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And this is a day I don't ever want to forget. Ever. For more reasons than one :) PS: I love you my darlings :) PPS: I am so awesome (And this is just so that I don't forget that. Ever again!)
My normal weekend would be either working at office or refreshing my facebook page at home or at home, thinking about work and wondering why a particular module failed. Anything apart from this is not a 'normal' weekend.
So when Renie from Indiblogger called me to tell me i had tickets to watch a play at the Theatre Museum, Chennai, he did tell me that I did not 'have to' write a review for the same. But without resorting to my usual lame excuse of 'crazy mundane IT job' I decided to post this review- even though it comes a week too late (thanks to my crazy mundane IT job of course), because it was a weekend that was not 'normal' after a very long time. And thank God, Renie and Stray Factory for that. At the outset, i must tell you that I'm not a regular theatre person. So, my review might not comply with standard reviewing regulations! Also, I do not know who played who in the play (not all of them, that is) so I will be referring to the character names here - apologies for that. Anyway, the play is Hitchcock by the theatre group Stray Factory. It is a compilation of three short plays for 90 minutes based on the TV series 'Alfred Hitchcock Presents' and it has Hitchcock written all over it.- the acting, the sets, the colours, the lighting, the dialogues, the music and of course the plot. The behind-the-screen shadows and silhouettes was a fantastic idea (pardon me my ignorance, but is that a pretty common thing??). And keeping the theme black, white and red- brilliant!What did i like best? The music, the lighting, the Emcee and the third act.What did i like least? the second act, the predictable endings, the location of my seat and the mosquitoes outside.The opening, though a bit late, was charmingly done by the emcee. The bit that i liked in particular was his rather murderous manner of asking the audience to switch their mobiles off. His subtle humour was in true Hitchcock style and delivered with a straight face, it was perfect! -> Like! Play 1 was 'The Right Kind of House'. The first scene opened to what seemed like a humorous play - Sally and Mr. Hacker, though they sounded a bit too rehearsed were adorable. But as the play progressed to the second scene, the mood and nature took a complete turn and this transition was so smooth and gradual that i really did not notice the first 30 minutes fly by. I must say it was the second scene that I really liked- especially the part where Evelyn (Aishwarya Mahesh) narrates her story and the past and present is shown back to back - while the audience is given enough clues to differentiate between the time frames. I thought the conversation between Evelyn and Mr. White was successful in holding the audience's attention, and both of them were really good, although I'd tip the scales in favour of Mr. White :-) Play 2 was 'Triggers in Leash'. Now, I wouldn't say I didn't like the play but I liked it the least. It maybe because it did not involve any murder or suspense :-) but mainly because the end was too predictable, plain and quite honestly, i thought it dragged a bit. The cowboy chauvinism was evident in the actors' posture and mannerisms, and Maggie- i would have imagined someone much older and a bit crude to play that part- definitely not someone so elegant! But I thought she did a great job- nice smug smile to the end :-) Play 3 was 'The Motive'. Definitely the best of the lot. Predictable though it was, I thought the actors did a brilliant job. Mathivanan Raghavan and Vivek Hariharan - *applause applause*. The plot, the music, the acting, the dialogue delivery, the expressions- i thought it was perfect. Although i liked the drunk Mathivanan as opposed to the sober version :-) What i liked best was that this play looked the least rehearsed (in a good way!) and the actors seemed to be very much at ease with the characters that they played. Loved it! As they say, save the best for the last! To sum up, I had a wonderful evening and enjoyed the play. Kudos, Stray Factory :-)
A few days back, a senior colleague of mine dropped me a very thought provoking mail. I was surprised at the onset but I'm glad the person did so. First, it's been a long time since I've talked/mailed about something like this to anyone. Not that it involved much intellectual stimulation; it is a topic that should come naturally to the affected, but to discuss something that had nothing to do with movies, music, career, marriage or relationships was a welcome change. Second, this becomes my first blog post in a long time :)
