tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32349621225944246902023-11-15T22:43:03.885-08:00Chronicles from under a banyan treeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-71246152442300210132016-10-14T05:13:00.002-07:002016-10-15T06:53:07.624-07:00Why Must One Watch Pink?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ay3u5Hp80d65_QnfPEgeOPzH2-oc_-2LmO5gQz3R7-A6NTt1YkZLQL23TLK8_WGVG83D4PzxWL9ojIrl7HGaAV6n9pJaBSMvbTqTrEHDEizXP6UJzpA20NlyLTnMpmTJJS5vS-R-BKA/s1600/Pink-2016-Hindi-Full-Movie-Watch-Online-Free.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1ay3u5Hp80d65_QnfPEgeOPzH2-oc_-2LmO5gQz3R7-A6NTt1YkZLQL23TLK8_WGVG83D4PzxWL9ojIrl7HGaAV6n9pJaBSMvbTqTrEHDEizXP6UJzpA20NlyLTnMpmTJJS5vS-R-BKA/s320/Pink-2016-Hindi-Full-Movie-Watch-Online-Free.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Image Courtesy:</span> <a href="https://moviescircle.com/" target="_blank">moviescircle.com</a></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Y</span></b>es, Pink has amazing performances. Every scene, every act
and every move in the movie is well-taken and well edited. Scenes with and
without dialogues are equally powerful. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But, Pink stands out in the box office because there is lot
more to it than great performances. The message it conveys and the manner in which
it is conveyed is truly exemplary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I was watching Pink, I was reminded of:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">A friend who was totally uncomfortable
staying with a girl who had many guy friends. Please note that these guys
never came over to their place. She was simply uncomfortable thinking that she
was in the ‘wrong company’. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Friends who are embarrassed/feel worked up or concerned if their kids, who
are boys love the color pink or purple, love cooking games or ask their mother
for a bindi, while dressing up.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">My friends who have empathized with me saying, ‘after
all you are a girl!’</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">People, strikingly even girls, who have
commented that in the movie ‘No One Killed Jesscia’, the victim, after all,
wore short skirts and she was ‘too’ bold.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">G</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">uys and girls who felt a celebrity woman was
over reacting to a bad touch or making it up, owing to the fact that she played
the leading role in a cult movie.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">W</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">eird advises - you stand too close to guys when
you talk to them.</span><div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -24px;">
Me, really? When?”<br />
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Not when you stand face-to-face when you stand side by side.</span></div>
</span></li>
<li><div style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -24px;">
<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> D</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">on’t tell anyone that you are abused/raped – if
there’s anyone who will be left ashamed – it will be you.</span></div>
</li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -24px;">There is a proverb in Malayalam
which transliterates to ‘whether the thorn falls on the leaf or vice versa, it
is the leaf that is at a loss.’ I am sure there are versions of the same
proverb in all languages. This dictates and mirrors a social mindset. Guys
will after all be guys. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -24px;">It is high time we break this
mindset. If the thorn is at fault – it is; period. Do we consider it respectful and a matter of honor that men rape? If the answer is no, why blame the victim?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There needn’t be a prejudice
that a girl/woman is friendly because of a hidden agenda. Character cannot be
assessed with the length of one’s skirt, the choice of attire or by her choice of drinks.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Subconsciously we – women and men
alike - always try reasoning out why a rape or misbehavior occurred – the girl
wasn’t dressed well, the guy was provoked, she was out at night, she was
walking alone. Have you ever caught yourself saying, “Oh my God! And all this happened
in broad daylight.” So, we have separate rules for days and nights. The truth
of the matter is - a crime is a crime is a crime.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A stranger has no business to teach a girl, on the road, how to dress, who she should be
with, and when she should be outdoors. Rape, abuse and torture has nothing to do with upholding the moral values of our country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have often asked men who, I am
sure are sane, what they would do when they see a girl who is skimpily dressed.
I have often seen a surprise reality dawn on them when they realize that
they would never resort to raping or teaching anyone a lesson. Again, a verdict to the fact that rape and emotional/verbal
abuse is a crime. It may stem out of feudal upbringing or many other
myriad reasons. But, at the end of the day, there are no other explanations or
excuses - it is a crime.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Watch Pink to see things in a different light. Watch Pink to
be aware of what you need to advise your girls and boys. Watch Pink to instill the
most precious of qualities in your children - compassion and mutual respect. Most
girls freeze when they are in a situation where they can be abused. Girls are most often confused and believe that they are the ones at fault. This is true even in the case of child
abuse – girls and boys alike. Do we parents have a role in instilling fear in
our children, to make things easy for us? Think about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As parents, teachers and mentors, I believe, we need to modify our advise patterns and methodologies. Don’t just like and share valuable
pieces of parenting tips you read on the Internet. Practice them! Do it for
yourself. Do it for the next generation. It is not for us to fear a mistake we
may have committed and take a whole crime scene, if any, on our shoulders.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Watch Pink simply because it makes sense. Watch it for yourself. Watch it for
your children and with your children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'll stop with a few - very few - negative comments of the movie I came across, which I think is worth discussing. They are:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">1.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">There was too much drama in the court scenes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">2.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">The climax is predictable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">3.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Why Pink?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">4.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Pink fails to ring a bell in the feudal minds and thus, is a failure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I, personally, love the movie from the title to the climax. The title
breaks your expectation of seeing something cheerful and girly if something’s
termed as Pink. The movie is out and out about changing mindsets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The tears,
the drama and the uncertain faces in the court is a true verdict that fear is a common factor no matter what we know about legal rights of women and the social trend regarding these laws. Nobody really wants to
go to court. So, I think, Pink is pictured as realistically as it can be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">About the climax - I am grateful that the maker did not weigh the
thriller aspect over the intent of the movie. I am truly glad nobody jumps with joy in the court room after the verdict. That would have been unwanted drama. The confused look on the face of the antagonist deserves a special plus. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The 4<sup>th</sup> point stated above is sadly true to a large extent. However, drastic changes never happen. Change is a constant but it takes time. Time will tell and prove it. Let us firmly hope that Pink will be what a movie like Arth, for instance, seems today versus when it was at the time it was made. Until then,
we should be happy even if one out of million mindsets change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Thank you to the makers and the actors - thank you for Pink! </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/03/ennum-eppozhum-speechless.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ennum Eppozhum: Speechless...</span></a></b></div>
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<span style="color: #0000ee; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><u><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/09/saving-mr-banks-two-geniuses-series-of.html" target="_blank">Saving Mr. Banks: A Tale of Two Promises</a></u></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0000ee; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><u><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/04/xcuse-me-home-is-priority-for-me-too.html" target="_blank">'Xcuse Me! Home Is Priority For Me Too...</a></u></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-75873079570989314522016-06-10T07:06:00.000-07:002016-06-10T07:28:05.226-07:00Movies That Touched My Heart: My Sister's Keeper<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bl9fT-cqOCrKu0LrsrOm9q_JUPMI7AtaYDR2zuOLeeJbBVoCzfdIO_tD5XWK469KtWay_39_QBbjfU1Kq395nBYh9g9VIixrW2KwoHDUCJX6yDiRR3hQvRQX390gS0teNLGBZBdQFeY/s1600/msk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bl9fT-cqOCrKu0LrsrOm9q_JUPMI7AtaYDR2zuOLeeJbBVoCzfdIO_tD5XWK469KtWay_39_QBbjfU1Kq395nBYh9g9VIixrW2KwoHDUCJX6yDiRR3hQvRQX390gS0teNLGBZBdQFeY/s400/msk.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Image courtesy: <a href="http://www.movmag.com/" target="_blank">movmag.com</a></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>D</b></span>o a Google search on cancer survivors; the results are numerous.
Do we check for the tragic stories? I don’t think so. It’s not that we don’t
care; it’s just that we rightfully seek hope. But hope may not always take shape of how we know it to be. My Sister's Keeper is a verdict to that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It’s amazing how we force ourselves to stay positive, be
supportive and not lose hope - to motivate and help a
loved one fight terminal illness. We need to get them to believe that it’s
not the end of the road. No disputes – we should. However, sometimes we are so focused
on keeping someone dear, with us that we forget to see the bigger
picture. We take it for granted that the afflicted shares the same dream as ours. After all, who doesn't want to stay alive?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My Sister’s Keeper, an adaptation of the book by the same name by Jodi Picoult, relates the story of the Fitzgerald family and their journey through one of the most toughest of times - helping a member fight cancer. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16.8667px;">Director Nick Cassavetes has carefully sewn a bunch of moments together and wound them around a reel. The highlight is he has done the job without being preachy. Nick strikes the balance of capturing sorrow camouflaged in smiles - a rather difficult feat. This family drama adds a new dimension to the phrase - 'respect life'. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 16.8667px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I watched the movie wearing the cap of a sibling and a friend
– I understood where the strength came from. I watched it with the heart of a
mother –I could feel the turmoil, I sensed questions rising, I welled up and searched for strength. Most importantly, I understood that no mother can ever be fully
understood.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If somebody told me this story before I watched the movie, I’d
never imagine Cameron Diaz having anything to do in it. But, she is in it and
she’s done a fabulous job. Every member of the cast and crew deserves a special
applause. – yes, every one of them!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Be prepared to smile and cry. It’s intense but
it carries a lot of warmth. If you haven’t already, watch My Sister’s Keeper.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">To the
makers and the cast – speechless and sincerely grateful for this truly brave
attempt!</span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-small; line-height: 115%;"><b>Don't Stop. Read More:</b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-small; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 18.4px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/movies-that-touched-my-heart-pursuit-of.html" target="_blank">Movies that Touched My Heart: The Pursuit of Happyness</a></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.4px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/09/saving-mr-banks-two-geniuses-series-of.html" target="_blank">Saving Mr. Banks: A Tale of Two Promises</a></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.4px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/03/my-magic-beans.html" target="_blank">My Magic Beans</a></span></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-48398874028774863852016-04-12T03:14:00.001-07:002016-04-13T05:24:59.416-07:00The Jungle Book – A Story Retold With Much Finesse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqow99FDsskrtoIdH2QDRbPh-A-yFA3YnxpPO6hw_GkrkTxWiqdb0olHG1x11umVYMJkTSBTnY9KK8Qy4nCylV91_rAVO71GGpFhexoRu1zjbVBpS5INEkjj4AzLsWDlK-O0mDZAuk2QU/s1600/JB_Cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqow99FDsskrtoIdH2QDRbPh-A-yFA3YnxpPO6hw_GkrkTxWiqdb0olHG1x11umVYMJkTSBTnY9KK8Qy4nCylV91_rAVO71GGpFhexoRu1zjbVBpS5INEkjj4AzLsWDlK-O0mDZAuk2QU/s400/JB_Cartoon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Courtesy: <a href="http://michaelbarrier.com/">michaelbarrier.com</a>/<a href="http://comingsoon.net/">comingsoon.net</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span></b>he number of times I have watched Disney’s Jungle Book as a child is countless. That was a time when it seemed like I had befriended Bagheera and Baloo. I felt Mowgli was the luckiest
boy on earth. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Who would dare harm a kid who
had a panther, a bear and elephants for friends? Shere Khan and Kaa were scary
but the cartoon made me fall in love with them too. I used to try waking up
Bagheera to throw Kaa down the tree and wait for Shere Khan’s screen space with Kaa.
Why? I even loved the vultures!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">In an
effort to get my son to enjoy this magic, I got him the Diamond Edition of this
legendary cartoon. Watching it with him was like reliving my golden childhood. With
so much of love for the cartoon version, you can imagine the kind of excitement
I felt when Disney announced their 2016 movie version of this age-old cartoon. To
my relief and amazement it was a pleasure to see my son even more excited when
he saw the promos during his TV time.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">And so it
happened this Sunday – two generations sat in front of the big screen, all set
with 3D glasses; equally excited to watch something very close to their heart.
For us elders, it was like watching some of their role model celebrities come back
to life and for the kids it was all awe!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">The makers
have brushed up the characters to give them a more realistic touch. The
elephants, for instance, have been altered to be majestic rather than comic.
There are many characters, which are not included and yet many have been added.
I don’t know if you will or will not miss the ones, which have been omitted.
But, I promise you one thing. Jon Favreau has ensured you get a great expedition
through this jungle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">I loved the
way Justin Marks has remodeled the story for the movie. It works well even for those
who do not know anything about the past versions of Jungle Book – the book or
the cartoon. Most importantly, the story is remolded for us adults. Though the
older version is complete in itself, you get a greater sense of completion when
you watch the movie. This time they dwell into Mowgli’s flashback and do I love
the way they’ve used Kaa’s character to relate that part, or what! The climax
is also something I just can’t stop raving about. It captures the zeal of a
little boy who decides to do something with no one to turn to for advice. Most
importantly, they succeed in including the flaws he can end up making in the
process, simply because he is unaware of what he is going to experiment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">I caught
some comments once we were out of the movies. Some people wanted more of Shere Khan, while others thought there should have been more of Kaa. That, in itself, is
the hallmark of a movie well-made.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">The Jungle Book turns out to be a movie exceeding expectations - a movie strong in story line,
brilliant in direction, wonderful in cast and crew, superb in dialogue delivery
and precise in editing!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">I am still
in awe of Bagheera, Baloo and the elephants. King Louis, the orangutan, is larger than I imagined. I really didn’t expect the movie picturing the monkeys
taking away Mowgli just the way it is shown in the cartoon. In fact, it is done
with added zing. Shere Khan is intense, in gesture and dialogue delivery; even the
threats are so feline in nature – subtle and intense. You wish you could see
more of Kaa; and Rakhsa - she is so very endearing – my heart went out to her. From the
porcupine to Mowgli to the mighty Shere Khan everybody gave a scintillating
performance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">Get your children to taste this fantastic sense of wonder. The U/A certification is only to ensure that you need to be beside them. There are
many scenes, which they may want to watch sitting on your lap or holding you
close. However, their eyes are sure to be glued to the screen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">The
messages are a plenty in this movie. Watch it to find out about how rules are
adhered to in the jungle – you have law breakers everywhere. Watch it to remind
yourself that your fears will continue to haunt you unless you decide to face
it. Watch it to believe in yourself and accept yourself for what you are. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";">Watch it
even if you do not have children of your own – relive your childhood!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>You may also like:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/05/revisiting-disney-frozen.html" target="_blank">Revisiting Disney: Frozen</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/09/maleficient-evil-has-never-been-this.html" target="_blank">Maleficent: Evil Has Never Been This Good</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif";"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #0000ee; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><u><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/09/saving-mr-banks-two-geniuses-series-of.html" target="_blank">Saving Mr. Banks: A Tale of Two Promises</a></u></b></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-18709258075320503282016-03-08T02:11:00.000-08:002016-03-08T19:36:35.559-08:00Say Yes to Equality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRT6dNNFLm-BxQbEKjgBdWu_GH_-UsX5TfbCCiB2FW4QRgGMz1_XUL4immRGSMzgTjwgYO9MehJ_5RnOfSqniXgv6enA7KxuGCxFhXs8uJJymyv4ndVnYyaUnb-PEQpnDpiQtVW_6nBU/s1600/equality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipRT6dNNFLm-BxQbEKjgBdWu_GH_-UsX5TfbCCiB2FW4QRgGMz1_XUL4immRGSMzgTjwgYO9MehJ_5RnOfSqniXgv6enA7KxuGCxFhXs8uJJymyv4ndVnYyaUnb-PEQpnDpiQtVW_6nBU/s400/equality.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: purple;"><b>Image Courtesy: <a href="http://huffingtonpost.co.uk/">huffingtonpost.co.uk</a></b></span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">L</span></b>ast year on Woman’s Day, I used this space to narrate <a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/03/two-tales-and-few-thoughts.html" target="_blank">tales of two women</a> who were bold and beautiful. While I am still in awe of every woman out there who dares to live a
life of their choice; my thoughts have taken a slightly different route this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I’d like all
you pals, men and women alike, to help me understand a few things:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Why Women's Day?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Are we only entitled to a minor share on the number of days on the calendar, as well?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>What exactly is this term called women’s rights?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>I prefer calling it human rights.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Why is there a need to empower women?</b><br /><i>Just recognize our power and worth, you won't need to empower anybody anymore.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Women’s Liberation – what’s that!?!<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am true to my ideology when I ask people not to put women
on a pedestal. There is no need. Just treat them as an equal. We come with our
own strengths and weaknesses. Yes, we are special and so are men. As a woman, I’d
plead to live and let me live.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the recent past, the papers announced that a certain
celebrity couple was contemplating on divorce. Among the many ‘duh?!?’ comments
I heard flying in and around me, this one was the undisputed ruler – ‘Nowadays, just because they work and make some money, women think they don’t need a
husband. Just look at the rising number of divorce rates!’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When you logically decipher that comment in your head you
get an equation, which looks like:<br />
Women + Job = Divorce + Happy Women</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is that so? I have a question to people who justify this
thought:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is financial security the only thing a man has to offer in a
marriage?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The comment I heard can be justified only if the answer to
this is a yes, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If it is a yes, I'm sorry but you were cooking marriage with the divorce recipe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Coming back to women's day...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Thank you for all the cheers and messages glorifying womanhood. I know that there are people out there who really mean it too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But, what we really need is peaceful co-existence, which evolves from mutual respect. I am not a feminist and I don’t intend to be
one. Feminism, to me, is the same as that of
chauvinism.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Try shedding the coat of chauvinism; chances are that you will see feminism vanishing like fog disappearing on a sunny morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let us join hands to gift a world of equality to the younger
generation. We need to be together simply for the joy of being
together! Relationships are built on emotions; it is the application of logic that often spoils it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let's strive to be humans with compassion. Everything else will just fall in place.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>You may also like:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/03/two-tales-and-few-thoughts.html" target="_blank"><b>Two Tales and a Few Thoughts</b></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/12/three-lessons-i-learned-hard-way.html" target="_blank"><b>Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way</b></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/04/xcuse-me-home-is-priority-for-me-too.html" target="_blank"><b>'Xcuse Me! Home Is Priority For Me Too...</b></a></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-58551666055334545712016-01-25T08:43:00.001-08:002016-01-26T01:18:42.901-08:00Let Us Drive!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_f9zuudW_v7r_pH0aJQcjX8xfDCnE_vidmRh09BxJT94LbpWAu6X2-NYxfdhbKtyJ5hYfteFpnpCclIv8LDpMuzVMMqh_uara-dbPOcHOOoFATtJRNwlbMcNKvrnv1edHhcoTdyPaIw/s1600/lady-driving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4_f9zuudW_v7r_pH0aJQcjX8xfDCnE_vidmRh09BxJT94LbpWAu6X2-NYxfdhbKtyJ5hYfteFpnpCclIv8LDpMuzVMMqh_uara-dbPOcHOOoFATtJRNwlbMcNKvrnv1edHhcoTdyPaIw/s400/lady-driving.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Image Courtesy: <a href="http://centralcontracts.com/">centralcontracts.com</a></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">hen I was much younger and dreamed of the woman I would be
someday, I always saw myself driving my own car. To think of it now, I really
don't know how I pictured that dream back then; I grew up in an era when not
many women even cared to be behind the wheel. Anyway, that's what I pictured; and
that is how I commute today. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today, we are in an era where almost all girls take driving
classes. It has become almost as staple as it used to be to take typewriting
classes in the past – you graduate or post graduate, learn driving either after
working hours or while trying for a job. It is not alien to see women driving
nowadays – not even on highways. Yet again, the
‘learned-driving-have-a-license’ to ‘yes-I-drive’ ratio is quite low.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Some say they do not want to because it can be a cause for
husbands to shy away from their part of household help. Some say they just
can't, even though time and again driving instructors have assured them that
they are driving just fine. I even have a friend whose last-so-far driving
instructor started dozing in the passenger seat hoping at least that would be
assurance enough for her. There are others who admit it to be a combination of
both.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This post comes to all of you gals and pals who have several
demons in their heads keeping you away from getting behind those wheels. It's
not that any of us who do, never battled demons, you know?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It took 4 years for my driver's license to graduate from an
address proof to what it was actually meant to be! When we decided to buy a
car, I took a crash course only to find the instructor thoroughly disappointing
and annoyingly </span><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">nosy</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">. I switched to taking weekend classes with a cousin, who
was an awesomely fearless instructor. However, weekend classes proved to be too
less for me. So, my brother offered to come down to give me full-time classes
for a fortnight. I drove, with him beside me, to office and back. In my final
appraisal, he said that I had learnt to connect the dots. Basically, if I got
out of my gate, I would reach the destination – the whens couldn't really be
answered then.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Monday after the weekend my brother left, I was left with
a debating head. One side of my brain prompted how lazy I was to take the bus
or an auto anymore. It reminded me how much at ease it would be if I braved to
drive down. Then there was this other voice screaming out in paranoid, playing
a slideshow of demons – gear-shift, half clutch, parking, etc. - which got my
heart to pump extra blood into my veins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The first step I took was called up my husband and declared
that I am taking the car – alone. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My head was still debating though; it was a
trial to cheat it or convince it, I guess. Throughout the whole process of
getting ready to work, I kept telling myself that I would forget the car key
before I locked my front door and would be lazy to get back in to get it.
