That day, we will live together as one big family – his favourite humans, my favourite humans, his favourite things, my favourite things and the many intricate emotions of real existence.

That day, my way and his way won’t collide. And, even if they do, we will still stick together and find a middle ground where I will savour Old Monk and he will make do with a Lemonade breezer.

Until that happens, I am happily ageing up in the company of this endearing couple that still believes in old-fashioned love - where love conquers everything even the silliest of all arguments.

My mother proclaims – “Love is silent. It is important to understand its beauty amid everyday chaos”. My father nods in agreement.

They keep my hopes alive. 

Year after year.

17 May, 2020

Goodbye, Irrfan sir

Eight years ago when Rajesh Khanna passed away, my maternal aunt cried a lot. It was a known fact in the family that she did not take her meals that day. I did not understand all that fancied association she had for the actor. It was kind of unusual for me. But nowhere was I insensitive towards her feelings.
I think I understand my aunt better now. With the passing away of Irrfan, I guess I understood what it means to feel the ache in your heart and whimper - without having met the person even once. It is strangely personal, even though there is no literal relationship that exists. It is all make-believe that we see on the screens, but sometimes we fall for them in the real world too. The lines get blurred and somewhere, we choose to get drifted. We start loving it that way.
It has been a few days since the news, yet it is difficult to accept that this magnificent actor is no more with us. And that we won’t ever see him play another real-life character with many nuances, conviction, and excellence.
Irrfan Khan had this remarkable ability to make the average films bearable to the audiences, especially films, like - Karwaan and Qarib Qarib Single. His character in every film stood out - irrespective of the film’s commercial and critical acclaim. One wonders if any other actor with the same script, dialogue, and Director, would have exhibited the same brilliance as Irrfan did in all his films. He immortalised several significant characters on the screens. And that can’t be said for most actors.   
I have watched a lot of his films, but the ones that truly stayed with me over the years, are – The Namesake, The Lunchbox, and Piku. Several scenes from these films have remained etched in my memory. Moreover, every character that Irrfan portrayed, felt like that of someone close I know. It is kind of magical.
* In ‘The Namesake’ – Ashoke Ganguli is like my Kaku. You know the quintessential Bengali kaku, who is forever the overprotective type. He understands the need of the hour, but still wants his child to remain rooted in his story – the origin of his name! He is also the one who understands his wife’s unspoken wishes - who leaves everyone behind to start a new life with her husband. The whole film is a package of emotions on a continuum. However, these are some of the scenes I can revisit many times to marvel over Irrfan’s acting skills -

Scene 1 –
Ashoke looks at his shrunk clothes and tells his wife, why she had to venture out into an unfamiliar world to get the laundry done. Ashima, who tries to do things as a dutiful wife, feels hurt by her husband’s charge and locks herself up in another room. And then it is Ashoke cajoling his wife to let it be and begging her to smile a little. You have to watch this scene to understand – the emotions of slight annoyance, persuasion, respect, and affection – all blending together into creating Irrfan’s dialogue delivery.

Scene 2 –
Ashoke goes to Gogol’s room to gift him the book – The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol on his birthday. Ashoke wants to narrate the story of the origin of his son’s name. But he doesn’t get the opportunity to do so, as Gogol seems least interested in knowing anything about the book. He rather wants to concentrate on the music he is listening to. Ashoke sits in his son’s room as Gogol puts the music off. Ashoke understands that his presence is unwanted; he pats his son and quietly leaves from there. As a construction of a scene – it could be a simple one. But it is not. Watch it to understand how a father runs through an emotional quandary and feels uneasiness in approaching his son. But Ashoke chooses not to overstep Gogol’s space. A lot is conveyed through Irrfan’s expressions in this scene – between his want to tell the story and not being able to do anything – he decides to leave.

Scene 3 –
Ashoke walks with his son to the seashore but forgets to bring a camera. He then asks Gogol to capture the event in his mind forever that he had visited such a beautiful shore. The dialogue in this scene has been a personal favourite over the years – “Remember that you and I made this journey together to a place where there was nowhere left to go.”
Back in 2007 when I first watched this film and wrote about it on my blog - this scene had moved me to tears even then, and it still holds the same power. It numbs me, whether I am in a happy or vulnerable state. This scene manages to shake up the equilibrium – whatever it is.
Over the years, several times, I remembered Ashoke’s lesson and captured the episode in my mind and heart, when a camera wasn’t handy. Actually, the best of the events have all been imprinted in the mind and heart. 