I am just pasting here my reply to the statement that the aforementioned colleague of mine made. The statement, in parts, was, "...not rooted anywhere and so do not have a solid idea of ‘self’..." _______________________________________ I beg to differ here. Instead of seeing it as 'not rooted anywhere' I would like to believe that I find my roots in more than one place. Sure it is difficult to come up with a specific place when someone asks me where I am from. My parents are from Kerala. But I am hardly a Malayalee. Then again, I do stand by my culture and customs. I was not born a Mumbaiite but my outlook and thinking are that of a Mumbaikar. And now, influenced by that of a Chennaiite :) In that respect, I am not fenku. I've had the best of all the worlds :) [---deleted sentence---] I believe the idea of self has nothing to with where you are from. It has more to do with what you want yourself to be. Which, in our cases, is easy because we have the choice to be what we want to be- to convince ourselves, if that be necessary, and also to give selective first impressions to the world- who are actually the ones obsessing with communal groupism. Among a South Indian crowd, I am a Malayalee. Among a North Indian crowd, I'm a Mumbaikar. But to myself- I am both. That way, everyone's happy :) We need not be type casted as the 'typical' crowd. We're the hybrids! Maybe I will agree that we do not have a solid idea of native identity. But that of self, that has nothing to do with where our origins lie. I am sorry I've ranted on like a wanna-be philosopher. But clearly, one doesn't need to possess profound erudition to talk about such things :) ------------ It's all perception really. One needn't feel like a misfit for too long. One is brought up a particular way only till she/he chooses to be brought up that way. After which, maturity makes it become free will. I do not believe that has influenced or hampered, in any way, my idea of self. I just have a problem with the society's idea of myself :P :) _______________________________________
But that is my take, anyone to agree or oppose?
My question is, would it matter to someone if a friend/partner does not completely belong to one place, in every sense of the word, even if the person himself/herself is at peace with it?
" Monica: What's that noise you just made? Chandler: Oh that? That's my work laugh. Monica: Your work laugh? Chandler: Yeah, and if you want to survive this party, you'll need to come up with one too."
" Chandler: Okay, I don't sound like some crazed, drunken pirate. Monica: I know you don't. But work Chandler does! " From: FRIENDS- The One With Chandler's Work Laugh
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Now I have a work laugh too. And a work talk (no talk rather) And a work smile. In fact, I'm living a different person's life at work. And I have no idea why! I'm hoping it will change though...
Anyway, Hi! I am Work Divya. Not an avid blogger apparently. She'll come around. Hopefully, soon.
Such hypocrites I tell you! For the records, I have finally joined Cognizant and am officially a working woman! *taaliyan taaliyan* So anyway, as I was saying, such hypocrites! Who? Well, here's who: I am a straight girl, as in non lesbian (just stating a relevant fact, no revelations). So what do straight girls do? They look at guys; attractive guys most of the time. And that's what I did. I happened to spot one good looking guy in a batch of 270 and well, I used to look at him whenever he was around. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the dreamy 'oh-I-wish-you-were-mine' look; I know better than that! Yeah so well, what's so controversial about that? Don't guys ogle at girls almost ALL the time? Like, duh-huh! But when a girl does it, and it becomes slightly(ok, very :P) obvious, people have to create a big hullabaloo. Suddenly there are friends' of the guys inquiring about the girl as to, 'what kind of a person she is'. Ermm.. a normal heterosexual girl, thank you! Suddenly a whole bunch of the guys' batch mates gang up and act like goons when the girl is around, in an attempt to ridicule her. Suddenly the guy has on the spot bouts of extreme unnecessary attitude. Suddenly everyone in the batch thinks all the girl thinks about is the guy and everything the girl does is an attempt to get to talk to him. Hold it you buncha nincompoops! She's already bored of the guy! Ok, so most of it is just either acts of unconditional immaturity or outcomes of lack of social evolution. But to question the intentions and may I say, integrity of a person just because she (I will not say, he because that circumstance never arises) found someone attractive? That's taking it too far. And why is that it is okay for a guy to check out girls but not vice versa? I don't get it! Such hypocrites I tell you!