Fortunately or unfortunately, that never happened. And so, with a pounding
heart and a head full of demons I chose to drive alone. The traffic on the
street I lived on back then consisted of everything from bicycles to bullock
carts. Owing to the limitations of the expert level I was at that time, there
was no way I could turn back once I hit the road. So, in a way, I was compelled
to drive all the way till office – poor me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, here goes a list of crazy things I did on the road:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">Answering my brother's question, "is that fine? Can you see now?" as he helped adjust my rear-view mirror with a counter-question "What exactly am I supposed to see?" - yea, I was <i>that </i>dumb!</span></span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Honking at a poor old man on a bicycle, on an empty
and wide 2-lane road, when all I had to do was change lanes and move on</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Shifting gears from 3-1 (3 being the highest I would
ever switch to in those days) because I sensed some huge vehicle coming by; I
gave way to a truck and shifting gears from 2-1 in the next couple of seconds;
this time to give way to an aircraft, which flew over me</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Flying over road bumps, which if spotted, would have
earned me a role in the <i>Fast &
Furious</i> or at least one of the <i>Dhoom</i>
series</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Lifting my right leg to give way to the car overtaking
mine</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Praying hard for every place in town to be blessed
with valet parking</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Calculating if it was worthwhile hiring a driver just
to park my car</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Driving in the rain on 1<sup>st</sup> gear alone to
avoid skidding</span></li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The list can go on and on… But, I realized that driving, just
like any other skill, just follows the practice makes perfect policy. The
sooner you realize that and the lesser you think of adversities, which may or
may not befall you, the better. Just do it!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'll stop with one advice a dear friend once gave me, which
made sense and went a long way for me. When you are in your car – think Transformers!
Don’t alienate your car and think of it as <i>its
</i>gears, <i>its rear view mirror, its </i>steering,
etc. You need to feel your car and for that you need to get into a joint
partnership with the same. So imagine all the ‘<i>its</i>’, mentioned above, to be your limbs. In turn, you get to be the
brain and the eyes of your vehicle. The only way you can slow down or pace up
your automobile avatar is by shifting gears – that’s all. Then, do whatever you
do when you walk or run. Try it, to believe it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Happy
Driving!</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/09/be-sensible-and-secure-be-secular.html" target="_blank">Be Sensible and Secure: Be a Secularist</a></span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/12/three-lessons-i-learned-hard-way.html" target="_blank">Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way</a></span></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="line-height: 18.4px;"><br /><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/ethir-disha-definitely-against-tides.html" target="_blank">Ethir Disha: Definitely Against the Tides</a></span></b></span></span></div>
</div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-34128255018081090932015-10-27T11:11:00.003-07:002015-11-27T21:45:21.459-08:00Happys Birthdays<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgO9gY_LoP46BqeRSb-1DneTjp-0XfB9q5gsZChTbaN2i3_Opd4rtZaubM0MOrTu05Om0-haxPX6h6MCFWk-pxlGyWP45tQ12yEE5Xxw-iays_qhCw0k9BJcCW68U_a8GOJ7lQWqB_ZQ/s1600/brthdy_cke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgO9gY_LoP46BqeRSb-1DneTjp-0XfB9q5gsZChTbaN2i3_Opd4rtZaubM0MOrTu05Om0-haxPX6h6MCFWk-pxlGyWP45tQ12yEE5Xxw-iays_qhCw0k9BJcCW68U_a8GOJ7lQWqB_ZQ/s400/brthdy_cke.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Image courtesy: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_candles_on_birthday_cake.jpg">commons.wikimedia.org</a></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b>O</b></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">nce upon a time there was a girl, who like most other
children her age, was super excited about birthdays. Birthdays then, made it to
the top of the list of special days. The attention, the gifts, the leeway one
gets on birthdays, etc. made it all the more cool. The birthday parties with neighbor
friends was most often an event by the kids, of the kids and for the kids! The bill
and food excused as parents’ responsibility, of course. That big box of Quality Street
chocolates and the new birthday dress were pieces of treasure. In a world of
school uniforms, she would tread around like a queen in a civilian outfit,
popularly termed as ‘color dress’. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">S</span></b>he was born in the month of October. It was not just her
birthday that was dear to her. The month of October itself held a very special
place in her heart. In the beginning of the year, before the new calendar took
its place on the wall, she would secretly flip to see the image for the month
of October. Every year she secretly hoped she would forget her birthday and be
surprised when others wished her. The excitement, however, always made sure that
that never happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>A</b></span>s she grew up she attempted many an experimentation on
this day. In junior school she asked the class prefect if she could ‘mind the
class’(an act of making sure the rest of the class keeps it low in between two
class hours) on her birthday. To her surprise, the class prefect not just gave
her the responsibility; she did it like it was an honor to do so. In high school she felt she needed to see how
the Principal’s cabin looked like. Not everyone gets to tread in there. On one
of her birthdays, after she was done distributing chocolates in her classroom, on
her way to the teachers’ staff room, she decided to test if her ‘color dress’
would do its magic on the security guarding the Principal’s cabin. Today, she
wonders if it were the clothes, the big wide smile or the chocolates offered to the
security that earned her a pass to get into the Principal’s cabin. Talk about
small pleasures… ‘He even touched me on my head and said, God bless you MY
girl.” she boasted to her friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">W</span></b>hen she went to college, she learned that birthdays could be
really messy, fun and full of surprises. Those egg smashes, the bucket full of
God-alone-knows-what mixture poured over, the beautifully made-up rooms, which
teenage creativity and some pocket money would permit; the gifts, the midnight
cakes, birthday cards, hugs, wishes, and letters! No matter what difference in
opinion one might have, birthdays always bought the teenage folk together,
which truly meant a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">S</span></b>he grew up to learn that there are also people in this
world who doesn’t care all that much about birthdays. Yes, of course, they felt
good when they were at the receiving end but it seemed too silly to return the
gesture. She felt the explanation too bizarre at first and then faced a thought
provoking question from them– why do birthdays have to be treated special? It’s neither earned nor
is it an achievement; it’s just an automatic process. She never had an answer
for that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span></b> couple of years later, she got the answer during a casual
conversation with a friend, who had lost her husband quite early in their
marriage. “I’ll never turn 40 and it doesn’t feel great.” her husband once told her. He, who
was a cancer patient, may his soul rest in peace. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">S</span></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">he is a mother today and is absolutely delighted to see the sparkle in her
child’s eyes when he learned that mothers have birthdays too. Age has turned
her birthday excitement to gratitude. Gratitude for life, gratitude for
friends, for people who may have gotten on her nerves but invariably pushed her
to discover the best in her and discover her true inner strength, gratitude to
see that excitement doesn’t die off, it simply passes on to the next
generation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">“</span></b>Appa, we should get a Barbie for Amma because she is a girl
and it’s her birthday!” - this thought was the greatest gift she got this birthday.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Y</span></b>es, birthdays are not an achievement.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> But, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">life is not always about achievements, is it? Life is like the air you breathe or like your best physical aspect you have- it may be your hair, your complexion, your teeth, anything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">W</span></b>e don't pay for oxygen so I don't know if we even care about the air we breathe until we get breathless. Similarly, most often your best is the one that is taken for granted. I have dark skin. I also have great hair and a wonderful smile. However, I have spent countless moments of my life trying to get fair. Today, I cherish myself so much more for what I am that I love my skin tone too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">L</span></b>ife is a boon; a blessing! Celebrate, cherish and respect it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Cheers to life!</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>You would also love:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/09/be-sensible-and-secure-be-secular.html" target="_blank">Be Sensible and Secure: Be a Secularist</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/12/three-lessons-i-learned-hard-way.html" target="_blank">Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/06/moments-i-wished-id-photographed.html" target="_blank">Moments I Wish I'd Photographed</a></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-31771201420682901002015-09-07T03:49:00.002-07:002016-01-25T08:49:43.925-08:00Be Sensible and Secure: Be a Secularist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXxczM2KFrKg7VittKkOg3UlGBbK7aqBcrf7-OQVp_k8FBBibyPVc30i9iKB8MQFraaYJZsrnlHbUEYK6PeH_MATC13X_RLG6-8krUF1q_GnYHrOuBOUqRBaE_u6OALD2DVOdlm2q25M/s1600/secular.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXxczM2KFrKg7VittKkOg3UlGBbK7aqBcrf7-OQVp_k8FBBibyPVc30i9iKB8MQFraaYJZsrnlHbUEYK6PeH_MATC13X_RLG6-8krUF1q_GnYHrOuBOUqRBaE_u6OALD2DVOdlm2q25M/s320/secular.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Image Courtesy: <a href="http://cdn2-b.examiner.com/">cdn2-b.examiner.com</a></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">R</span></b>ecently, I stumbled upon this YouTube video, which was forwarded over Whats App:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/4BgWg2EAmww/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4BgWg2EAmww?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">M</span></b>y eyes welled up watching this video, not just because it brought a smile
on my face; it downloaded many a fond childhood memories. The books, which I most
‘greedily’ handed over to my Hindu neighbor-friend, every year, during <i>vidhyarambham</i>, the authoritative advises I gave friends
that they don’t need to study on <i>Good Friday</i> either, the yummy evenings during
the <i>Holy month of Ramadan</i>, the most awaited <i>Eid</i> holidays (I grew up in UAE),
lighting those prohibited sparklers during <i>Diwali</i>, the pleasure and pride with which I took friends to
church during Christmas - a childhood filled with so much of joy, peace and strong bonds of friendship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I</b></span> am secular because I grew up secular and am grateful for
my secular self. Despite the various environmental changes, I have preserved
this self only because it is extremely dear to me. Secularism, I understand now, is a religion
in itself. The more you practice it, the more secular you are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I</b></span>t takes a few clear-headed minds that can make a difference,
for generations to come. As a parent, I am aware of the constant conflict of
rights and wrongs that takes place up in the mind. But, the next time you stop
your child from something as simple as eating something offered to a God alien
to you, it would pay to stop and think about why you are doing so. If the only
answer you get is to protect your child’s soul from perishing in the fires of
hell, think again. Being happy breeds not just a tolerant crowd – it breeds a
friendly lot. For years to come, it gifts them more reasons to smile and fewer
hassles to deal with in this world, which will have enough and more stress to
offer. One less is a lot that we can gift for generations to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>T</b></span>each, by word and practice, about the <i>love</i> of your God.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Why focus on the wrath?</span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>T</b></span>raditions are and should be intended to bring people
together, in every sense of togetherness.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>It should not be to create a divide or show-off one's faith - whatever that means.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span></b>hinking and brooding about this will bear no fruit. However, the moment you start practicing it, believe you me, you will not
just help build a healthier and happier breed; you will feel the magic of peace
within you.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Cheers to a happy planet!</b></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-28615981269769400942015-04-14T03:06:00.001-07:002015-04-15T23:20:45.029-07:00'Xcuse Me! Home Is Priority For Me Too...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjki1jlUFUUsOJHZ7UocNQuz-DX5CTbBSoASXJ4LH5sQKhTQ_2zbj8za3vki6i1IRu7M-T46yBoM21r0cIwxJwHAX5b0xWQPrvaiQ_VFO3S6DRBBfP3GB6YZiKWP6nE7tb2OhJTzdeNrXs/s1600/working-mom-cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjki1jlUFUUsOJHZ7UocNQuz-DX5CTbBSoASXJ4LH5sQKhTQ_2zbj8za3vki6i1IRu7M-T46yBoM21r0cIwxJwHAX5b0xWQPrvaiQ_VFO3S6DRBBfP3GB6YZiKWP6nE7tb2OhJTzdeNrXs/s1600/working-mom-cartoon.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>Image Courtesy: motor-kid.com</i></span></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>long the walk of life, I have met many a women - the ones who choose to follow a career even after they are married and have kids, the ones who choose to be homemakers because that's what they genuinely like doing, and those who choose to be homemakers simply because they are lazy to get out and work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>t is nothing new to find homemakers expressing concern over the homes run by the ones who choose to drive their career alongside. However, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">i</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">t is a matter of observation that the homemaker sect can be divided into two - the ones who are truly content with their lives and the ones who are plain lazy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> have often noted that the truly content homemakers are often less judgmental about the working clan. In fact, most often this sect appreciates the working clan for the energy they exude.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"</b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">Y</span></b>our children will not feel loved", "They will fare bad at their studies.", "Who will take care of your husband's needs?", "Children will get cranky.", "YOU will get cranky.", "As a couple you will grow apart.", "God! Your kids will fall ill too often." are a few among the zillion advises poured out to women who choose to take up a career.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">N</span></b>eedless to say, the ones that fall prey to these are the ones who get little or no support from the people they are supposed to. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's not just women, even men who are just plain lazy and unwilling to do their bit, pour out these kind of advises.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>t is a typical characteristic of these people that they bear no intent to support or offer a helping hand, when it is needed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">"I</span></b> told you so...", is all they will have to offer at a moment of support.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">o all of you <b><i>men and women</i></b> out there who have this train of thought or have been that pregnant cloud down pouring these so-called words of wisdom - this one's for you...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I may be busy scheduling out my day,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I may have a maid to do the regular household chores for me,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Nevertheless, the home runs the way I want it to.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>I manage it!</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I take care to make sure that my home runs just as well in my absence.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The laundry gets done, the house gets swept clean and the kitchen runs fine, not just because I have a maid.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>It's also because</i> <b><i>I know how to maintain her too</i></b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I am sure to have carved out support</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>To ensure my child's safe and well taken care of.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I may not be with my child 24 hours a day.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>But please care to note that</i> <i><b>I am my child's mother</b></i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I take immense care and shell out lots of money</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>To ensure that my child is in safe hands.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Even after a busy day, I make time to</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Chat with my little one, play games, watch cartoons and</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>See the smiles, giggles and laughter.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Like yours, my child too turns to me in times of illness, sorrow and joy because</i></span><br />
<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I am also a mother and a caring one</b>, after all...</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>With all due respect to the life you have chosen to live,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Please respect the fact that like you say your home is your priority,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>It is no different for me.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>It is cruel and downright idiocy to think that just because</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I have chosen to pursue a career alongside I am a selfish being.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Honestly, I think it's high time</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>You change your lens of observation.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>If you can, stop sitting up on a pedestal looking down upon me.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>If not, crib behind my back for all you care.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>Just stop advising me, please...</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Remember, I am just being polite not asking you to stop.</i><br /><b><i>Don't push it!</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I understand that your brain, knowledge train and/or life experience</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Hasn't showered you with the capability of understanding</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The life I choose to live.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Deal with this issue yourself, I pray.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>For I don't have</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The time, energy or space</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>To give you a detailed class.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>Be clear that my child, my home and my life is my problem.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Be aware that I shall heed your advise</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>When I think you may be in a position to offer a solution.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Until then, please understand that</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>Free advises are simply a waste of my time and yours.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Last but not the least;</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Like everybody else on this earth,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I too am observant about the life around me.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I see couples living a fairly good life. </i></span><br />
