Malancha - The garden

I read Malancha , by Rabindranath Tagore.

I don't know why, I am disappointed and sad. (Am I allowed to say that about Tagore?)

I am sad about what the novel represents too, human emotions are not always tangible. Has anyone ever really understood love? Does that thing really exist? Or is it just an illusion?

 

Why does this happen in our country, again and again? Will there ever be a time when women are safe?

The fault in our stars

I just finished reading The fault in our stars, by John Green.

I don't buy these books, last book I bought for myself was Tagore's Gora, but people around me are generous when it comes to gifts. Sometimes they lend me books or forget books at my place. Sometimes they talk me into reading stuff I stay away from. (I read 'The Notebook' last month, somebody talked me into it).

But this book, it literally left me devastated.

Hazel Green and Augustus Waters could have been star-crossed lovers, but their stars are all wrong. They meet at the young cancer victim support group. Hazel's lung cancer is diagnosed to be terminal, Augustus's bone cancer has made him an amputee, but he is on remission with an 80% chance for survival.

They bond over her favourite book, he uses his 'one genie wish' to take her to Amsterdam to meet the writer(as she had used up her wish to go to Disneyland). The writer turns out to be an insensitive drunkard, but Hazel and Augustus have a good trip nonetheless. Of course, they are young, in love, and mostly alone during the trip.

But soon Augustus has bad news. His cancer had spread all over his body, 'My body is made of cancer' he says. Now Hazel, has to watch her handsome, good spirited boyfriend deteriorate day by day. He even makes her write a eulogy 8 days before his death. Hazel had always wanted Augustus to write her eulogy, as she was supposed to be dying and he had a pretty good chance for survival.

She meets the writer again at Augustus's funeral, his way of life turns out to be the casualty of a loved one's death.
Hazel now wonders about her own life, and death, which she knew would reach her soon. She hunts for the missing page from Gus's notebook, and it turns out to be a eulogy, hers, which she had wanted him to write.

I know this doesn't do any justice , its just really , really sad. And it is meant to be that way.

So really, blame the stars!

Some more of my favourite 60's mystery flick songs.

 

If only her tears were real! This could have been one of the best love songs of Hindi cinema.

 

 



 



I am stuck on these lines.

Hum ko mili hain aaj ye ghadiyan nazeeb se,
Jee bhar ke dekh leejiye hum ko kareeb se,
Phir aap ke nazeeb mein ye baat ho na ho
Shayad phir is janam mein....

Only Love is real?

Memories..

The ineradicable footprints of time. They follow us right from the tender years of childhood, we see them lurking behind every corner, as shapeless shadows waiting to pounce on us, to drag us back into the past, to a long-gone day, to some lost bits of laughter and tears, to some long-buried emotions.

But do they have to be linked to the definite past? According to Dr Weiss, we all have memories of past lives, only we have no control over them. They are triggered at odd moments though we do not identify them as memories. An unknown fear or an unreasonable affinity, to a place, a thing, a person...

Sometimes they are triggered by a touch, something as simple as a casual handshake. Suddenly you are overwhelmed by a feeling that something was oddly familiar about that touch. There are emotions linked to that touch, it could be fear, it could be annoyance or it could be pure love. You would have spent a lifetime hiding from those hands, they would have given you unforgivable blows, or you would have lived in their protection, their comfort, their love.

Since love is a superior emotion, let's forget anger and fear. Only love is real.

Love doesn't always have to be romantic love,  according to Dr Weiss, souls do not know of a thing called romantic love, they just want to be together.

Those hands would have picked you up as a child, soothed you when you cried, fed you your first meals, held your hand when you took your first steps.....


Or you would have spent your childhood fighting and making up with those hands, you would have held them on your long walk to school, shared secrets, made promises...

Or may be, those were the hands that held yours in a solemn vow. They would have loved you and cherished you for a lifetime.May be those hands were wrapped around you on the night you discovered the music of your heart, when you lay half-awake , gazing at a lonely star through an open window, half-observing the stillness of the night, not wanting to change a single thing about the world. May be those hands secured a blanket over you after you fell asleep, or took the stray strands of hair away from your face. You would have found your dreams in their comfort and caresses, found courage with their support,  you would have told them that you wanted to hold them till the end of the world, even when they're all wrinkled and shaky with old age. Then may be, you would have fallen short of the promises of eternity, and they would have held you when you took your last breath. You would have been aware of their untimely shakiness even as you were slipping away, and you would have used up all your remaining strength to tell them that you are not done holding them.


Or may be, just may be, those were the little hands you held with great joy, you would have counted those fingers nervously and kissed them a thousand times. Or may be you just wanted to hold them so much ,  but you were taken away from them before you even got to see them..
Well, life is, you know, ......

