Every generation has to bear a curse.
Our generation was fortunate enough to have everything going for us. We had good education, have good work, good money. We are well travelled. We have resources at our fingertips. We have means to get most of the things we want.
The curse is lack of respite.
--
Even with a fast pace of life, there are some things which have the power to bring everything to a halt. A sudden standstill. Like memories. Memories of childhood. Of Aai and Achcha. Of Akash, Bai and Pitaji. Of Gopuri. Of Shanu and Shweta. Of friends. Of Kerala.
Those memories are not always happy ones, but the sieve of time has filtered out all positive and negative connotations attached to them. Some memories bring smiles. In most cases however, there's absolutely no emotion attached. Just neutrality. As if it the story of someone else's life.
--
We didn't have a television while growing up. I watched movies in theatre or on the office VCR, always in the cosy company of family and friends. Everyone in my family has been a movie buff. Even my grandparents. I remember countless re-runs of Anand, Jaagte Raho, Shree 420, Boot Polish, Jagriti, Disney Cartoons on the office TV. I don't remember much of what I thought of these movies. All I remember is the AV room cum library. The musty smell of the pillows and rajais. The onslaught of mosquitoes. The Good Knight-Kachhuachhaap-smoke of half burnt green neem leaves combo to drive the mosquitoes away.
And the warm glow of the flickering screen in the quiet darkness of the room where the five of us would huddle together. For me that's still the true semblance of a family.
--
The movie 'Anand' was a staple. The highlight of the movie was always the song Kahin Door Jab (despite everyone ridiculing Mukesh's voice). I guess I must have realised even then that there was some magic happening there on screen. Those 5 minutes where Rajesh Khanna (sans his herogiri) reveals himself before us made a lifelong impact. It struck a chord. The song is one of the best examples of revealing your deepest self to the world, done so in privacy and solitude of one's own company. There is no crude, coarse desperation in that sadness. If anything, it comes forth in a simple display of words, melody and acting, that misery can be poised and elegant.
--
My day ends today with this song in the background, my nose pressed against the glass pane of my room looking out on the Paris skyline, and the blue night beam of Eiffel in close grasp. Everything together reminds me once again how important it is to live every single moment, whether happy or sad, and that nothing is worth sacrificing little bits of time for yourself.
Our generation was fortunate enough to have everything going for us. We had good education, have good work, good money. We are well travelled. We have resources at our fingertips. We have means to get most of the things we want.
The curse is lack of respite.
--
Even with a fast pace of life, there are some things which have the power to bring everything to a halt. A sudden standstill. Like memories. Memories of childhood. Of Aai and Achcha. Of Akash, Bai and Pitaji. Of Gopuri. Of Shanu and Shweta. Of friends. Of Kerala.
Those memories are not always happy ones, but the sieve of time has filtered out all positive and negative connotations attached to them. Some memories bring smiles. In most cases however, there's absolutely no emotion attached. Just neutrality. As if it the story of someone else's life.
--
We didn't have a television while growing up. I watched movies in theatre or on the office VCR, always in the cosy company of family and friends. Everyone in my family has been a movie buff. Even my grandparents. I remember countless re-runs of Anand, Jaagte Raho, Shree 420, Boot Polish, Jagriti, Disney Cartoons on the office TV. I don't remember much of what I thought of these movies. All I remember is the AV room cum library. The musty smell of the pillows and rajais. The onslaught of mosquitoes. The Good Knight-Kachhuachhaap-smoke of half burnt green neem leaves combo to drive the mosquitoes away.
And the warm glow of the flickering screen in the quiet darkness of the room where the five of us would huddle together. For me that's still the true semblance of a family.
--
The movie 'Anand' was a staple. The highlight of the movie was always the song Kahin Door Jab (despite everyone ridiculing Mukesh's voice). I guess I must have realised even then that there was some magic happening there on screen. Those 5 minutes where Rajesh Khanna (sans his herogiri) reveals himself before us made a lifelong impact. It struck a chord. The song is one of the best examples of revealing your deepest self to the world, done so in privacy and solitude of one's own company. There is no crude, coarse desperation in that sadness. If anything, it comes forth in a simple display of words, melody and acting, that misery can be poised and elegant.
--
My day ends today with this song in the background, my nose pressed against the glass pane of my room looking out on the Paris skyline, and the blue night beam of Eiffel in close grasp. Everything together reminds me once again how important it is to live every single moment, whether happy or sad, and that nothing is worth sacrificing little bits of time for yourself.