<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just in case you haven't noticed;</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Love grows and relationships get stronger</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>When</i> <i>male counterparts do their fair share.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Not just when <b>they</b> want things done.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>But also when it is the need of the hour-</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Needless of who is at the needs' end.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>With that note I'd like to enlighten you</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>That my husband may be in relation</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Your brother, your son or your dear best friend.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>However, before you seat yourself on the judge's chair,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>It is a note to ponder that you will</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><b>Never know how he is as a husband - NEVER!</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>So if you cannot hold yourself back,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I would suggest that you</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Reserve your advises for him,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Discuss events or console him, as you please.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>Let me be ME.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Thank you ever so much!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2015/03/two-tales-and-few-thoughts.html" target="_blank">Two Tales and a Few Thoughts</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/12/three-lessons-i-learned-hard-way.html" target="_blank">Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/erin-brockovich-always-inspiring.html" target="_blank">Erin Brockovich: Always Inspiring</a></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-5195400260327879372015-03-29T02:27:00.000-07:002015-03-31T23:20:15.323-07:00Ennum Eppozhum: Speechless...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX19FSCfA5J98ik7lfFNediagxVAgQBcjzGuSf2-hiDp0ITM7yXL_BQTNRFbhVyyTd20qBw-VkSNG2kRPphOYnaXLhXwK6DD7RF8qNJyB3dWVHuX0Bqe9N7HKXWdQEHE-7xaLrzC8Krc0/s1600/Ennum+Eppozhum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>Courtesy: <a href="http://ytalkies.com/">ytalkies.com</a></i></span></b></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Story:</span></b> </span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQ9AP9FS0t1jesKIpyJi1dUfpK_sgpKQhn8ap9Z2PyYu-vgeYwEoY5ELaTCjq3Wii7zhM7FYFtPhfcxCNppIrzdt0mHmgAhaaruhQuOEqETepOHrgPHfRDfaZwzkwYmnH5Jkb0OIGnB8/s1600/Smiley+confused.jpg" height="200" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="193" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/">uncyclopedia.wikia.com</a></span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Cast:</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oj_aW3t2CWlpTxyPZcuKMAgVEG7cX9Y7Xg1HZ2H6RDd4BxhB6qT5z3LDJMWb3X8Ncc2QQ0dZ5L8CBmCcZLbipKA3UAE4oqsJUbPM_1AUnmClaJzgiu1ZjZmGMOEY-F4AlOZ1Au2r4eo/s1600/cast.png" height="199" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://proboards.com/">proboards.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Cast Performance: </b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0hBowGGQon137A3NcqKi25W_zh6o2q69l_PKpvcpWzPVuCO5RRs2N13SXfzz49kZ1_AgFL0kL9fNlwSnAbWvCd1KcplzyzZGeck7IblJdEc7oS-3FKmxWExuNjn2UYxl2cb-qgSIJLs/s1600/ee.jpg" height="152" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://imgarcade.com/">imgarcade.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Dialogues:</span></b> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq5i_XmnuKIKyw9neIY816TGq5x-UVsAmzs0UcbeIBLOuovYV47fsWuncnox9uhbZSh8VjXdRc3RZ09zZEaoQ2VwgRrDEBWZBvqdWcJz3KVe2Ev0XQJruMoBUsSiuLgOcWK2YBLFKXAok/s1600/dialogues.png" height="200" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="171" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://imgkid.com/">imgkid.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Music:</span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnShT8HIfuoB6k3tfjwotpoQOxtm46G99rLGcxWN3knsGJMl3gobUV6dmHyMn0SnmQuUrVXFDCw4xo9LmOQsBmiT8lShQ4y6UP0RhcrrlJMwCZUJwuwk4JL-555PsaTD2H_0VYg7IwbRs/s1600/music.jpg" height="200" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="199" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://artisanpiecesgallery.com/">artisanpiecesgallery.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Core Message:</span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhS2nGH6aFOJev7wkAnqqYsk56AsLRYMhecqrDeUyRQyDCVSm6kmD96649aAT0BBEiYdRqlaUM7ejhyoA3Vih8ozNXVfEDgzyqQIT13OaTdCwb0bnwK8UDKbVWgWr-3GoAE1yTAF2c5c/s1600/ee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhS2nGH6aFOJev7wkAnqqYsk56AsLRYMhecqrDeUyRQyDCVSm6kmD96649aAT0BBEiYdRqlaUM7ejhyoA3Vih8ozNXVfEDgzyqQIT13OaTdCwb0bnwK8UDKbVWgWr-3GoAE1yTAF2c5c/s1600/ee.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://google.in/">google.in</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>A note to all those of you who felt<span style="color: purple;"> 'C'mon, it wasn't <i>that </i>bad'</span></b>: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Request you to kindly watch Sathyan Anthikkad's </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>T.P Balagopalan M.A</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Sanmanassullavarkku Samadhanam</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Nadodikkaattu</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Pattanapravesham</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Sasneham</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Thalayanamanthram</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Sandesham</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Veendum Chila Veettukaryangal</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Manassinakkare</b></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">, etc. and think again.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">THE END.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/mammootty-in-best-actor-critical.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Mammootty in 'Best Actor' : A Critical Casting Analysis</span></a></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/08/wishing-anjali-menon-success-greater.html" target="_blank">Wishing Anjali Menon Success Greater Than Bangalore Days...</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/05/mammootty-in-comic-role.html" target="_blank">Mammootty in a Comic Role</a></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-35413019146706074852015-03-07T06:27:00.002-08:002015-09-07T02:05:03.312-07:00Two Tales and a Few Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgzk5gGQ3zfwBiN7rO8b8dnhhudEarOYTStjMWx6hIqjWx962OsGjYwmZw9BZzTyi01W_S8II8XPnvbSEQtAKkq8yAmWttubX9w4eCmhLuooXD9JZcjgLZL8fbCZ2y-mdwlFEXt3d8eM/s1600/woman-sunset-sunrise-silhouette-holding-sunball1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgzk5gGQ3zfwBiN7rO8b8dnhhudEarOYTStjMWx6hIqjWx962OsGjYwmZw9BZzTyi01W_S8II8XPnvbSEQtAKkq8yAmWttubX9w4eCmhLuooXD9JZcjgLZL8fbCZ2y-mdwlFEXt3d8eM/s1600/woman-sunset-sunrise-silhouette-holding-sunball1.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple; font-size: x-small;">Image Courtesy:<a href="https://joneseysunshine.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"> joneseysunshine.files.wordpress.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>T</b></span>oday, let me tell you an old story – two actually.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>hese are stories of two women – one whom I know personally,
and the other whom I am acquainted with only through a story. Both the stories
and the ladies are real, except for their names, which I wish to be discreet
about. Let’s call them Percy and Mercy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>ercy’s youth tells the tale of a girl madly in love with
her neighbor – a charming boy for the times. In all circles of the country side
where they lived, she was considered as one of the prettiest and one who was bestowed
with many a talents. Though there was hardly any reason to make a hue and cry
for the elders to permit a fruitful maturity to this relationship, they chose
to unfold a drama. But, the lovebirds stuck to their resolve and eventually it ended up in a fairy tale wedding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>P</b></span>ercy, on the other hand, hails from a family totally
orthodox by nature. Her marriage was arranged and she too settled into her
husband’s home like every new bride does - with hopes and dreams for a peaceful
life ahead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>E</b></span>xcept for the fact that both these ladies hail from two different states of the country, their life was similar. Both were home makers merged into a
joint family set up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>n course of their marriage, Mercy, the conqueror of her
dreams, got to deal with physical violence, a forced abortion, an unfaithful
and later bedridden husband, hurricane of financial issues and finally the life
of a widow. In her venture for a meaning and happiness in life, she taught
herself to be comfortable and content with the life she had. She was truly
grateful for the two beautiful children she was blessed with, which was after
all a fruit of her marriage. That was possibly the first entry in her book of
gratitude, which she subconsciously prepared in her pursuit of happiness. Needless
to say, she dealt with all the odds of life in a fashion, which is most
acceptable to the older generation and most often frowned upon by ours. But I
did notice that her serene beauty always remained with her. She always came out
happy and pretty – not a hair out of place - no matter what the situation was at
home. This, according to me, bears the fact that somewhere, somehow she always
resorted to finding peace with herself. She, I know, always lived for her
children and today she has successfully married off both her girls in the best
manner possible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>P</b></span>ercy’s story is more revolutionary, especially considering
the fact that this story is more than two decades old. She, I am told, had to
deal with an entire household, when she learned that she was pregnant. She was
asked to abort the child for it was a girl. When she couldn't take the pressure
anymore, she chose to leave and hoped to find shelter at her maiden home. Her
orthodox father was not very welcoming to this idea. He may have never turned
her out, but he never warmed up to her either. Her mother, thankfully, gave her
all the support that she could possibly give. Percy, I am sure, wouldn't have
had a concrete plan during this unfortunate episode. All she knew was that she wouldn't let any harm befall upon the life that was growing within her. So, during her pregnancy she applied
for whatever jobs her eyes fell on. When she was full term, she received an
interview card from one of the most prominent nationalized banks of our
country. During a period of trial, luck almost always takes a backseat. So
it should be no surprise that on the night that preceded her interview, she
went into labor. In the wee hours of the morning she gave birth to a beautiful
baby girl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">P</span></b>ercy lay in the hospital ward thinking of her life ahead. One can fathom the turmoil that would have ran through her, each time she looked at her baby. Yes, she protected the life this Universe bestowed to her care. But, how will she sustain the little one and herself? She
knew she had to make it to the interview simply as a self assurance that she
had reached some milestone in her search for a job. So, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">entrusting her baby to her mother, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">within a few hours of her child birth, Percy set off to give her interview directly from the hospital. .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">A</b>t the interview, a</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">fter a couple of questions, she was asked the reason behind her rather
pale and tired appearance. She simply admitted that she gave birth just a few hours back but didn't want to
miss out on the interview. I love the fact that she didn't resort to tears nor did she
relate any sad stories.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">T</b>he interview concluded with the<b style="font-size: x-large;"> </b>interviewer admitting that Percy didn't stand anywhere
close when compared to the others lined up for the interview, but appreciated
her spirit, will power and perseverance. The appreciation, thank goodness, was not limited to words alone for she got that job. I believe, to this day, she is a loyal employee at
that bank. Today, her daughter too is happily married off.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> do not wish to give an opinion on who is right or wrong
here. When I broadly look at both their lives, I see the struggle that both had
to put up with. One was submissive to the rules laid by society while the other
chose to break out of those shackles. I do not believe either of the paths adopted offered a
life of roses. The remarkable quality that calls for respect is that both just didn't give up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>y focus is to highlight the inner strength a woman is
gifted with. Living by the rules of the society is not any easier than breaking
out of it. Both serve lot of hidden monsters. In my opinion, Percy and Mercy have
displayed immense strength and I bow down to both of them for their courage to
face the life they dared to live.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">W</span>hat I'd like to highlight<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> </span>is that, it doesn't really
matter how you choose to brave through your adversities. <b>Remember, it is YOU and
ONLY YOU who knows what exactly you are dealing with</b> and each one of us has a
mind and brain exclusively designed for us. Weigh your options and stick to your choice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">H</span></b>owever, the damaging part is when a Percy advises a Mercy
to back out from the life she chooses to live, or vice versa. That can lead to
the most undesirable results. Women, ought to be each others’ source of
strength and support rather than be the worst criticizers of them all. Understand
and respect the Percys and the Mercys. Both are very much important to building a great
network. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>’ll stop on a lighter note. When I was dressing up for
office the other day, my son who awes at my jewelry, was insistent on adorning
my neck piece for a while. I most often succumb to such cute requests, but
having run out of time, I had to decline it. I simply told him that it was
girls’ stuff and that it was not meant for boys. Through the mirror, I could see my child in a dilemma of
sorts. After a moment of thought he queried if I were a
girl. Amused at his question, I admitted that I was. Next, he asked about himself. I pleasantly told
him that he was a boy and a rather smart one! That answer drew a dark cloud
over his face and before I knew he came pleading to permit him to be a girl!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">I</span>t's true.<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> </span>Whether it is jewelry, clothes, emotions, inner strength, or
a plethora of skills, women have so much at their disposal.Focus on your strength.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">E</span></b>xplore what you have and what you are - take pride that you are a woman.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Happy Woman’s Day!</b></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTljrEVZP8CkBXn55dr0kQFVTVgzwlNpkXx7aEARIyUtsNwIYujplUFyyCsS4mYNEAx4BmM6Y1wxzrQwvx8M0gVdEg1KdTQg8vrDxIvNhnzCmY9BiDpWi9TnDQDD547NKMXVR-l0qThw/s1600/women's%2Bday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTljrEVZP8CkBXn55dr0kQFVTVgzwlNpkXx7aEARIyUtsNwIYujplUFyyCsS4mYNEAx4BmM6Y1wxzrQwvx8M0gVdEg1KdTQg8vrDxIvNhnzCmY9BiDpWi9TnDQDD547NKMXVR-l0qThw/s1600/women's%2Bday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Image Courtesy: <a href="http://www.coroflot.com/saptarshidas/poster" target="_blank">coroflot.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/06/courtesyreminders-from-nirupama-rajeev.html" target="_blank"><b>Reminders from Nirupama Rajeev</b></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/05/revisiting-disney-frozen.html" target="_blank"><b>Revisiting Disney: Frozen</b></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/01/ammukutty-character-study.html" target="_blank">Ammukutty – A Character Study</a></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17.1200008392334px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/08/you-are-not-aone-believe-it-its-true.html" target="_blank"><b>You Are Not Alone. Believe It. It's True!</b></a></span></div>
</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-39163131232884674642015-02-17T03:56:00.001-08:002015-02-24T04:27:53.540-08:00Sloshed!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhS73Yjm7n5-haaBeys3a24B8zpsZ5xxKH-1eNpmbbENc0NduC-Fuhkx6YkKQRIn57X1hxKtTjVo64VJqvJY9fnNttD7R7_acFAf7ExF-siYmrYFnfp3W1MF9MZ-HPdMrizAx3mYbwMBM/s1600/cheers-desktop-background-529023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhS73Yjm7n5-haaBeys3a24B8zpsZ5xxKH-1eNpmbbENc0NduC-Fuhkx6YkKQRIn57X1hxKtTjVo64VJqvJY9fnNttD7R7_acFAf7ExF-siYmrYFnfp3W1MF9MZ-HPdMrizAx3mYbwMBM/s1600/cheers-desktop-background-529023.jpg" height="262" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b><i>Image Courtesy: http://1ms.net</i></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">A</span></b> couple of weeks back, I was in conversation with a group
and the topic was memories of getting drunk. It’s ironic how I contribute
during such conversations, owing to the fact that I have never tasted alcohol till date.
Thanks to my creative brain and fantastic college crowd, I've heard and seen
such amusing incidents, that I never had to taste it to know what it is to get
high. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">R</span></b>ewinding to the 1995-2000 era - many a conversations
around those cups of coffee, or beneath trees revealed so many funny
stories…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>S:</b> Yesterday night we went outdoors with a few bottles. We
went over these rocky hills and had a blast. It was fun.<br /><b>
I:</b> Don’t you always have fun over drinks? What's the difference whether you
have it indoors or outdoors?<br /><b>
S:</b> The experience is much better outdoors. It's sheer bliss - fresh air, drinks
and voices of nature!<br /><b>
I </b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>(slightly sarcastic)</b></span></i><b>:</b> Umm… the
fresh air and the rotten alcohol – nice combo!<br /><b>
S:</b> You won’t understand<br /><b>
I:</b> Umm... I’m sure. So, what happened yesterday? <br /><b>
S <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(chuckling)</span></i>:</b> On our way back, D
slipped and fell.<br /><b>
I <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(startled)</span></i>:</b> Goodness!<br /><b>
S:</b> Nothing to worry lady. We were drunk. It's normal and magical. It doesn't pain at that time.<br />
<br />
<i>My eyes were wide now, trying to
understand.</i><br />
<br /><b>
I:</b> The magic wears off the next day, I suppose?<br /><b>
S:</b> Yea, all magic is time-bound, isn't it? You must know what it is to get
drunk someday…<br /><b>
I:</b> To experience magic when you don't even realize it and then suffer all
that pain? No thanks! <br /><b>
S:</b> Listen to the rest. We were trying to get back to our room. Absolutely no
worries or concerns about when a bus would come that way. We were singing old
movie songs at the bus stand. Bindaas!<br />
<br />
<i>I was giggling thinking what a sight a set of three boys would have made, singing songs as loud as they could (I was sure), some time close to dawn.</i><br />
<br /><b>
S:</b> And then a bus stopped in front of us. When we were boarding the bus, I
noticed D carrying a banana plant.<br /><b>
I:</b> A BANANA PLANT? You mean a bunch of bananas?<br /><b>
S <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(</span></i></b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">laughing out loud</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">)</span></i>:</b> No da, an entire banana
plant! I am not sure from where he uprooted it. To top it, he insisted the
conductor to barter a ticket for a banana – one ticket for one banana.<br /><b>
Me <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(</span></i></b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">laughing out loud</span></i></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">)</span></i>:</b> Atrocious!<br /><b>
S <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(guffawing)</span></i>:</b> What's more hilarious is that we didn't find
anything wrong with his demand, at that point in time.<br /><b>
Me <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(laughing out loud)</span></i></b>: Why am I not
surprised!<br /><b>
S:</b> Finally when we had settled down in the bus, I was baffled that
my bike's tire, for some reason, was lying in that bus!?! I even told X about
it. As soon as he heard it, he gave the conductor a dirty look for stealing my spare
tire and began trying to lift it up for me.”<br /><b>
Me:</b> Gosh S! You mean the stepney wheel of the bus?!?<br /><b>
S:</b> Hahaha! Yes.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>hat was an anecdote stored in my brain by virtue of my ears.