Only love is real, is the story of Elizabeth and Pedro, two of Dr Weiss' patients who had sought past life regression to recover from the trauma from personal loss. After many individual sessions their doctor understood one thing, these two, who did not know each other, who did not share cultural or social backgrounds, had been clearly talking about each other in their sessions. All the doctor had to do was to make sure that they meet in his waiting room  a couple of times. A little help from destiny, a delayed flight, a few smiles, a handshake, the two fell deeply in love and got married, without knowing anything about their role in in each other's past lives.

A touch can awaken your soul, it might confuse you and confound you with strange emotions and trigger vague memories of some other life. Sometimes your whole life changes over a handshake.

It's  amazing, if you believe in these stuff, that is...
 

Serious thoughts on serious reading

I 've never been a serious reader.  It's not like I've never tried. I've read Marquez and Kundera, but I am incapable of staying highbrowed when it comes to reading. Is that a crime?

I was talking to my uncle the other day. He happened to have seen that 'long story' I wrote. He is a serious reader, and probably a member of 'Chetan Bhagat should stop writing' club. Years ago, he had read few of my Malayalam stories and had remarked that they are not completely hopeless. This time he was not that kind. He said that a general awareness of literature is not enough if I really intend to write. He suggested that I should start reading, seriously.

So I went to the books stall and bought some books.

There was a time in my life when I was totally into Russian literature. From Gogol to Sholokov, I 've read something of many of the great  Russians. I admire Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Chekov and Turgenev, but if you ask me which writer influenced me the most, I would say Nikolai Dubov.

Dubov wrote about children, he did not write for them, he wrote about them.  His characters were children in complicated situations. Very few writers have captured a child's mind  as well as Dubov.
Dubov's children come from different walks of life, they are puzzled by the unsolvable riddles life throws at them, they make important discoveries, they tackle grief and they live.

And I think I'm not cut for literature.

I was just about to start Benyameen's Aadujeevitham (Goat days- These days it's considered a crime not to have read it), when someone gave me a copy of Only love is real by Dr Brian Weiss. Instincts tell me to stay away from this book, but before I know I am on page 116. True stories of past lives and soul recognition - how in the world will I stay away?


 

My ultimate feel better playlist

These songs always make me feel better, even when I am in the depths of despair. May be it's a good time to share them.


10, Mein zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya from Hum Dono ( Statutory warning - Smoking is injurious to health)

9, Kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nisar from Anari

8, Zindagi pyaar ka geet hain from Soutan. I wish I could do house work like that.

 

7, Hanste Hanste from Khoon bhari maang

6, Aaja piya tohe pyaar doom from Baharon ki sapne



 

5, tadbeer se biqdi hui taqdeer banade from Baazi

 

4, Ruk jaana nahin tu kahin haar ke from Imtihaan

 

 

3, Aa chal ke Tujhe, mein leke chaloom from Door gagan ki chaon mein

 

 

2, Raahi Manwa Dukh ki chintha kyoom sathathi hain from Dosti

1, Ye jeevan hain from Piya ka ghar

There are some Malayalam songs too, but I'll create a separate playlist for them.

Little drops of water, little grains of sand

I dread reading the news paper these days, they make me terribly upset. New details of the 'scam' unfold everyday, revealing ugly faces of our respectable statesmen. We had 2 harthals in the past 2 weeks.

Couple of days ago I made the mistake of going to the city. My errand list was simple. I had to go book shopping , pick up a cake for my nephew's birthday, buy a present and get some exotic 'real' fruit juice for the boys. I went in full confidence that no harthal was declared that day. But almost all the roads were closed due to some student strikes , I could not go anywhere near dc books and I ended up spending hundreds of rupees on auto rikshaw rides. I felt tired, hopeless and agitated, and strangely I felt guilty too.

I always believed that I want us to come back and settle down here in Trivandrum. My husband works for a German company now, but I always thought I could talk him into moving here when its time. Now probably my arguments will not have the same strength and vigour.

It got me thinking about the society. How can people be so greedy? Given a chance, they want to swallow the entire world. Why?

Then I reminded myself that, this is not a rule. There are exceptionally good people too..

My mother and my mother in law dragged me to see a doctor last week. I am not overly fond of the clan of doctors. They are mostly greedy and vague (with the exception of a certain radiologist, of course!). But this gentleman turned out to be an extraordinary exception. He works for a Govt hospital and spends most of his hours there. If you go for a consultation at his home, he would receive you, but would refuse to take any fee.

And then there is this family friend, who spends her pension and family pension to sponsor bright students from poor families. She has been doing this for years and years, I don't know how many engineers and doctors owe their success to her, how many of them are still grateful.

Her granddaughter is getting ready to go to Canada for higher studies, on student loan.
'I have given her an acre of land, she can sell some if she wants' The old lady says with a smile.

Though this makes me think about, 'how much I'm not doing',  I cherish the thought that I made acquaintance with some selfless and motivated people who are clear about their take on life.

May be some of those successful engineers and doctors would stay grateful and would care enough to pass on the torch. 'Little deeds of kindness' do have their vibrations.