* In ‘The Lunchbox’ - Sajjan Fernandes is like my first love – S. Like Sajjan, S had waited it out – several times in life, without expecting much in return. The best part about having a platonic relationship is that you put a lot of emphasis on emotional bonding. And sometimes, that’s all you require when everything else fails. Between not being able to see each other for months together and then sitting next to each other, without uttering a word – a lifetime passes by.
There are several scenes that I like in the film. Most scenes are just driven by Sajjan’s terrific expressions and not dialogues. Sajjan’s childlike anticipation of the lunchbox, touching and sniffing - just to reaffirm that it is from Ila, plating of food items, savouring and even assessing them critically, his long glances at the ceiling fan or that look at his neighbour’s dining table – all laced up with the feeling of immense solitude and the desire for companionship.

Scene at the restaurant and bathroom
Sajjan looks into the mirror as he gets ready to meet Ila at the restaurant. He is in his usual office attire – tucked-in shirt and trousers. As he is about to step out of the bathroom, he goes closer to the mirror and keeps looking at his face. Something strikes him all of a sudden and things change. Later, as the film progresses, he writes to Ila telling her that he is a witness to her beauty and also to his aging.
Sajjan’s expression in the bathroom changes from being optimistic to turning into melancholic – all within a few minutes. He looks around in the bathroom and gets a sense that it now smells of an old man. Somewhere in all this, he has lost his youth. He becomes aware of it more now. Sajjan writes to Ila –      “I forgot something in the bathroom, and when I went back to get it, the bathroom smelled exactly like it smelled after my grandfather took a bath. That’s when I realised it wasn’t him; it was me.” 

* In ‘Piku’, Rana Chaudhry is like a flirtatious neighbour, whose style of flirting is thankfully subtle. He has a good heart and doesn’t hold back in calling spade a spade, like - when Rana tells Bhaskor that if Piku felt of him as some sort of a burden, she wouldn’t have arranged for this trip to Kolkata.
I had written a blog spot on what I feel about this film -  Piku. Out of all the scenes, the conversation regarding a peaceful death stayed with me over the years -

Scene
Bhaskor tells Rana at the breakfast table that he shouldn’t have allowed his father to be put on a ventilator and that the entire process must have caused him more suffering than doing any good. Rana tells him that he followed what was told by the doctors. It’s a terrific scene where Rana just looks at Bhaskor all perplexed and disoriented, and is unable to fathom if he was the cause of his father’s death.
Whether it was Ashoke Ganguli, Sajjan Fernandes, or Rana Chaudhry - each of them brought me closer to the people they portrayed. The characters remained so real that I could relate to them - laughed, cried, empathised, and grew up with them. They conveyed a purpose, sometimes with dialogue and sometimes with just facial expressions. That’s the power of a splendid actor. Irrfan Khan had that kind of power.
   
That’s why, losing him seems to be like a personal loss. And I share this grief with millions of Irrfan Khan fans across the globe.

आँखों की नमी
हाँ तेरी मेहेरबानी है
थोड़ी सी उम्मीदो से आगे
ऎसी कहानी है

Irrfan sir, I took a moment to say Goodbye to you. I, however, wish I never had to.

16 April, 2020

I

I am here, again
Restless and doubtful
I question my existence, my identity, my spirit
Again
Am I just a dot on a piece of paper?
A small, inconsequential, defective dot
Or am I more than that?
A fly, maybe
The one that irritates you,
And you shoo it away every time
Am I a honeybee?
The one that scares you
But you still run after its nectar
Who am I, really?
A human being – am I one?
Am I the one, who feels superior to every other creature on the planet? 
Am I more influential than a dot, a fly, or a honeybee?
If yes, then why am I here, again?
Why do I feel feeble, exhausted, and powerless?
Was I running too fast, all this while?
Was I aiming too big, beyond my will? 
Maybe it is time to close my eyes and rest
And ponder over my actions done in haste

Today
My expectations have dissolved me into nothingness
I feel nothing more than a dot on a piece of paper
A small, inconsequential, defective dot
But one day, I will grow out of this emptiness
Into the world of my liking
Where I will march slowly, and expect less
I will be born right in the next phase
Until then, I pause
Within my dot, I rest