Next, I’d like to tell you a few other instances – those that were stored by my eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>F</b></span>irst let’s go for the long sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">T</span></b>o give you a little geographical background, there was a
little road that lay behind the ladies’ hostel, which led to the boys’ hostel.
And so, it was a common sight for our drunken guy pals to dedicate songs to many
a pretty ladies residing in the girls’ hostel, on their way back to the boys’
hostel. It’s not just that our room faced that road; it was neither too low nor
too high. Which meant, spectators from within the hostel wouldn't have just a
hostel wall to see, neither was it a sight where they couldn't make out who the
guys in the crowd were! Needless to say, the spectator rush in our room was
pretty huge to witness these drunken dedications. On one such occasion, our drunken
pals decided to take a head count. They were amazed that there were too many
heads at the windows of our room. Comments from across the wall…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><b>
The handsome he:</b> Look at that! So many heads… Are we drunk or has their room
size increased?<br /><b>
The spectacled he:</b> Let’s take an attendance and check.<br /><b>
The discoverer he:</b> Halt guys! Look. There’s a guy in the girls’ hostel.<br /><b>
All the hes:</b> Where? Where? Where?<br /><b>
The discoverer he <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(pointing carefully)</span></i>:</b>
There. Look - a Sardarji!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">
O</span></b>ur tipsy pal sounded so convinced, that we girls ourselves looked around
wondering whom he was referring to. That’s when all of them, from down there,
cried in unison – “Oh yes! It’s true”, and they helped each other spot the
so-called Sardarji.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><b>
The pimple-faced he <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(courteously)</span></i>:</b> Excuse
me Sardarji. What is your name?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
There were others who got protective of their fair friends that they yelled
out, “You there, Sardarji! What are you doing in there at this time? <i>(Like it was ok for a guy to be in a girls' hostel at other times of the day)</i> Get down and
get out of that room immediately or else!”<br />
<br /><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
A</b></span>nd suddenly it dawned on me whom they were referring to. It was me – I had
done up my hair into a bun and set it on top of my head. My silhouette would
have probably made up for a perfect Sardar. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">W</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">e burst out laughing and dispersed from near the windows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
T</b></span>he comments from across the wall continued…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>N</b></span>ow for some visuals in close up – the one that I have
always termed ‘my favorite’!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">G</span></b>literatti! (I hope I remember the name right) The season when colleges were at their cultural
best! 1999 – the year when our college
was hosting the show. As the days neared, the
classes, the audi (college slang; short for auditorium), even the ground was a happening
place – day and night! However, our focus doesn't lie in any of those places. Follow me as I enter the gates of the ladies’ hostel in the dead of the night,
post practice sessions. Come in through the entrance grill, up the staircase,
and through the narrow passage way lined with gray and blue walls. I am
surprised at the locked door. Were the rest of my roomies already in? Did they lock me out?
That’s strange - it can't be. I keep knocking. A sixth sense says that the lights are switched off but
nobody’s asleep yet. And then, as a justification to my clairvoyance, I hear hushed
whispers. Slowly the door slightly opens, just enough for a head to pop out. It’s
A.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><b>
A <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(grins)</span></i>:</b> Shh...! B, there’s a secret in here. If you are not comfortable, can
you sleep in the other room tonight, please?<br /><b>
I:</b> What is the secret? I gently push the door open.<br />
<br />
<i>At first I only notice silhouettes of buckets
and a lot many inmates from neighboring rooms in there. There’s just a small
dingy bulb that’s switched on.</i><br />
<br /><b>
I:</b> Why you all so silent? Why are these buckets in the middle of the room?<br />
<br />
<i>They all just stare at me and then at a
table placed next to the door. I follow that stare. Bottles and a plastic
measuring glass! As my eyes get adjusted to the dingy light I see the buckets
filled with ice.</i><br />
<br />
<i>I figured what’s going on.</i><br />
<br /><b>
A, P, and all others:</b> B, you wanna go next door?<br /><b>
My mind, brain and soul shouted out to me in unison:</b> You kidding me? Leave a
party that’ll help photograph a lot of cute memories within the shutter of my
eyes and sleep next door? No way!<br /><b>
I <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(maintaining calm)</span></i>:</b> No, I’m fine.<br />
<br /><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">
I</span></b>t took a couple of minutes more for even the booze to convince them that I was
truly okay.<br />
<br /><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
I</b></span>n a few seconds I realized that R was kinda sloshed already. She kept pouring
vodka into the plastic measuring glass, which was already overflowing with the
intoxicating liquid; all the while wondering where all the markings had disappeared!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">D</span></b>on’t worry about any lost vodka. There was an angel </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">on her knees, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">right beside R, channelizing all that ‘precious’ water into herself via her cupped palms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
<br /><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
S</b></span>ome wanted to dance and pump up the volume of the music playing the background;
another was busy keeping caution every once in a while that everyone should be
quiet. There were a couple of them who pretended to be mature in the act, but
could hardly sit up straight.<br />
<br /><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">
T</span></b>hen there was our cutie pie Q seated on the bed, away from all this humdrum, talking
to the walls, “And under the stars, on the road, we - me and he - will walk and
drive away, away and away…” This poetry was going on and on, in a loop.<br />
<br /><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
I </b></span>am grateful for the company of one among that lot, P, who was in reality, not
drunk. The coffee mug (yes drinks were served in coffee mugs that night) in her
hand remained at the same level when I first walked in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
“Are you not drinking?”, I asked<br />
“Not really; just a few sips. What’s going on in here is too much fun to miss.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><i>I couldn't agree more as we laughed into
pillows lying nearby.</i><br />
<br /><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">
S</span></b>omewhere in between, there was a knock on the door. Those
firm knocks were an instant disclaimer that it was our warden. <br />
The two of us - one with hardly any and the other with nil alcohol intake - looked at each other, not
knowing what to do.<br />
<br /><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
R</b></span>, who was totally sloshed by then, was lying on the ground screaming,
“Let her…”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">
W</span></b>e don’t know what she intended to say because surprisingly the rest of the sloshed
gals tried pushing a dirty slipper into her mouth to hush her. I was amazed at
this act of unity and display of drunken sensibility to keep the room as quiet
as possible. One of them had even placed a hand over the lips of the tipsy
poet.<br />
<br /><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b>
W</b></span>ithin a few alarming seconds, our warden, probably dismissed any questions she
may have had because we sensed that she had left. I slowly opened the door just
to make sure she left and there goes a tipsy A like a rocket on her toes ahead of me. Thankfully, I didn't have to do a lot of work to get her back in. Back in the room, I was surprised at all the sloshed shes reprimanding
the super sloshed R for being so ‘senseless’.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><b style="background-color: white;">T</b></span>he night wrapped with R puking out a lot of the so-called ‘precious’ liquid.
Thanks to P, my hardly drunken amie, we were successful in pushing her under
the shower. It was hilarious to see R as she frowned under the shower,
remarking that that water was totally tasteless!<br />
<br /><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">
O</span></b>wing to a lot of booze theory bestowed upon me through movies, I suggested that I would get
some buttermilk from the kitchen, while P helped R into bed. Our hostel kitchen
was left open with the leftovers from dinner, if any, at the counter for anyone
who needed to snack at them in the middle of the night. And so, I sneaked down
into our mess hall to get a glass of buttermilk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">T</span></b>he best expression of the day
was when I asked our super sloshed gal to drink the buttermilk. She sniffed at the fresh curd garnished with ginger and coriander. Her
face then twisted into a frown and she remarked, “Whew! That smells really bad and rotten.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">C</span></b>ollege! The age, the ambiance and even the winds give you a
certain freedom. Irrespective of gender, you get so comfortable with the folks
around that you get ample space to clear so many things in your head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">T</span></b>hose who have tasted it, I know, would bet that the
participant’s experience would far exceed the one of a spectator. But fun is
fun, nevertheless.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;">T</span></b>hank you, all of you, for all these memories of
bottled poetry!</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #0000ee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><u><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.com/2013/06/moments-i-wished-id-photographed.html" target="_blank">Moments I Wish I'd Photographed</a></u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: #0000ee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><u><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.com/2014/04/a-death-visual.html" target="_blank">A Death Visual</a></u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.com/2011/04/maundy-thursday.html" target="_blank">Maundy Thursday</a></b></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-64276881558119317272014-12-08T04:10:00.002-08:002016-01-25T08:50:28.680-08:00Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Advises, advises and advises! The dictionary defines the word to be either an opinion or recommendation, a communication or an official notification. I'm sure most of you agree that in personal life, people expect advises to take the form of an opinion or recommendation. But is that so?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In retrospect, don't you think even in personal life, advises end up taking the form of an official notification?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I may be biased. However, based on what I have experienced, I thought I'd put together these three life lessons so that it is a reminder for me and possibly a red alert for at least some of you out there.</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><u>Small Small Things</u></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This was way back when I was little. Knowingly or unknowingly, I was made to believe that I was big. So big, that people around me couldn't understand why I couldn't analyze a lot of things. Why I reacted to everything? Why I had to be so sensitive? Today I am aware that I was only 10 or 12 or 20 when I kept hearing and sensing such things. I looked big because I had siblings far too smaller than me. So by and by I imbibed that there is something called ‘small small things’ which needed to be ignored.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although the hard way, I learned to do that – to gulp, ignore and let go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The end result? A growing thought within me that I am just not worth anything. Why? For a long time, I believed that I am just mediocre at everything I do. Whenever, lady luck or appreciation for good work came by, I felt the best thing to say was, “Oh! It's nothing" or "It’s not me, really.” I used to actually identify a Godfather or Godmother, who I felt deserved praise. That, according to me was, humility.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Of course, everybody out there is not like me. But, I am aware that a huge percentage thinks the way I did. They wonder why they expect a good word; they do yearn for it and at the nick of time shy away from it to build humility.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You stand with an award in hand and firmly believe that it was just because your mom chose that song for you. It's not your voice or your talent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But, that’s just one side of the story. The other, and probably the more damaging side is, when it comes to taking the blame. People like me are scared to stand up for ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For a long time I used to term 'standing up for yourselves' as a display of pride and ego. Ego, according to me was something we shouldn't have. The paradox is that all the while we let everybody else boost their ego at our expense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, we end up gulping (not erasing) the so called ‘small things’. Erasing is not an option here because nothing is resolved.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Like everything small, these small things also grow. And one day it turns too big to stay within. It comes out bad and nasty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And the same people who taught you to gulp ask you the most weird question ever – “Why did you wait for this to get so big? Couldn't you tell about this earlier?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Duh..?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's happened to you. Don’t pass it on. It's human to give what you get. KEEP A CHECK. You breed the most confused bunch that way. Teach, encourage and coach your children to ask you ‘Why?’ until they get an answer; no matter how authoritative you appear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;">Lesson one:</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"> Do not ignore small things and do not teach your children to do that.</span></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><u>In Touch with God</u></span></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><i>A recent conversation…</i></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>“Finally after all the hardships in life, now that I am
settled, I get this hurt spine. But I am not sad. It’s just God’s way of
telling me to keep in touch.”</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have grown up hearing this. But goodness gracious me! That’s
the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard. Yes, I have also read all those
forwards about the man at the construction site who looked up only when a stone
was thrown at him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But people! Do you even know what your face looks like when
you look up at someone who has just stoned you? Don’t you realize that the only
way that frown disappears is when the person who flung that stone at you
apologized?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am sorry. I refuse to believe that God works that way.
Life is a circle. There are good and bad times in all aspects of life. I
believe, it just makes you cry all the more if you think the Savior you cling
on to for protection does nasty things to keep you focused on him/her. How silly!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Personally I pray, when I am at peace. I love thanking and hate blaming and going to war with a Being I love.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;">It’s completely sane to be pious. But don’t draw the picture of a God who waits to give you trouble. Atheists fare far higher then. No face is better than a horrid face.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 15.6933336257935px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;">Lesson two:</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"> Believe in the love of God than His/Her wrath.
Teach your children to face reality, rather than fearing and escaping punishments.</span></b></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
</div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You are too small to decide</span></b></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<u><b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My life went through a huge turmoil with this piece of
advice. I accept that at the age of 15 you have no clue how your life's going
to turn out, But excuse me – nobody can give you that guarantee card, can they? If there is a
system designed by human beings that 15 is the first stage where you can choose
which way you want to steer your academics, they would have done all the logic
analysis before arriving at that age.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Do not scare the hell out of your children just so that they choose
something that meets your standards. Yes, all parents want the best for their
children. It's just that we overlook what they need the most – confidence in
expressing and going by their own choice. Assuring that we will be with them no matter what happens.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Many a time I have heard people say, "you will feel so now
but you will regret later."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Why? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is it bad to regret?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Is it a nightmare to learn
to recoup?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Will the world be a dead end for them? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Most importantly - will it always have to end up that way just because your experience or gut feel says so?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let's face it – it's not just about their good. It's an
equal measure, and sometimes more, of our image too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just don’t do it. Don't kill a child's decision making ability at its genesis.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And if the child is really persistent, it's common to say, "Fine! Do as you please."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I can't express how freaking lonely that statement makes you feel at the age of 15 or 17.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Lesson three: Parents and just privileged care
takers. Every individual is special and unique. Respect that!</b></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let me assure you that I have no ill feelings towards my parents. I love them with all of my heart. Every parenting goes through a few flaws. However, I am just using this space to reiterate NOT to repeat these.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As a last note. It's ok to ask forgiveness to your child. Accept your flaws.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Life ain't perfect. But, build perfect bridges. Keeps the journey smooth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3234962122594424690#editor/target=post;postID=5508474418842971923;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=5;src=postname" target="_blank"><b>You Are Not Alone. Believe It. It's True!</b></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3234962122594424690#editor/target=post;postID=6802092473560387049;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=17;src=postname" target="_blank">Reminders from Nirupama Rajeev</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3234962122594424690#editor/target=post;postID=3491553540892691935;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=27;src=postname" target="_blank">A Death Visual</a></b></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-25463596296161218122014-09-29T03:04:00.005-07:002015-04-10T00:06:47.236-07:00Maleficent: Evil Has Never Been This Good<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKDu8QxFNNPs6m_Ty3bN8MmMT0UgsTTaKuKhNWdy-jHik8KkqESPOsXdKkOfKrFYF6tu7lnbQOjHdJMMopuEzAMqy1DZYeWHkMXfIDKxdSXBsnNDCSuFKatNUxCIUEsojla6KrKJ2nBg/s1600/maleficent531f6917afb22-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMKDu8QxFNNPs6m_Ty3bN8MmMT0UgsTTaKuKhNWdy-jHik8KkqESPOsXdKkOfKrFYF6tu7lnbQOjHdJMMopuEzAMqy1DZYeWHkMXfIDKxdSXBsnNDCSuFKatNUxCIUEsojla6KrKJ2nBg/s1600/maleficent531f6917afb22-1.jpg" height="337" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://moviefone.com/">moviefone.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>fter a break of four years, a mother of six children
decides to make a comeback as Maleficent - the legendary villain, who scared
children all over the world. Wow!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span>hen I first saw the promotions, I wondered why Disney chose
to cast Angelina Jolie as Maleficent.
Not that I ever doubted her acting caliber – the lady can pull off any
kind of role. But yes, I still did wonder. And so I watched the movie. Trust
me, nobody else would have looked so perfect and at ease with those horns,
heels and gown train.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he action sequences, the deep voice and definitely the
looks – she fitted them all. Now, those of you who haven’t watched the movie
would wonder why it would be necessary for Maleficent to look good. My answer
would be to stop thinking about the image, which Grimm’s fairy tale or Disney’s
1959 cartoon, has carved into your brain and watch this movie, for it has so
much more to offer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> super liked the narrative methodology adopted for this
movie – more so because it’s the villain’s point of view but not narrated by
her. According to me, this aspect makes the story even more believable. Hats
off to the Disney team! So what if the subject is old? They will always have
something new to offer. With Maleficent, it’s like they have dived into the age
old fairy tale, manicured the rough edges and filled in so many blanks that we
never even bothered to notice. Linda Woolverton has done a magnificent work
with the script. You get hooked on to the screen from the very first narrative
script, “Let us tell an old story anew and see how well you know it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>aleficent is among the few villains who isn't related
to the protagonist of the story. Her attire and form is very unique. In fact,
she is probably the only villain who is termed as a fairy and not a witch. I
love the way all these factors have been utilized to add more cream to the
story.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span>iki says if Angelina refused the role, the producers
probably wouldn't have made Maleficent. Oh my! I so completely agree with
them. I wonder how she has deftly managed to appear calm and menacing at the same
time. She looks drop dead gorgeous in this fairy tale; and not once, when the
script demands it, does that virtue stop her from making your heart pound with
fear. Jolie, I read, practiced telling
tales to her children in different voices, before she froze on the voice she
would give Maleficent. I am sure that’s among the least of the veteran’s home works
for the role, because I am not exaggerating it one bit when I say that, she has nailed it!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>f I haven’t read it wrong, one of the main reasons for
Disney to cast Vivianne Jolie-Pitt, Angie's daughter, was because she would
be the only one who wouldn't get scared of her despite her scary look for the
movie. Having said that, I congratulate Angelina and Brad for training their
daughter and a tight hug to the little one who made it through. Had it been my
son, the darling would have strictly asked me to remove those horns and the
bewitching gown; be it on the set, on screen or in the house. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">I</b>t's hard to believe that this is Robert Stromberg's directorial debut. What an awesome job! I loved the amount of detailing that has gone into the movie.