I moved in to a new flat last month. It's right on the main road. For the past one month, there has never been a quiet awake moment. It's either the loud share autos, or the blaring Pondi buses or the never ending two wheeler crowd...you get it. But today, as I was sitting in my favourite spot in my room, looking out of the window, I noticed, that one side of the road was filled with vehicles moving away and the other side completely empty. Not a single vehicle, not even a bike coming towards my side. And I noticed that striking resemblance it had to my present life, however cliched that sounds. Today is a bad bad day. So was yesterday. Sukdi left yesterday. Monk-ey has been relocated. Bhai will leave this month. This is a bad bad month. I've been losing my friends for the past one year. One by one, they left; some from the city, some from my life. And there haven't been anyone coming my way. And now suddenly, my best friend, Monk-ey too; and so soon.
I haven't moved out of Chennai; I won't, for a long time. But Chennai, whatever part of it I had come to love, is slowly fading away.
Hello! Nice day, eh? Splendid indeed yeah.
Remember those sweet nice things you heard as a child that made you believe the world was a wonderful place? Things your parents/grandparents/forefathers/old wise guy of your family talked about? Well, you know what? I'd like to punch whoever it is who came up with all that shit load of crap so hard in the nose that it comes out of his/her butt hole.
1> Hard work pays: Wrong. If you're lucky; born with that lucky line on your palm your palmist talked about, you win. Else you're a goner.
2> Good things come to those who wait: NO. They don't. People who wait just get squished by people who don't. Or they end up being 40 and single. (No dearie, that's not a good thing!)
3> Nice things happen to nice people: Wrong again. Nice people waste time being nice and miss out on all the fun. So stop being such a pansy, take a deep breath and say fuck off to the next guy who jumps the queue.
4> Everything happens for the good: Ha! I don't even know how this one stood the test of times! God save the next person who quotes this to me :|
No offense to anyone, I don't intend to prove anyone wrong. I'm just thinking aloud. And I'm happy blogging about it. Cuz my parents have definitely had enough of all this gyaan from me.
Life was fine. Not the best possible one could ask for, but I was happy. Heck, I was very happy; with the people I loved, doing things I loved. You get the point!
I have a new driver now. My old driver left for some personal reasons and now we have this guy who is new to Chennai and knows nothing about the roads, the routes and the traffic. Anyone who has been to Chennai will know what I mean when I talk about Chennai traffic rules. There ARE no rules. You find your way and go ahead, any way! It is hard to find a vehicle here which does not have at least one dent on it
So our new driver, who is used to roads of Dubai and earlier, Mumbai, is extra cautious about driving, waiting for all the vehicles to pass and going oh-so-slow. I mean, very VERRRRY slow!
It was one such time when he was crawling through the roads of Chennai that I lost my cool. I was returning home from a temple and had to get home and watch a movie. And by the looks of it, I wouldn’t have got to watch the movie for a long time!
‘Anthony! Why are you driving so slowly?? You’re letting all the vehicles pass us! Can’t you go a little faster?’
‘Yes Madame, ok Madame’
A minute passed and 10 cars overtook ours.
‘Anthony!!!’
‘Madame?’
‘A little faster!’
Silence.
‘Do you have something important to attend to, back home Madame?’
‘Not particularly, but it won’t harm anyone to go a little faster, would it?’
‘Madame, how many times have you taken this road?’
‘Loads of times. This was the road I took to college, for 4 years!’
‘How many petrol bunks are there on the way?’
‘2. Why?’
‘Ok. What about temples?’
‘Quite a few, around 4 or 5.’
‘Hmmm… and which is your favourite house on the ECR (east coast road)?’
‘Err… I don’t know… never looked so closely.’