This is especially true when it comes to the raven, Diaval, Maleficent's
sidekick. I was awed at the plumed wolf, horse and dragon. The land of the moors
is a spectacular sight. We just end up wishing we had such wonderful creatures
on earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>n the entire movie, I frowned at King Stefan’s accent
changing at least three times, if not more. It looked like he kept travelling
around the world during the making of the movie, aiming at picking accents for
his role, that he got confused which one he really liked. Also, according to me, in this version of the tale, King Stefan handing over Aurora to the fairies to bring her up until she turns 16, is not very convincing. Besides these, I enjoyed pretty much
everything else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he best part about this fantasy flick is that, though it
attempts in telling a whole new version, it doesn't skip any key
points - the wall of thorns, the dragon, the raven, etc. - everything’s there. All of it just has a different story to tell. Another aspect that keeps me
vouching for Disney’s creations is that they re-image their own version of Grimm’s
fairy tales, but they ensure they don’t kill the predecessor. The cartoon is still
good and has enough of detailing that a cartoon demands. The movie has more detailing
because adults need more of it. Even someone who is not very familiar with fairy
tales, but enjoys animations, wouldn't need an SME while watching the movie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ll this and a whooping $700+ million collection worldwide – well,
well, well; what a grand celebration!?!</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-91456121232554372872014-09-19T19:23:00.001-07:002014-09-23T10:12:43.689-07:00Saving Mr. Banks: A Tale of Two Promises<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zFRfajHJr20m4B8lM63co2y9k5zsomWKkdvhw3ReSG38EKRxqW17hVjHsvNOR-a5JeNWkjk-DHEuTLT40z1muhVkd-tVsxF2TkEmFJhG_3ETMOeeBpr9HBOtqa__1XkOie3tKfEen4k/s1600/saving+mr+banks+red+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zFRfajHJr20m4B8lM63co2y9k5zsomWKkdvhw3ReSG38EKRxqW17hVjHsvNOR-a5JeNWkjk-DHEuTLT40z1muhVkd-tVsxF2TkEmFJhG_3ETMOeeBpr9HBOtqa__1XkOie3tKfEen4k/s1600/saving+mr+banks+red+poster.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><b>Courtesy: <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/">4.bp.blogspot.com</a>/<a href="http://www.google.com/" target="_blank">google</a></b></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">H</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">ere I was, hunting for the right picture that
would go with the Walt Disney quote, which I planned on featuring as a<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Thought for the Day</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>at office the other day; when I
stumbled upon a slightly different looking image of his. 'Who was that I just
saw?', I asked myself as I scrolled up struggling through the enormous number
of Walt Disney images that were displayed on my computer screen. And there is
was! Tom Hanks looking so much like Walt. The next moment my fingers
impatiently typed out 'Tom Hanks as Walt Disney?" Yes, the question mark
was in there too. Let's say I was thinking out loud online. In a split of a
second, dear ol' Prof. Google told me that the movie was<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>Saving Mr. Banks</b>. Forgive my
ignorance. But, I never knew that Mr. Disney's biography made to the
theaters, end of last year. I am such a huge fan of
Mr. Walt Disney, that I felt ashamed and thrilled at the same time. But, what
was this name - Saving Mr. Banks?</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">T</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">hat evening, the movie made it to my
hard disk; and, in the silence of the night, I watched it. One of the best
things I love about any story - be it a movie, a book, or a play - is when it has the
power to connect with the title. The realization sends goose bumps all over me
and leaves a lasting impression. Saving Mr. Banks, I must say, is an excellent
title. Not only does it suit the content of the film, but it also radiates
innocence, which has always been the very hallmark of Walt Disney's creations -
très parfait!</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">S</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">aving Mr. Banks is not exactly a
biopic, like what I had assumed; it is about how the hallmark musical of the
60s, Mary Poppins, took sail. 22 years of perseverance to realize
a dream and keep a promise is surely optimism at its best, isn't it? Well, the
movie is not just about perseverance, it speaks about the complex relationship
between Mr. Disney and Mrs Pamela.L.Travers, the author of the book called
Mary Poppins; the adaptation of which resulted in the movie. Each of these main
characters has been sketched out so well that my heart went out to both of
them. That's one more story that taught me to let go, but with an
added edge - it made me understand forgiveness for self-liberation.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">I</span></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">hear that a lot of facts have been twisted for the movie. I did
feel slightly tricked when I read that. Thankfully that doesn't affect the
quality of the movie. In its entirety, this motion picture has been supremely
crafted. Moreover, you get witty dialogues, humorous expressions, a book
review, a movie review, the making of a film and the haunting pasts of the main
characters - all well-packed into 2 hours with not a moment of boredom.
According to me, that is certainly a package worth a lot of applause.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">I</span></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">love so many moments in the movie - The<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Let's Go Fly a Kite</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>scene is most certainly one of my
dearest. The sequences between the characters Ralph and Mrs. Travers is also
something that stirred me up positively. The list would be horribly incomplete
if I missed writing about the scene shared by Walt and Pamela over tea and
whisky in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana;">London</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> - that scene is
awfully warm and the performances are remarkable.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">I</span></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">loved everybody in this movie. They all looked and talked
so much like what you imagine them to be. The costumes, the mannerisms -
everything! From Emma Thompson and Tom Hanks to Michael Swinehart, who appears
in just one scene, everybody deserves a pat for giving their best shot. The
blend of humor and tension, all at the same time, is so perfectly executed. The
film left me wishing for so many things - sitting and having long talks with
Ralph, giving Pamela a tight bear hug, singing and dancing with the </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Sherman</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> brothers and eating a
share of those goodies in the rehearsal room. Saving Mr. Banks rekindled my
wish to work for Walt Disney Productions - wish they flew down from Mumbai and
took up some office space in Bangalore.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">P</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">eople who know me know that I am a
die-hard fan of Mr. Walt Disney. The more I read about him, the more I like him -
so much more beyond his works. Of course he had flaws, but who doesn't? According
to me, he is an inspiring personality; I read that he was an amazing husband
and a loving father. On the outward, in my opinion, I don't think I would have
ever thought of Tom Hanks playing the role of Walt. The features just don't
sync. But, the warmth and softness in the eyes, the dialogue
delivery and the body language - trust Tom Hanks to blow life into the character at hand with finesse! Saving Mr. Banks has gotten me falling in love with Walt Disney and Tom
Hanks all over again.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">"T</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">hat's what we story
tellers do. We restore order with imagination. We instill hope again and again
and again."</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">- <b>Walt Disney</b></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18pt;">H</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">ope. That's what keeps us going, isn't
it? Thank you, Walt Disney, for instilling all that hope, for giving so many options for parents to spend time with their children, and for reinforcing the courage to realize one's dreams. Thank you for being such an inspiration.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-86258859795993476082014-08-22T05:54:00.001-07:002014-08-22T08:26:16.966-07:00Back to School: The Arabic Classes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QrkYmUWS2tsY1NA3Z4GnmKlY_X4ZFWp0amKwhwD4XVKxG-H7y3DG3qW4ejnhrToyRQovMCSKpeaDzom1a0pcx5PsUSs1OhRjvuHuN2nVQkKRk-Jh0gFezV2cOzm4-HeI29cWTX39xXw/s1600/arabic_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QrkYmUWS2tsY1NA3Z4GnmKlY_X4ZFWp0amKwhwD4XVKxG-H7y3DG3qW4ejnhrToyRQovMCSKpeaDzom1a0pcx5PsUSs1OhRjvuHuN2nVQkKRk-Jh0gFezV2cOzm4-HeI29cWTX39xXw/s1600/arabic_main.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Courtesy: <a href="http://news.nick.com/">news.nick.com</a></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>O</b></span>f all the teachers in school, the ones we maintained a lot
of distance from were probably the Arabic teachers. Today, I understand that
this was vice versa too, mainly because of the language barrier. Probably
because of the same reason, Arabic teachers were looked up to with fear and
reverence. Besides these emotions, memories around them were also fashion
oriented. Among students, they were considered as teachers of class when it
came to dressing up. The pearl studded abhayas, the tops, the skirts, the
heels, the long and slim figures, and the flawless complexion, the light make
up – they carried themselves amazingly well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> personally loved my Arabic classes. The lessons were not
more than a page or a page and a half and the grammar was easy. Above all, everything
about the language was different. I am of the opinion that the Arabic alphabets
are beautiful and artistic in nature and it felt unique writing something from
right to left, rather than the other way round. When all the other classes
demanded 200 page notebooks, Arabic classes demanded two notebooks, one a 400
page one for class work and homework and a 200 page one for dictations. I loved
Arabic examinations too. The papers were quite a replica of your notebook.
Sometimes the questions even came in the same order as it was in our notebook.
Since I am also a fan of people who do things differently, I loved it when once;
an Arabic teacher taught us how to sing ‘Sanahal wa yadami’ (forgive me if this
is mondegreen) instead ‘Happy Birthday to you’. So, from that day on, all the
birthday girls got two musical wishes! In fact, I was wishful that my birthday
falls on a day when we had Arabic classes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">M</span></b>ost Arabic teachers were known for their punishments and
prizes. While punishments were not unique to them, prizes definitely were! Many
of our Arabic teachers declared surprise prizes for girls who scored the
highest marks in the language in the final exams. I also remember once, when
there were 5 of us who scored a full fifty on fifty and the teacher had just
one story book to give out. Since she had already declared the gift, she couldn't alter that. So she took out four other items and kept them on the table, there
were two fancy rulers and two timetable cards that looked awfully cute. She
pulled out chits to give away the prizes. I do not know about the rest, but I kept
my fingers crossed for either the ruler or the timetable card because a standard
IV student would have read Hansel Gretel at least a few hundred times already.
Destiny got me one of the timetable cards – a cartoon-studded one, which I
preserved like a treasure for a very long time…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> have never got punished; at least not by Arabic teachers.
This was definitely not because I was the perfect student; let’s say I was good
at self help. Dictation tests used to keep happening once in two weeks or so.
There was no set frequency for these. It was the teacher’s choice – at least
that’s how we understood it. They used to let us know a day or two in advance
and we came prepared. Prepared I always was, but there was something more that
we needed to keep in mind when it came to Arabic dictation tests. Unlike other
subjects, there was a dedicated book for dictation tests. I was, as most of you
know, forgetful. As a result, the dictation book rarely made it to my school
bag. When the teacher called out for students who had forgotten their dictation
book, I used to keep rummaging my school bag wondering what to do. My self help
pranks almost always won over Gandhian doctrines. The voice in my head
whispered, “Any book would do since Arabic is written the other way round.” So,
I used to give in to me inner call and turn around another 200 page notebook
for the dictation test. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>t was always a 10 on 10, but rarely on the right book. Yes,
I used to religiously cut-paste these pages once I got back home…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>here's another incident that I will never forget as long as
I am in my right senses. This one’s more of a confession…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>here was this teacher who had extraordinarily huge eyes.
Today, I know that that was the effect of extremely thick glasses that she
required. Back then, she held quite a scary reputation among students. "She's
good but she can scold badly", was the general rumor. She wasn't our regular
teacher. But that year (if I am not wrong, I believe this was in standard
VIII), our gang decided to take up Arabic tuition, which was for one hour
after school hours. Today, I don’t remember why we decided to go for tuition,
but we did. Classes were good and as time passed I realized that for some reason
unknown to me, she had taken a liking towards me. My peers considered me lucky.
But, only I knew the truth. I definitely loved her too, however, that didn't stop me from being any less scared of her. My love for her reflected in my
Arabic tuition book - they were extremely well kept.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">B</span></b>ut one day, forgetful that I was, I forgot to carry my
Arabic tuition book. I was already scared what I would do, when she walked in
and declared that she was ill and couldn't take class because of which she
would correct our notebooks. We had to go to her in person one by one to get
our notes corrected. <i>(Gulp!) </i>I felt
like a rat in a trap, desperately trying to free itself. The envy of the peers,
the extra liking she had for me, everything seemed to weigh far too much. I realized
that I had no other choice but to go and confess. But the devil dressed up in
self help reminded me of something my friend, N, who was one of her regular
students, once told me. "You know what? Our Arabic teacher, that teacher who
has those big eyes… she can’t see. She has big eyes because of big spectacles,
but she can’t see." I believed those words superficially only because she was one
of my closest friends. To this day, I can’t believe that I decided to take the
risk pinning my hopes on her words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> took another book, turned it around and scribbled all over
the pages, making it look similar to Arabic. None of it was Arabic, it was no language;
it was plain scribbles. I scribbled up until it was my turn. I decided that I
would confess if she caught me. Till the time, I placed the book open in front
of her, the voices in me debated. The devil won. I went with the lie. If the
phrase, eyes popped out, can be literally true, mine should have popped out at
that moment. She ticked off each page, continuously exclaiming what a good
student I was!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">D</span></b>on’t ask me how she managed test papers or exam papers. May
be the management knew and she was excused from such tasks. An array of maybes,
oh my gods, thank gods slipped through my mind during those 5 minutes that I
was standing next to her…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>f you all do not believe this part of my post, I wouldn't be
surprised. It took me a long time to gulp it myself. I remember having shared
this incident only to N, because she knew that the teacher was low on vision. "I
am sorry N, I didn't believe you completely when you told me. But it’s true – teacher
can’t see”, I remember telling her. I have never bragged about this incident;
never felt like it. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dear Miss,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In my thoughts, I have always pictured coming to you in privacy to confess that I forgot my book that day.
I am ashamed that I tricked you. My action was the outcome of a combination of
cowardice and fears – fear of punishment; fear that I’d be a laughing stock,
fear that I may lose the fondness you had for me.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My love for you grew
into admiration after I realized that you are low on vision. Despite the
handicap, you carried yourself so well. I still remember when you once walked
in dressed up in all violet. What a beautiful skirt and top that was! Everything
about you was beautiful except your eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As an adult, I realize
what a beautiful and powerful individual you were to carry on with life so
boldly with those pair of eyes. They made you even more wonderful.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you for the
silent lesson I learnt from you and do forgive me.”</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Missed any of the old posts of this series?<br />Read them now:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/08/back-to-school-biscuit-dance-and.html" target="_blank"><i><b>Back to School - the Biscuit, the Dance and the Sketches</b></i></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/back-to-school-kindergartener-careless.html" target="_blank"><b><i>Back to School – the Kindergartner, the Careless Child, the Morning Jogs and the Dear ol’ Bus</i></b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/back-to-school-early-morning-chorus.html" target="_blank"><b><i>Back to School – the Early Morning Chorus, the Mighty Rains, the Creaky Cabins, and the Game of Hide and Seek</i></b></a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-55084744188429719232014-08-15T01:13:00.000-07:002014-09-30T09:04:38.462-07:00You Are Not Alone. Believe It. It's True!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MF-Q4WtKRhQlyGu4mr5dqxYCPuQguoxX08FO6ElZ3m7_uh1HoWu24UYLijHeNcuLqbH5LbdtN6FuoSu-WYlAe2ATECPt3D46k__kyQigKZR-rnxLUb3rl_iwyWIVIylQiVyttnnbjCQ/s1600/robin-williams-quotes-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MF-Q4WtKRhQlyGu4mr5dqxYCPuQguoxX08FO6ElZ3m7_uh1HoWu24UYLijHeNcuLqbH5LbdtN6FuoSu-WYlAe2ATECPt3D46k__kyQigKZR-rnxLUb3rl_iwyWIVIylQiVyttnnbjCQ/s1600/robin-williams-quotes-1.jpg" height="261" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>L</b></span>ike most of you all out there, it was a shocking moment for me when the news about Robin Williams' sad demise was broken out to me. An actor so brilliantly entertaining on screen, so dearly funny; decided to end it all because he just couldn't bid adios to depression. Honestly, I felt ungrateful. He has made me smile and laugh too many times; and many a times I have come out of horrible moods seeing him on screen. The thought that nothing on this earth could talk him out of such a tragedy pains me. The fact that he was always open about his depression and has never stacked it up within him, worries me...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>his post goes out to all those who feel terribly lost most of the time in their current lives, to those of you who experience loneliness in phases and the entire crowd out there who knowingly or unknowingly contribute to this dreadful mental struggle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">F</span></b>irst of all, depression, according to me, is not something you are born with. It is a state that you get into when you keep hoping for the best and almost in all eventualities reality fails to show a bright picture. Please <i>please</i> talk it out as immediately as you can. You may not be in a position to chuck it all and walk away. But thrashing it all out from within acts like panacea for survival. Don't keep the thoughts running long in your head. No, it's not a permanent solution, but you can use this temporary solution as many times as you want. It is important for you to realize that you are not alone. You look disappointed when you look for warmth from the people who have hurt you. It's time you know that they are beneath you at that moment. It's time for you to look up or beside you. There are people who will understand. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Believe me, having to know that there is somebody out there who understands and cares the way you expect, is a huge relief.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he moment you start opening up, when those tears flow out, when you hear about the good things that make you <i>you</i>; is a reminder of the zillion other things life's worth living for. Get back on track each time you fall out. When you feel or are made to feel that you are not worth any more than the morning cup of coffee you offer, or the money you bring in; it's time to change your zone. Go for a walk or a drive, take a shower, plug in those ear plugs and listen to your favorite music and most importantly, like I said before, talk it out with some who can understand your point of view without a lot of explanation. Focus on what you want to get out of life. It's great to look out for yourself and protect yourself. Being selfless is considered to be a great virtue. It is dictated by a society who hasn't taken the pains to think before dictating the terms. The sad truth is in the eventuality when you may shout out for help, you realize that you receive very little empathy. You end up with just heaps of moral studies classes - another set of dictated terms and conditions. So, my dear friends, leave selflessness for the divine and look out for yourself. Love others as you love yourself - <i>only</i> as you love <i>yourself</i>. If you don't consider your likes, then who will?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>here is absolutely no need to please people who haven't understood you or fails to appreciate your virtues after long years of association with you. There is no space for guilt here, because you can only give what you get. Learn to stand up for yourself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> remember a couple in the neighborhood who used to have constant fights, when I was a child. I remember witnessing conversations, within my household, around why the lady of that house couldn't end the fight by simply keeping quiet and giving up. It takes two hands to clap, etc. If you witness any such situations, cease yourself from being judgmental. It's OK not to understand what got them there; in that case, be thankful that you are not in that zone. Nobody signs up to get there. Learn to feel empathetic towards them. Also, being open and loud about emotions is not a signature of insanity. Keep away from doing your bit to push them towards that condition. This quote's for you:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"B</b></span>e kind. For everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>unna Bhai's <i>jadu ki jhappi</i> may not be feasible all the time. It's more important to change your mindset. What your parents may have commented and talked about was a good 30 years back (maybe even more). The world has changed, situations have changed, people have changed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>nd finally, a note to all those who knowingly or unknowingly contribute towards this unhappiness. Incompatibility is not anything new to this universe. Just because you don't understand somebody or agree with their views, doesn't warrant you to put them down and make them feel low. It is downright nasty to dishearten somebody just to get your way. Learn to make life comfortable by making it comfortable for others too. In the event that you are still getting what you want, even if you treat the people in your life like trash, don't expect perks like smiles, hearty conversations, lots of love, hugs, etc. The package you get depends on how much you are willing to pay. This quote I stumbled upon is for folks like you:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"N</b></span>ever push a loyal person to the point where they no longer care."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>y adieu to Robin Williams:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Y</b></span>our life has been a great lesson. Your quotes are great sources of inspiration. Your work has and will always continue to instill happiness, brush aside bad moods, plant smiles and make people laugh. You have even left this world leaving a lesson - the need for human compassion. I hope wholeheartedly that you have found peace, wherever you may be now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Inspired form <a href="http://not-your-average-mom.com/please-unload-your-fus-today/">not-your-average-mom.com</a></b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/the-dark-one.html" target="_blank"><b>The Dark One</b></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2011/04/maundy-thursday.html" target="_blank"><b>Maundy Thursday</b></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/06/moments-i-wished-id-photographed.html" target="_blank"><b>Moments I Wish I'd Photographed</b></a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-7850434271072024232014-08-09T07:41:00.005-07:002014-09-23T10:14:16.251-07:00Wishing Anjali Menon Success Greater Than Bangalore Days...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMbVt6_V5fZimJUjT5656fYyFCoie4OCa45W8q2pveUu2gFyb64aWL3zbmJMW1OBWIkYacKGvIHAmjlXh9axzUWWx_P9qgGYrnb-kEcTVMuhrdTQXFC3npcpb-JiN4vjqyQSCMH4djP0/s1600/malayalam-movie-banglore-days-poster-dulquer-salmaan-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMbVt6_V5fZimJUjT5656fYyFCoie4OCa45W8q2pveUu2gFyb64aWL3zbmJMW1OBWIkYacKGvIHAmjlXh9axzUWWx_P9qgGYrnb-kEcTVMuhrdTQXFC3npcpb-JiN4vjqyQSCMH4djP0/s1600/malayalam-movie-banglore-days-poster-dulquer-salmaan-12.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://muyals.com/">muyals.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">H</span></b>ere I am trying to write about Anjali Menon’s latest flick,
Bangalore Days; thinking what do I write? What is there that nobody knows? In
fact, owing to the very many excuses that my life is tagged to at present, I am
probably among the last of the malayalee crowd to have seen the movie. There
are people who have called me, singing in their praises and enquiring why I
haven’t written about it yet. And most of them were shocked to realize that I
hadn’t even watched it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">E</span></b>very dog has a day and last weekend my bone came by in the
form of a movie ticket to watch the much celebrated Bangalore Days. I must say,
the first impression was a <i>‘whoa!’</i>
blended with some amount of shame. I am settled in <st1:city>Bangalore</st1:city>
and I was surprised to notice that majority in the hall comprised of the local
Kannada crowd. I think that explains both of the above expressions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>N</b></span>ow, coming back to what do I write; I think I’ll start with
the director of the movie – Ms. Anjali Menon…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>f somebody were to ask me if I knew who Ms. Anjali Menon
was , I’d say, “Well, although I haven’t met her and do not know her
personally, I know her through her movies and her interviews. And from what I
have seen and heard of her, I definitely wish I knew her personally, because
that is how warm she comes out to be.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>njali <i>(if I may call you by your first name)</i> – this one
comes as a heart-felt opinion of your Bangalore Days. Ideally, I’d prefer doing
this over a coffee table with propped up cushions; but since that’s not
possible, I’m using my blog.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>H</b></span>onestly, Bangalore Days made me laugh and giggle. I did feel
light and nice after seeing the movie. Even though I am part of a world of
close-knit cousins, I got envious of the trio in your movie. The on-screen
chemistry between them is awesome. In an interview with <i>manorama online</i>, I read
about how you got Nazria, Dulqar and Nivin to spend time with each other long
before the filming of the movie. That homework did really pay off. I did feel
that Aju and Kuttan are the kind of brothers that any girl would be lucky to
have. I am also glad that you chose portraying cousins, because there is no set
expectation from cousins. It is a relationship that needs nurturing and I am
aware that not everybody is lucky to have a strong cousin network.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>N</b></span>ow let me tell you what I what I loved about the
movie. Fahad has been on my fav list ever since he made a come back in Kerala
Café. I am sure he has pulled off Shivdas according to your expectations. It
was great to see Nitya Menen on screen after quite a while now. She is such a
cool breeze. I loved Sarah too, especially her voice. It was light and silky
and yet resonant enough for a radio jockey. I also liked the way you used a
radio jockey to introduce <st1:city>Bangalore</st1:city>
city and occasionally to propel the movie forward. According to me, that was a
lovely idea and it blends well with <st1:city>Bangalore</st1:city>
city. Dulqar, oh my God, is gifted with such a fantastic screen presence. Hope
it remains that way. Although, I am almost partial towards Fahad, my eyes found
its way to Dulqar in combination scenes! I firmly believe that my date also
shares the same opinion. Although his eyes were on me throughout the movie,
Dulqar's voice would make his head turn towards the screen. Yes, my
two-year-old is a great Dulqar fan. I also heard that the entire bike idea was
a change in the script. You would be pleased to hear that those bikes fetched
Dulqar a huge amount of brownie points from my little boy. Needless to say, I
am eternally grateful for those bikes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> enjoy movies and when I come out happy, I feel nice. On
our drive back home, there were a couple of Kuttan's expressions that made my
friends and I to laugh out loud. We also talked about how ridiculous it was for
people to think that this movie has anything to do with feminism.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>hough we had conversations about the movie, I noticed
however, that it didn't last long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>fter the initial euphoria, when my head began gathering
points to write out a review, I began catching certain loose ends that I wished
were tied out. Now, I’m really missing the coffee table and the welcome
distraction a few bites of goodies can offer…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">I</span>'d start by doing a character study…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>D</b></span>ivya (Kunju), in my understanding</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> is basically a </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nice</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> <i>girl</i>
personality. She is somebody who would churn it out too many times in her head
before she hurts anyone. I can understand giving in to the idea of marriage;
feeling excited about it clubbed with the fact that she’ll be in </span><st1:city style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bangalore,</st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
at regular intervals. However, with the limited outspokenness that she has, I
wonder why she didn't make it clear that she wants to study post marriage,
especially when she had the opportunity when she met Shivdas for the first time. OK, we’ll let that pass. They get married and she is dealing with someone who
doesn't even bother to smile at her as much as he did when they first met – no
conversations, no physical bonding; he doesn't even want her to cook for him or
any of those chores for that matter. Acceptable. But, no silent tears? No
effort from her end to talk this out? I fail to understand why she waited for him
to leave the city, to hang out with her cousins. I gather, a practical approach
would be that she would have kept seeking permission which gradually would have
matured into announcements that she would be going out. Correct me if I am
wrong; but in my opinion, she was intended to be portrayed as realistic but ends
up being far too idealistic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">K</span></b>uttan, I perceive, is a typical character. Even though, the
looks, talks, mind works and mannerisms suit the likes of a 10<sup>th</sup>
standard kid, I accept that. There are people like that. I have met such people
and know such people. Even if I wouldn't have, the world is full of different
kinds of people. It’s fine to define a typical character. But, the <i>antakshari</i> part was way too much for
me to gulp! No man of that age would speak of that as an achievement. Sarcasm
or even a casual statement would have sufficed to give it a realistic tone,
don’t you feel?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> am glad how things turned out eventually for Shivdas and
Divya. But what kind of overwhelming moment would have pushed a guy like him
towards the idea of getting into an arranged marriage? I would have understood
a rebound love affair or an eventuality as a result of a one night stand - but
an arranged marriage? I am not of the opinion that only girls end up getting
pushed by the family. But in Shiva’s case, he’s not even living with his
parents. They are not even anywhere in his near vicinity. Clubbed with that
fact, a guy with his approach to life, would do great many things to ward off
such an event, don’t you think? So eventually, even if things ended up this
way, don’t you feel you owed the script a flash back of some form; if not
initially, at least when talks of a break up were on the roll?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>t was on purpose that I chose not to highlight Meenakshi. I don't know how many air hostesses would remember a passenger that had taken a flight in the past. The scenes around her, according to me, made absolutely no sense. If it were for the comedy in the flight, a cameo appearance was all that was required.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>lso, why would a film maker like you, who believes in coming
up with a solid story line, want to depend on clichés? Last minute realizations
of the heart… an outspoken lady who refuses to take hints – the proposal has to
come out in black and white. The usual mother hurdle; wouldn't the guy's complexes
suffice? The accident during the race is another. I don’t intent telling that
these are things that can’t happen. It’s all about moving from the good to the
great movie cadre.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>njali, my idea is not to spoil the party. I heard in one of
your interviews about your dream to get to the zone of a great film maker. You
certainly have great potential and as far as I understand, you are a positive
human being - the right combination that the Malayalam film industry needs
today. My hope is that you won’t fall prey into the comfort zone that hype
creates. Challenge yourself to manicure and outdo each new movie from the
previous ones.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I </b></span>noticed the massive marketing that was done for Bangalore
Days. It’s highly appreciative. My dream for you is for your films to gain
popularity across states and oceans on the sheer strength of a flawless script,
beautifully developed characters and fantastic performances. A point in your
career when you device innovative marketing styles simply to give your movie
wings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>s a closing note, if anything what I have written
has made you picture me like an annoying critic with an evil caricatured face;
smile, think of a light moment and re-read it like how Kuttan reads his
father’s letter the second time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>C</b></span>heers and all the best!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/06/courtesyreminders-from-nirupama-rajeev.html" target="_blank">Reminders from Nirupama Rajeev</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/02/a-few-more-than-seven-thoughts-on.html" target="_blank">A Few Thoughts on Gabriele Muccino’s Seven Pounds</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/mammootty-in-best-actor-critical.html" target="_blank">Mammootty in 'Best Actor' : A Critical Casting Analysis</a></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-17611536412540532512014-08-01T07:28:00.004-07:002014-08-01T07:28:39.305-07:00Back to School - the Biscuit, the Dance and the Sketches<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="https://stnfrdstatic.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">stnfrdstatic.wordpress.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">W</span></b>oohoo! It's Day 3 on my journey back to school and I am feeling great! Today, my memory downloads revolve around the extra curricular activities at school. Go on and read 'em...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: blue;">THE SPORTS DAY</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>S</b></span>ports Day, for me, was all about sitting in the sun and cheering for the athletic ones of our class, coupled with frequent visits to the school canteen with my gang. I was never much of an athlete at school. But there were two instances when I was also on the track.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>f your mind's picturing a girl in high school standing on that track, I'd say picture it again - I was just a kindergartner. I was selected for something they called the biscuit eating race.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">W</span></b>e kids are made to stand at the Starting Line. Each of us were given a biscuit each with repeated instructions not to eat them before the sports teacher shouts out ‘Go!’, followed by the tender warning that we couldn't win any prize if we ate them before we heard <i>Go</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">U</span></b>pon hearing the <i>Go</i> signal, we had to eat the biscuit and run to the finishing line. It was against the rules to run with the biscuit or run while still chewing the biscuit. Everything was clear. And so, the sports teacher yelled out, “On your marks. Get set. Go!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> took my first bite and the next thing I saw was a running girl. "Uh oh!", went my mind, "</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wanted to win the race too". So, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I decided against any more bits and pushed in the rest of the biscuit. Some voice in me set me thinking if anyone would actually realize if I chewed or not while running. Without a second thought, I ran, chewed and gulped simultaneously. At the finishing line there stood one teacher to judge who came first and another one to examine our mouth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> won second place and, thanks to my parents, still have that certificate - a mighty big one or a biscuit eating race.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he next year, they invented another race called the doll race. I wonder how they came up with all those races. For this, we participants were required to get a doll. At home, I declared that the doll I owned was not beautiful enough to be taken to school. Yes, I used the opportunity to get another doll. My dad obliged. The next day, I took a beautiful pink doll to school. I felt so proud walking around with that beautiful piece. My happiness was short lived though because I didn't like the rules of this race.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> was scandalized when I heard the instructions. Run and give my beautiful new doll to another girl? That too somebody whom I have never even seen? Why would I ever do that?</span><br />
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">oday, I know that it was a relay race. Back then, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't care if I won that race or not. I didn't even consider it a race. Needless to say, we lost.</span><br />
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>CULTURAL ACTIVITIES</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he practice sessions, costumes, green room, makeup, songs, dances, skits, stage settings and the surprise when you see them – muah! I was a performer and loved every bit of it. Today, people ask me where I get my creative ideas from. I owe a good portion of that to my school teachers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he teachers assigned with these tasks used to come up with such fabulous ideas. Of course, we participants never knew what formations they had in mind, we just practiced according to whatever they instructed. All our programmes, I remember, were very colorful and creative. The costumes were custom-made, the stage settings were beautifully done and everybody was so enthusiastic.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he Indian Republic Day was a spectacular event at our school. Among all the events that I was part of year after year, I particularly remember one in particular.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">W</span></b>e knew that we were selected for the <i>Peacock Dance</i> and we gathered that the two senior girls who were selected were the peacocks and we were the feathers. After regular and rigorous days of practice, there we were on the D-day, wondering how we were supposed to be representing peacock feathers wearing white churidars. If there was anything colorful about us, it was the pink lipstick along with the rest of the makeup. During practice sessions, we were told that our hands would be holding on to cloth that would be tied around the peacocks. But why were we in white?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>nd then, there came out the peacocks with so many broad strips of multi-colored satin cloth tied around their waists. That’s what we were to hold! That was what had replaced those boring pieces of tattered cloth during the practice sessions. So, practically, we were not the feathers but we were supposed to be dancing with the feathers. Believe me, later on when I saw the pictures of our performance; I was so proud of what I was part of, even though nobody saw my face while I was performing. My heart goes out to all those teachers for the challenges they took up!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">W</span></b>hen I ponder on cultural activities that I was part of in those days, there is another incident that I remember with a lot of clarity. I think I was about 10 years of age. Our school was turning 25 years. Preparations for the Silver Jubilee celebrations were going on in full swing. I was part of a tribal dance. During one of the practice sessions, we were learning a step that demanded a hip shake. Skinny that I was back then, no matter how much I tried; my hip shake just didn't show – it wasn't evident enough when I did it. The teachers in charge of that show, I remember, were games teachers. Both of them were what we students termed as, sweet. But, one of them held the reputation of being an extremely sweet teacher. I was very much in awe of them, because for a long time I had been practicing under them for various events. In my opinion, they did a spectacular job. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>ll these reasons put together, I was alarmed when this really sweet teacher came storming up to me, caught me by my elbow, pushed me to a corner and asked me to leave because I had no didn't know how to dance. For one, I didn't understand why I was getting yelled at. I had got everything right and I was always selected for such shows at the first go. I felt extremely shocked that a teacher who, I believed, was extremely sweet could attempt to make me feel so little. I came off the shock when all the other participants were giggling at me. And, because those teachers and I shared the same mother tongue, I understood the sarcastic comment they muttered to each other when I was closing the room behind me. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I managed to leave the room with clear eyes which welled up on the way to my classroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b> week later, the same teacher interrupted one of our classes and asked for me. Since, we don’t protest at that age, I went out as instructed. She looked down at me and commanded that I had to come for practice from that afternoon on. “Congratulations! You are taken back in”, she said, towering above me, tapping on my shoulder. “But I don’t know how to dance, teacher. I can’t do that step.”, I said. I didn’t know when a tiny tear or two rolled down my eyes. At this, she came down on her knees to look me in the eye and said, “I am sorry dear.”, she said wiping away my tears, “Please don’t cry. I shouldn't have thrown you out that way. You are always in my team because you pick up steps really fast and do them very gracefully. I was angry, it was not your fault.” I just plain looked at her. This time, she asked me if I would go for practice. I said I would and went back into the class.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">E</span></b>very year the catechism classes and moral studies books taught us about asking pardon. But for the first time I actually learned how to do it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>MY DRAWING BOOK</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> can’t draw for nuts. I have a fairly good sense of color but I just can’t draw. I simply love watching people draw mainly because I just don’t know how they do it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>n those days, one of my major issues was how to fill my drawing book. Whatever I could, I traced them out. I managed when it came to topics like <i>my school</i>, <i>the rising sun</i> or <i>the desert</i>, etc. My <i>my school</i> would only have a building and a gate (It’s a holiday, I would say). Whether it was a rising sun or a setting one that was the topic, my picture was a standard – 3 hills with a little bit of the sun peeping out from between two adjacent ones, a river flowing down a portion of the hills, grass on one side of the river, a hut and a coconut tree on the other, black ticks for birds in the sky. <i>The desert</i> was my favorite; a full bright sun, sand dunes, an oasis and a palm tree. It’s not that I didn't think of people walking, camels or so many other cute things – I just couldn't manage to sketch them out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>ny new topic was strenuous. Imagine my situation when I saw a topic such as <i>mother in the kitchen</i> written on the board. Open-mouthed with eyes like saucers - what a dilemma!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he practice was that we needed to get the drawing book signed within a week of the assignment. My classmates wanted to help but identical pictures would lower their grades too. I kept postponing the effort to submit my drawing book to be checked, for obvious reasons. A couple of weeks later, I finally decided that I would ask my neighbor to draw it for me. She was a year senior to me. And we had different teachers, so I didn't see a risk. She obliged. Once I was done with the colors, my drawing book looked so lovely that I couldn't wait to meet our drawing teacher. The very next day, I submitted mine too. The books got back through our class prefect. I opened mine in a hurry and my heart went <i>Pling!</i> There was a tick mark, a <i>Late Work</i> remark and the teacher’s signature.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">“O</span></b>f course it’s late work, but she could have mentioned how it looks, can’t she?”, I asked my friend who sat next to me, in disappointment. As I shut my book I could see her, from the corner of my eye, controlling her laughter with great difficulty. “Laugh!”, I said and we laughed out loud.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b style="font-size: x-large;">T</b>he teacher who had to take the next class entered and we learned another lesson that very moment - When you <i>have to </i>stop laughing, is when you just can't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">O</span></b>n that happy note, I'll stop for today and will be back with lot more memories tomorrow!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/back-to-school-kindergartener-careless.html" target="_blank">Back to School – the Kindergartner, the Careless Child, the Morning Jogs and the Dear ol’ Bus</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/back-to-school-early-morning-chorus.html" target="_blank">Back to School – the Early Morning Chorus, the Mighty Rains, the Creaky Cabins, and the Game of Hide and Seek</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/the-dark-one.html" target="_blank">The Dark One</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-62897510932712765872014-07-31T04:47:00.003-07:002014-08-01T04:34:40.180-07:00Back to School – the Early Morning Chorus, the Mighty Rains, the Creaky Cabins, and the Game of Hide and Seek<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSK_d8eYoRBcBPCI7mmmaLi5Bu7Ul6pCATZ5ilgusnN3wtq94g2_Ya1lUsT9QYjr9_Bvhkx5nUe5Eu6Qy6-0WSQQeuNs6sXLYgXD-aD_hL4rwfhFlT6JHHDdVb4yTmPa2D8Rb9QpeiooU/s1600/bck_schl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSK_d8eYoRBcBPCI7mmmaLi5Bu7Ul6pCATZ5ilgusnN3wtq94g2_Ya1lUsT9QYjr9_Bvhkx5nUe5Eu6Qy6-0WSQQeuNs6sXLYgXD-aD_hL4rwfhFlT6JHHDdVb4yTmPa2D8Rb9QpeiooU/s1600/bck_schl.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://quotesinpaper.us/">quotesinpaper.us</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">L</span></b>ike I promised, let's continue our journey back to those innocent days. Since we had stopped with the school bus yesterday, I thought I'll start with the early morning assembly, today. Have fun!</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">THE ASSEMBLY:</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">M</span></b>y mind's camera pictures multiple rows of us students, standing
at one-arm distance on the concrete ground, facing our Principal, the teachers and
two randomly-picked senior students - o</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">ne, bestowed with the huge responsibility of
leading the Morning Prayer (to guard our school, country of residence and
country of origin) and School Pledge (a reminder of where we were and why we
were there) and an</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">other to read out news highlights.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>o think of it now, I am not sure why we had to
repeat the Morning Prayer and the Pledge after anybody; everybody, including the dignitaries, knew them by heart. A rhythm-inducing technique, perhaps. I considered 8 a.m news reading a complete waste of time and energy. As far as I can remember,
everything other than, <i>‘Honorary principal,
Respected teachers and my dear friends. Today’s news!’</i> evaporated into thin
air. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>ll these are great memories; but the part that I enjoyed
most during assembly-time was the part where we sang the National Anthems - the Jana Gana Mana (India's National Anthem) and
the Aishibiladi (U.A.E's National Anthem) followed by the </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">class disperse</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> clap!</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>hese were done with so much
synchronization with no rehearsals or anybody in the lead – it was then, still is and will always be music to my ears.</span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">THE CLASSROOMS:</span><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The blackboard, the chalks, the duster, the notice board, the
wooden chairs and tables with steel legs, the teachers, the lessons and all
that mindless chatter – I loved my classroom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>P:</b><br /><b>
A:</b><br /><b>
T: 36</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b>Everyday after she takes attendance, that’s the first thing each class teacher writes out on the blackboard - precisely speaking, on the top right corner of the board. <i><b>P</b></i>
stood for no. of students present; <i><b>A</b></i>, for the no. of students absent and <i><b>T</b></i> was
for total number of students. As a matter of practice, that was considered the non-erasable section of the
blackboard. Every teacher entering the classroom instantly knew the strength
of the class for the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>here were two things that were great surprises – an absent
teacher or a lot of absent students. An absent teacher was a boon that was
granted once in a blue moon. It was an invited break, if there was no one
available to do a proxy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">L</span></b>ots of absent students was bumper lottery! And our gang
would never miss any of them. Back then, the Dubai drains were not one bit ready for
the rains. And weren't we glad about that! The roads and the school grounds got flooded. School buses would ply but parents would worry about children falling ill.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>he <b><i>P</i></b> on the blackboard would definitely score only a 10 or
less. Now that I know the funda behind taking leaves and salaries, I understand why
teachers ended up coming to work on those days. Words cannot describe the triumph we felt when each of our teachers opened the door, got startled at the
number of students, looked at the blackboard to cross-check and apologetically left the classroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>hanks to those worried parents and the helpless ones such
as ours’, these seasonal joys lasted for a couple of days sometimes even a
week. I do not know why but we preferred sitting up on the tables and chatting,
rather than on the chairs, on such occasions…</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: orange;">THE CABINS:</span><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>t would be right to say that our school grew along with us.