‘Madame! You’ve travelled this road for 4 years! And there are so many beautiful houses on this road. There’s the one with a lot of bougainvilleas, the one next to the Muthappa temple, the one with the high walls surrounding it, the one with the tall trees... and you can’t even think of one?’
I was stunned. I knew Anthony had never been to the ECR before. And yet, he had seen all that I had never cared to see. What was I to do hurrying back home? Watch a movie filmed in some faraway land when I didn’t even know what was there in my own?
The first few years were like a dream. Husband, wife, a two year old boy and a half a year old girl- happy family. And then the cement factory he worked for closed. Now that she thought of it, then was probably when things had started falling apart. He had to move to a shady place which was a good 8 hour travel from their house. And so Sunita had to stay alone, while her husband visited her every once a week. She worked as a maid servant in the houses nearby- all for her husband and the children. The work was too much for her frail body to take but she thought nothing of it. Her husband had given her a reason to live and she worshiped him. After all, if it wasn’t for him, she would’ve been working in some sleazy brothel. Quite naturally, she didn’t see the signs when he took to drinking in her absence. Or when he started sleeping with another lady in the other town. She did not ask him where he stayed the whole week. Or why was it that every week, he seemed to give her lesser and lesser money for the family’s expenses. She did not once suspect him of dishonesty. Her love for him was beyond all such emotions. Until, when one day he came home fully drunk, swaying from side to side and cursing people she had never heard of. That was the day he had first slapped her and only because she had asked him why he was drunk. He had hit her and kicked her and called her a dirty whore. He had shouted at her and repeated again and again that he should never have married her, that he should have let her rot at her aunt’s or maybe at the place where they had planned to take her. It had made no sense to her then. She still loved him. She said nothing. She could say nothing. But then it became a routine affair. His visits reduced, so did the money. By the time the third child was born, Sunita had to work at three houses. And when on some weekends he did come home, she had to endure the insults and pain. But still she could not bring herself to defy him, to yell back at him. Her love did not stop her anymore, for it was now buried deep under a surfeit of emotions of fear and gratitude. Her duty was obligatory. Her moral self wouldn’t let her shout back at the man who had helped her at the most crucial juncture of her self. She was trapped under her own feelings of liability that forbid her to even bear thoughts against her husband. After all, if not for him, where would she be now? No, she could not say anything against this man who had saved her from peril, not even when she had heard he had not one but two other wives in the other city; not even when he hit her and robbed her off her money; not even when she suspected he had started hating her. She could not be disloyal to her once hero. But now, sitting there at the brink of the dirty stream, she thought of everything she had had to endure. Her eldest son was 16 years old now. She had lived with a man turned monster for the past fourteen years. When he wasn’t around to torture her, she dreamt of him torturing her. Why was she living like that? She had suspected for long now that he was stealing from her and giving it to his other wives and other children. He did not love her anymore. As for her, she didn’t know. Even if there was any love left in her for him, it was too far beneath all the fear and hate she felt for him now. Yes, he had saved her once, but he had enslaved her for a long time now. And she could not bear to make it forever. She was working after all, in fact for the past so many years she had been single handedly managing the household, no help from him. She didn’t need him any longer to drain her money and well being. She remembered her mother had told her once that a woman was incomplete without her man. She had believed that and lived by it for so long. But she could not take it any longer. She had three children to look after, the eldest of whom was already helping her with a little income. She was not alone in the world after all, and she didn’t need him. The sun was out now. It shone with a fierce brightness. She had made up her mind. She felt a small tear run down her cheek, her last minute of weakness she thought. And she felt strangely elated. There was a garbage heap clogged at one side of the stream. She found a long stick and prodded at the heap. She could see the water below, muddy but uncluttered, with an urge to gush ahead. After all these years of self imprisonment within her own endless heap of complex emotions, she had never thought it possible that she would be happy at the thought of leaving him. But she was. Happy. Very happy. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CELEBRATING WOMANHOOD INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY 2009
PS: I love you my darlings :)
PS: I love you my darlings :)