Each time a new building was set to get constructed, we would believe it was
for us to be seated in. There were constructions happening all around the
place. Owing to space constraints, once, there were temporary cabins-on-stilts set up in lieu of classrooms for some of us privileged souls. Those classrooms, which
we believed, were the cutest, was so much fun. We could hear each of our
footsteps when we walked over those floors. It felt as if we were one of those superwomen whose very footstep
could get the earth trembling underneath. The creak of the door and the tiny flight of steps, the temporary
walls that resembled Styrofoam, everything seemed to amaze us.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #741b47;">THE AFTERNOON SHIFT:</span><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>B</b></span>ack in school, a notice, announcing important events were
titled as The Circular. One of the strangest Circulars that took the rounds
announced that we, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">girls of class III, would have afternoon shift for a year,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> due to lack of classrooms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">F</span></b>or the benefit of those of you who may not know how it is out there in the gulf, schools worked
in shifts. Girls attended classes in the morning and boys in the
afternoon. So this particular Circular
was received with different kinds of emotions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">“B</span></b>ut why?”, asked an anxious
bunch. “Gosh! Will we reach home in time for the cartoons?”, wondered the
confused bunch. “<i>Psst</i>… we’ll have to
come with the boys now, IN THE SAME BUS.”, whispered a scandalous bunch in
horror. Thankfully, the bunch I used to hang out took this news at perfect ease. We were extremely pleased
because we figured that we won’t have to wake up early.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> distinctly remember an incident at our bus stop, during
this phase. We were playing hide and seek, while waiting for our bus. I came
out triumphantly – the denner had not found me. I came out and felt strange.
Something was amiss. Nobody seemed to be around. Did I come out too soon? Was everybody still in their hiding? That's when I saw my next-door neighbor friend, B. He also looked lost. We then noticed that nobody else’s bags were there
except for ours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"> “U</span></b>h oh!” we realized it with a sigh - we MISSED THE BUS. Seeing a petrified me, B took my hand and got all protective.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B:</b> “Don’t
worry Bis...”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> “Oh no! What do we do? Why didn't anybody call us? How
can everybody be so selfish, B?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B </b><i>(confused)</i><b>:</b> “It’s ok Bis, I’m there.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me</b> <i>(tensed and worried)</i><b>:</b> “You can’t drive, B.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B:</b> “Let’s go up to your house and tell your dad. He’ll drop us, won't he?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> “No, he’ll scold me.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B: </b>“I’ll tell him.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> “Still. He’ll scold me.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B:</b> “Let’s go up and tell my dad.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I thought about that option for a while and shook my head…</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me:</b> “Your dad will tell my dad and then, he’ll scold me.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>B gave up and left my hand.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And then, in the horizon, there came, what I believed was an angel - another Indian High
School Bus. Oh my! Decades later, even today, when I write about this incident, I can
feel it – as if God just rushed down taking the form of a school bus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Me</b> <i>(confused again)</i><b>:</b> “But, will it stop for us. This is not
a stop allotted for them right?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B</b> <i>(waving out his hand at the bus)</i><b>:</b> “Let’s find out.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>The bus stopped and so did my racing heart.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>B</b> <i>(to the assistant on the bus, whom we all generally called
‘chacha’)</i><b>:</b> “Missed our bus, chacha... can we come in?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><b>T</b></span><span style="line-height: 115%;">hank God for uniforms, we got permitted in. All
the children on that bus stared at us like we landed from another planet. We quietly walked and sat on a seat, thankful to God for saving us from all that yelling in the luxury of a car</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>hat's all for today! I'll get back with more school memories tomorrow...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/back-to-school-kindergartener-careless.html" target="_blank"><b>Back to School – the Kindergartener, the Careless Child, the Morning Jogs and the Dear ol’ Bus</b></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/rewinding-to-april-18-1984.html" target="_blank"><b>Rewinding to April 18, 1984</b></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/03/my-magic-beans.html" target="_blank"><b>My Magic Beans</b></a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-31009460942733527542014-07-30T04:09:00.001-07:002015-06-18T03:06:20.294-07:00Back to School – the Kindergartner, the Careless Child, the Morning Jogs and the Dear ol’ Bus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8r0QIEh45HEXJfpABjlY-DwFt9ZenjdQb3i_TppXh-kD3wrkr9i3z6P1iOXkkSzDTYYUyOCqgqSCXKqypAP1XnhW-LLLAwY5rA8vHtWyrCtfHGRVHf_fX_VfzI5GFEMfAAouV7K4tjRc/s1600/school_bus_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8r0QIEh45HEXJfpABjlY-DwFt9ZenjdQb3i_TppXh-kD3wrkr9i3z6P1iOXkkSzDTYYUyOCqgqSCXKqypAP1XnhW-LLLAwY5rA8vHtWyrCtfHGRVHf_fX_VfzI5GFEMfAAouV7K4tjRc/s1600/school_bus_resized.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://clipartbest.com/">clipartbest.com</a></span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>N</b></span>owadays, with
a son aged two, there are lots of discussions on schools. Quite naturally for me,
it’s easy to drift back and think of the good ol’ days. Let’s all go back to
school…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>K.G. K:</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b> don’t
remember a lot of my kindergarten days except us kids gathered around the
teacher’s table, running out, playing in the sand and a classmate who once came up
to me, advising me to discard my soiled handkerchief. She said that’s what her
mother did after blowing her nose. “But you throw away tissue papers not
hankies”, I countered. “Even that’s white just like this. I’m sure it’s the same.
It should be thrown”, she stuck to her resolve.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>o my
mother’s relief I didn't take that advice seriously.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>THE PENCILS
AND THE WATER BOTTLE:</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>y pencil
box and my water bottle were two challenges that I couldn't tackle throughout
my schooling period. My pencil box, the one commanded to return as is, was almost
always destined to return half empty – I had adventurous pencils that never returned to
the box. Thankfully, my eraser, sharpener and scale lacked the enthusiasm of their skinny counterpart. On the contrary,
my water bottle, the one that was supposed to be empty by the end of the day, got back just the way it left
home. I never seemed to get that right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> believe my father invested quite a
sum of money into pencils. Gladly, the pens I owned found their way back into my pouch everyday. Some lessons take time, I guess...<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: lime; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b>THE BUS
STOP:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> lived 15
minutes away from where my school was located. Ours was the first pick-up point
and we had, probably, five others before we reached our destination. We had pick-up
points that were a stone’s throw away from each other. Talk about convenience!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>f
any of my friends are of the opinion that I am a late Kate – it’s true and it’s
been there from time immemorial. It was a usual sight for my bus mates to see
me jogging behind the 7:30 a.m. bus to catch it at least at the next pick-up
point. There were times when I have wondered if I would make it to the
Guinness Book of World Records if I ran behind it till school.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> am grateful
that my non-athletic nature shunned looking into this possibility on a serious
note.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: yellow; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b style="background-color: black;">THE BUS</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">n the
beginning bus rides were all about reciting rhymes over and over again, jumping in the bus when it goes
over humps; laughing at things I just can’t seem to remember, etc. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>n
high school, bus rides were still fun but on a different note. There were four of us who were the
oldest on the bus. It was an unwritten rule that the right hand side of the
longest seat at the back of the bus; and the one in front of it was ours. That was our
gossip-cum movie replay zone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>F</b></span>riday being a holiday, it was customary for a new
movie to be out on cassettes every Thursday evening. It was also customary for Channel
33 – the then local TV Channel of Dubai to play a Hindi movie on Thursday
nights. The four of us used to enact these movies that we would have watched over the
weekend. I don’t
know how we did them after viewing the movie just once, but we did it with a lot of vigor and zeal. It was as if we had a screen test coming up soon. Nothing was rehearsed for this act. If all four of us hadn't watched the same movie, there wouldn't be
any acting sessions, just motivations with highlights to watch the movie. It
was sheer fun!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></b>alking
about fun, there comes to my mind another incident which was pure fun when we
were at it, but not quite after a while. This one was with my gang in class – six of us. It was one of those boring high school days. I don’t have a speck of
memory with regards to why we didn't have class and what we were doing
loitering in the campus. At that age, the thought of bunking classes was not even an idea at
its genesis. Whatever the reason be, the point is that we had
nothing to do. Roaming around the campus on that hot day, we stopped by for
some shade at the parking lot allotted for the school buses. We noticed that there was nobody around
– just open buses. What did we fancy about a parked bus? I don’t know - I'm not
11 anymore. It’s human to have aching legs the moment you see empty seats. So
we hopped into one of the buses. At first it was the echo of our footsteps in a still and empty bus
that intrigued us. I don’t know when the devil got the better of us; because
before we knew, we were cheering and racing each other - two at a time. If that wasn't bad enough, we decided to run over the seats, along the aisle with one foot each on adjacent seats. I wish I could tell you that you should try that some time because it was super fun. Once we were drained from this activity, we realized that all the seats were soiled with our footprints on them. By
the time, sense put a reign on us and we decided to wipe them away with our handkerchiefs, one of us spotted a man, dressed in a bus driver’s uniform, walking towards the bus. Out we
jumped and ran away for the fear of being caught! All those moral studies of being apologetic and owning up one’s faults went down the drain. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I swear I saw myself getting scolded at in the Principal’s
office, my dad’s angry face and an eventuality which I didn't know how to
imagine – all this in the split of a second.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>N</b></span>ever once later had any one of us
suggested doing such a thing on a boring day which is verdict in itself that we
all swore inwardly never to repeat such a thing ever again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><b style="font-size: x-large;">I </b>think I'll stop for today. Hope you
had a fun ride so far. This is not all. I’ll be back with more school memories
tomorrow. Stay tuned!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/back-to-school-early-morning-chorus.html" target="_blank">Back to School – the Early Morning Chorus, the Mighty Rains, the Creaky Cabins, and the Game of Hide and Seek</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/08/back-to-school-biscuit-dance-and.html" target="_blank">Back to School - the Biscuit, the Dance and the Sketches</a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-40422748386840005372014-07-25T11:29:00.001-07:002016-01-25T08:51:28.956-08:00Ethir Disha: Definitely Against the Tides<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQpIuoMHciraYR6gxNvX3CXNgPn7TAnA5nPDwGwK2hqpSukTshEYj4mPLdlOQfbPok4vtJS1N7-qPJ0bBs2fXi3vC6GRq9QCIwrBLzsn03t76aZ6zTNFZ8f3Il1PswV89gaQungUSR8A/s1600/ed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQpIuoMHciraYR6gxNvX3CXNgPn7TAnA5nPDwGwK2hqpSukTshEYj4mPLdlOQfbPok4vtJS1N7-qPJ0bBs2fXi3vC6GRq9QCIwrBLzsn03t76aZ6zTNFZ8f3Il1PswV89gaQungUSR8A/s1600/ed.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://thecomplexair.blogspot.in/">thecomplexair.blogspot.in</a></span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">"L</span>iterature that takes you along the delicate contours that exist between reality and dreams. Each story paints a picture of its own. Pictures that transcend the boundaries of time - a book that truly stands out.", </i>promised the scripture behind <a href="http://facebook.com/mahesh.ravi" target="_blank">Mahesh Ravi</a>'s <a href="http://www.indulekha.com/ethirdisa-stories-mahesh-ravi?filter_name=ethir+disha" target="_blank">Ethir Disha</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>H</b></span>onestly, since I had already read a couple of stories of this book during its making, I was earnestly looking forward to the rest. However, as practice would have it, I had to read the short text behind the book. After having done with that formality, I ventured into the book. The table of contents is usually not a section that interests me. Of course, when it is a novel, the table of contents, at least for me, is not of much importance. But, <a href="http://www.indulekha.com/ethirdisa-stories-mahesh-ravi?filter_name=ethir+disha" target="_blank">Ethir Disha</a> being a collection of short stories, the table des matières, was worth looking into. The mild obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) part in me insisted that I should read starting from the first on the list. However, the title <i>Priyappetta Shri. Balachandran Menon-nu Oru Thuranna Kathu</i> caught my eye. I didn't even realize when the OCD got dismissed. That long, but awesome, title prompted me to choose that story to be my first.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he extent to which I liked that story, I believe, is quite evident from my previous post <a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/07/rewinding-to-april-18-1984.html" target="_blank">Rewinding to April 18, 1984</a>. Majorly though it may be, nostalgia was certainly not the only reason because of which I took a liking to this story. The very idea to write a story in the form of a letter - brilliant!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">A</span></b>ll the other stories were read in random order. All the stories were in perfect sync with their respective titles. Each of the stories took me to a different land. If a <i>Virasamaaya Oru Pranayakadha</i> made me giggle, <i>Samaantharangal </i>made me empathetic, <i>Chilanthikal</i> sent a chill down my spine and the list goes on. I'd love to write about them all; but that would make it a spoiler for all of <i><a href="http://www.indulekha.com/ethirdisa-stories-mahesh-ravi?filter_name=ethir+disha" target="_blank">Ethir Disha</a>'s</i> readers out there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>H</b></span>aving said that, all good pieces of literature, deserves a special mention. And the special mention for this book goes to <i>Rakthathullikal</i>. It left me truly inspired with a tinge of envy. I was inspired and envious for the very same reason - I knew that probably, I would never ever had imagined writing anything like that. I mean, whoever thought that a story could be written in 17 sentences? Certainly not me! It got me hooked from line one and at the end of the 17th sentence, the picture that got sketched in my mind completely blew me off. The more I think of this idea of a story written so short, the more I understand the complexity it would have gone through in the making. The obligation it takes to keep the reader captivated from the very first few words is extremely high, in order to achieve such a feat. Unquestionably impressive!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.indulekha.com/ethirdisa-stories-mahesh-ravi?filter_name=ethir+disha" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>E</b></span>thir Disha</a> brings you 10 stories belonging to different genres and each story, in my opinion is amazing in itself. The mode of story telling adopted by the author of the book, <a href="http://facebook.com/mahesh.ravi" target="_blank">Mr. Mahesh Ravi</a>, is fantastic. He has taken care to ensure that each story leads your way to experience a different set of emotions. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>D</b></span>on't get deceived by its</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> petite appearance, when you get hold of this book. A well-versed reader is sure to enjoy this book of multiple genres. Besides, I am of the opinion that the very appearance of this book will be an encouragement for a first time reader also.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span> perfect book to carry around and read anytime. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">All my best wishes for all the future works that this budding writer has in mind!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/06/moments-i-wished-id-photographed.html" target="_blank">Moments I Wished I'd Photographed</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/04/revisiting-disney-finding-nemo.html" target="_blank">Revisiting Disney: Finding Nemo</a></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2011/04/maundy-thursday.html" target="_blank"><b>Maundy Thursday</b></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-46609440112947111642014-07-17T21:42:00.000-07:002014-09-23T10:15:50.156-07:00Rewinding to April 18, 1984<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuFPzwEnXRtZz-yESHcbPoACScT-qCC-RCMf_kjcz48UPin_Eo99Pld6Y0O7AxbSCiiC2hqwo_xjCFEQg-53uOMcHVRzdwzY8as9OahTcKy_jOOVoEpWSqyatjAxfJ8FqtYyUvZe8vUw/s1600/april+18_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkuFPzwEnXRtZz-yESHcbPoACScT-qCC-RCMf_kjcz48UPin_Eo99Pld6Y0O7AxbSCiiC2hqwo_xjCFEQg-53uOMcHVRzdwzY8as9OahTcKy_jOOVoEpWSqyatjAxfJ8FqtYyUvZe8vUw/s1600/april+18_1.JPG" height="320" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://youtube.com/">youtube.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span> short story written by a friend, set me smiling, taking me back to those days of childhood bliss. April 18! The very name set me on a pleasant walk down memory lane...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>t was a weekday afternoon in Dubai. I was probably 6 or 7 years of age, back then. The lad, clad in the tight shirt and bell bottom pants whom we children called <i>cassette uncle</i>, was at the doorstep handing out a cassette with great confidence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"C</b></span>hechy, it is Balendran Menon's", he advertised to mummy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he look on his face told me instantly that mummy would surely rent out that one. I still remember mummy's face brighten up on reading the title written out bold across the white sticker on the tape.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"O</b></span>h! It's April 18. Heard of this one. Is it good?", asked Amma maintaining her poise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"I</b></span>t's a hit!", he exclaimed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b></span>oney out. Cassette in. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Business done. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cassette uncle gone. Door shut.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>O</b></span>ur VCR was still new and playing cassettes at home was a novel idea. An excited me asked, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Shall we watch it Amma?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he request was declined. My mother retired for her afternoon nap after having declared that we would watch it during dinner. That verdict meant that the movie should be a good one. The movies tagged as good ones would be previewed only with the whole family in sitting. The ones that weren't a sure shot had chances of going through a preview of sorts. The pretext that flew in the air at such instances were that, the brief screening was to understand the cast and crew, etc.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>H</b></span>owever, that afternoon I decided to take a chance. Having sneaked into the bedroom to make sure my mother was asleep, I loaded the VCR with the cassette. For the benefit of the new gen, cassettes had to be re-winded so that you could watch a flick from the beginning. But since childhood adventures had time constraints, I simply opted to play it. I saw a vertical white sari and a guy (I presumed he would be the hero) sitting on the floor tugging at it, saying, <i>"Ninte oru samayam"</i>. Since he didn't look familiar, my adventurous spirit fizzed out. The cassette went back into its cover and I probably opted for the afternoon nap.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>O</b></span>ver tea, mummy shot out the good news about the movie we got lucky with. I still don't know how she did it with such calm. <i>"Oh then we'll say our prayers earlier than the usual time and watch it during dinner."</i>, declared daddy. Now it got exciting again. Something to watch during dinner time - something other than the boring 10 'o' clock news.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>P</b></span>rayer time - The cassette was set to rewind while we prayed. I could hardly pray. My ears were tuned, waiting for the feeble <i>'tak'</i> sound that the machine would give out indicating that the cassette was done rewinding. And in my opinion, there was an ocean of prayers yet to be chanted. And then, daddy had to shower - such a long way to go...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>F</b></span>inally, after what seemed to me like an eternity, it happened! The <i>play</i> button was given command...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>D</b></span>addy and mummy giggled and laughed. They commented. They agreed. They disagreed. And me? I mimicked them - I didn't understand much whatever it was that was happening on screen. I liked a dance though and swore I'd perform that on stage once, with the same costume. The movie should have been a good one because mummy and daddy seemed to like it. A few hours later, an uncle and aunty hugged on screen and something got written across their face. The movie had ended - thank God I understood that much! "Very nice movie.", said mummy; and daddy nodded in agreement. I also agreed, completely in awe of my parents - God! They know everything. They know a good movie from a bad one. Now that they said it, I was sure that the one we just saw was a good one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span> don't remember what happened of c<i>assette uncle</i> and I don't know how this cassette got stranded at home. But, I do know that I got habitual of seeing this movie time and again. Gradually, I realized that it was indeed a feel good movie. I learned that it wasn't Balendran Menon's movie, but Balachandran Menon's movie. I learned the dance and the song. I knew all the dialogues by heart - scene by scene. I even wished I was playing the role of Shobana. Never saw the movie after I left Dubai in 1993.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span>atched the movie on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NG9LH7DGvM" target="_blank">YouTube</a> again this week. Here I was watching this flick 30 years later, giving out each and every one of those dialogues - scene by scene - as and when they appeared on screen. The diction, to my surprise, was strikingly in sync with that of the actors. Loved the experience!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>oday, I understand that the movie is indeed a good one. Simple story line and neat performances.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>pril 18 narrates the tale of Sub Inspector Ravikumar Pillai, played by Balachandran Menon himself. The film balances out the personal and professional life of this policeman. It's all simple and realistic in this one - no strain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>his movie debuted a 13 and half year old girl to play the role of the SI's wife - Shobana. And what an impressive performance it was for a 13 year old! Another actor worth mentioning is Unni Mary as Rajamma. I admit that I haven't seen all of the movies she's acted in, but, from the few that I have seen I think this was a solid performance - a typical Christian house wife of the times. Like I said before, each and every actor has done justice to their role. Whether it was Adoor Bhasi, Venu Nagavalli, Bharath Gopi, Adoor Bhavani, Sukumari or even the junior artists - I wouldn't imagine anybody else in the roles they played.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">B</span></b>y now, I am hoping you would have understood that the movie is a personal favorite for no phenomenal reason. But as I write this post, my mind does ponder on whether I want to mark any part of the movie as a favorite scene...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>s a child I didn't understand anything more than an uncle addressing his wife as <i>kutta... kutto...</i> and I really liked the feel of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>s a teenager, I thought I understood all of it. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The term </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">navamukulangal</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, often came to my mind like a flash card</span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and set me giggling whenever I attempted writing out a speech, back in those days. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I refused to believe that it was Unni Mary who played Rajamma because I didn't like Unni Mary but I liked Rajamma. I completely agreed when she tells her husband, <i>"Penungalkkum oru vela vendayo?"</i> I loved the scenes where Ravikumar teases his wife, reprimands a child at the police station and felt wow when he resigns from his duties.<i> </i>Whenever the air conditioner was switched on, I even tried sniffing the air to see if it does have a stink.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>s an adult, I understand that I hardly understood anything in my teens. The final court scene stole my heart. When Ravikumar says, "Separate us.", I felt touched, because I knew what he meant and the explanation he gives didn't just justify my thoughts but was extremely heartfelt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he beauty of April 18 is that it doesn't show a flawless marriage at any point and yet we vouch for them as a couple. </span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>P</b></span>riyappetta Shri. Balachandran Menon-nu Oru Thuranna Kathu</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> - one of the short stories by <a href="http://facebook.com/mahesh.ravi" target="_blank">Mr.Mahesh Ravi</a> in his recent collection </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://thecomplexair.blogspot.in/2014/07/its-official-and-its-out-ethir-disha.html" target="_blank">Ethir Disha</a></i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> was what set all these memories rolling. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you Mahesh Ravi for bringing in so much of nostalgia...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/03/movies-that-touched-my-heart-nammukku.html" target="_blank">Movies That Touched My Heart: Namukku Paarkkan Munthiri Thoppukal</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/01/ammukutty-character-study.html" target="_blank">Ammukutty – A Character Study</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/movies-that-touched-my-heart-pursuit-of.html" target="_blank">Movies that Touched My Heart: the Pursuit of Happyness</a></b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-52479471574437040502014-06-16T07:43:00.001-07:002014-09-23T10:17:05.136-07:00Get High with Idukki Gold<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="color: purple; font-weight: bold;">Courtesy:</i><span style="color: purple; font-weight: bold;"> </span><a href="http://www.kerala9.com/" style="color: purple; font-weight: bold;">www.kerala9.com</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span> story depicting the lives of 5 men. A movie crafted out of that story is expected to strike a chord among the men folk. While it does that, if it doesn't shirk the women crowd, it should be tactfully made, isn't it? I watched this feature film on a bad day; it left me smiling and spirited enough to embrace the rest of the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span></b>dukki Gold makes you laugh out loud, want to meet this gang that has no name, drive down to Idukki, get in touch with your old buddies and revisit your school days. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are no twists or turns in this one. The movie takes a natural flow. Lots of memories and moments </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">set in picturesque frames </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">sewn together beautifully with dialogues that are silly fun - that's Idukki Gold for you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>his motion picture depicts the lives of 5 great school friends - Michael, Madan, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Antony, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ravi and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Raman</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. The frames keep switching between their school days and present lives. The film begins with a middle aged Micahel trying to get in touch with his school buddies. A reunion of sorts - the story is as simple as that. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I couldn't help but notice, that the reunion was not over done - its very male and rightfully so.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>L</b></span>ike I cited before, the central characters are five men; they are five extremely different characters. The actors selected to play these roles are really appreciative. In my opinion, all five of them have done ample lot of justice to their character. I liked Maniyanpilla Raju as Madan the most. There was something unique about the way he delivered this role as compared to many others he has done during his acting tenure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he scenic beauty that's captured on camera is remarkably fascinating. I felt Idukki should be my next holiday destination. Another breath taking frame was enroute Alleppey - extremely pleasant! I liked the different chapters the movie was subdivided into. <i>'Plastic Nirodhikannam'</i> is a personal favorite. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What kept me glued to the movie, however, were the dialogues - simple and witty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Talking about dialogues, the one that I'd love to quote is the last dialogue delivered by Michael (played by Pratap Pothen). He says, "It's not about drugs, it's about friends." And that is so true! You can replace the drugs with just about anything - the batre dabba tea, the ice stick lollies, the forbidden mangoes, the bread masala that we had <i>that rainy day</i>, etc. I am sure most of us would have, at some point in time, made a statement on the lines of, "I've never tasted ____ better than the one we had then." Have you ever tried guessing the reason? The special ingredient was never in that plate - it was around the table! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>U</b></span>sually, 'those were the days' are days we refer to when we recount our college or school days. Those days are episodes of our life that offer a great source of respite once we enter the rat race. On a tired day, take two minutes to close your eyes and mentally rewind those moments. I bet, you'll catch yourself laughing, or at least beaming and sighing with pleasure. Of late, meeting old friends has more or less become a virtual enjoyment. Some are gifted with a little more than that. Whether one finds it practical or not to meet old buddies, it is definitely something that everyone looks forward to. Meeting old friends may not be the highest of your priorities. But if and when you are fortunate enough for any such event, it leaves you feeling so much refreshed and mighty young.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span> simple movie fulfills simple expectations. Watch Idukki Gold simply to feel light, to unwind, to get nostalgic, to walk down memory lane and recollect those innocent pranks and carefree days!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Also Read:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/mumbai-police-superb-plot-and-stunning.html" target="_blank">Mumbai Police: Superb Plot and Stunning Performances</a></b></span><br />
<a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/05/mammootty-in-best-actor-critical.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Mammootty in 'Best Actor': A Critical Casting Analysis</b></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2013/04/salt-n-pepper-return-of-golden-era.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Salt n Pepper: Return of the Golden Era?</b></span></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-90630323918776178022014-06-05T10:50:00.003-07:002014-09-23T10:19:08.193-07:00How Old Are You: Inspiring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy: <a href="http://nowrunning.com/">nowrunning.com</a></span></i></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">M</span></b>anju Warrier back on screen, director Roshan
Andrews, writers Sanjay and Bobby – all this united with the teasers and
trailers of the movie were reasons enough for me to book tickets for How Old
Are You. I had my fingers crossed hoping that the movie wouldn't be a lazy
attempt with the makers simply trusting the movie would do well since it was launching Manju
back after 14 years. Like always, I entered the cinema hall hoping for the
best.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">H</span></span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">onestly, I was disappointed with the first
half. Everybody was doing their part well but something was amiss. It lacked
the ability to get me hooked to the movie. I was just watching. In my
opinion, it should have focused on Nirupama's (enacted by Manju) life, her
chores, her thoughts etc., rather than the careless attitude of government
officers in general.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">T</span></span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">he second half, however, took me by surprise.
It was a brilliant piece of work which dramatically changed my opinion about
the movie. I smiled, I sobbed, I got excited - I understood Nirupama Rajeev.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">N</span></span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">irupama, a UD clerk at the Revenue Department,
is a wife and a mother who leads a very normal life; a life as per the
standards set by our society. There is a change in the mundane routine of
Nirupama's life after the President of India visits her teenage daughter’s
school. Her life takes a different route when her husband decides to migrate to
</span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Ireland</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> with their daughter -
leaving her behind.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">M</span></span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">anju Warrier has given a scintillating
performance as Nirupama Rajeev. I read that the story was not written with her
in mind. I am glad however, that the movie finally was ultimately meant for
her. She did a fabulous job. The slow transition from the bored Nirupama who
simply got herself adapted to the circumstances that she is in to the high
spirited lady that we see in the climax - wonderful performance! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">S</span></span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana;">aying that, I am glad
I don't have to review this movie saying, go watch it just for Manju. The movie
is backed with good performances by all the other artists, especially Kunjacko
Boban. During his second innings in the film industry, he has been quite good
with the movies he chooses. He has also proved that he can successfully carry a movie on
his shoulders. During this phase of his career, I am amazed that he took up the
role of Rajeev Narayanan. After all, How Old Are You is a woman oriented movie. Kunjacko
has delivered the role of a more or less chauvinist personality with great
finesse. The balance he brings about is very appreciative. Rajeev Narayanan
speaks volumes to the men of our society. He isn’t a complete chauvinist. He is
an example that you don’t have to always be a chauvinist in the true sense to
be a negative influence on the woman in your life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>nother aspect I liked about the movie is that
it is not sex-biased. There are so many male characters in the movie that
are instrumental towards Nirupama’s transition.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>H</b></span>ow Old Are You portrays beautifully how
things fall in place once you get involved in something you like – something
that is worthy of you. Age should be the last thing you should be
bothered about when you get an opportunity to do something you believe you can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>L</b></span>ike I said before, the
first half may be dull but thankfully, the cinema ends on a highly inspiring
note. Go watch it!</span></div>
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<b>You may also be interested in: <a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/06/courtesyreminders-from-nirupama-rajeev.html" target="_blank">Reminders from Nirupama Rajeev</a></b></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14961135805276934353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3234962122594424690.post-68020924735603870492014-06-05T10:44:00.001-07:002014-09-23T10:18:51.985-07:00Reminders from Nirupama Rajeev<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;">Courtesy:</span></i> <a href="http://indiaglitz.com/">indiaglitz.com</a>/<a href="http://smh.com.au/">smh.com.au</a>/<a href="http://ibtimes.co.in/">ibtimes.co.in</a>/<a href="http://sikh24.com/">sikh24.com</a>/<a href="http://news.in.msn.com/">news.in.msn.com</a></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">t was recently that I watched the Malayalam movie titled <a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/06/how-old-are-you-inspiring.html" target="_blank"><b>How Old Are You</b></a>. There are so many aspects about the life of the protagonist, Nirupama Rajeev, that struck a chord.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span>ll you women who find your life mundane and boring; all those of you who catch yourself saying, "Whatever a woman aspires, it is after all the pots, the pans, the breakfast, lunch and dinner that matters." - this one's for you!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>f you think that's a blow of reality and you were just seeing dreams as a child - change your thoughts. If you want to see yourself grow in this patriarchal society, realize your dreams, want your children (be it boys or girls) to have a different take on life and most importantly, if you want to be yourself - you are just a thought away...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>here are friends who have called me complaining that now that their children have begun doing things themselves, they feel lost; they feel they don't have anything much to do and that they are too old to look out for a job. I always ask them a question, "What is it that you have always wanted to do?" Most of the time they simply don't know. You don't know because you have stopped weaving dreams.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>A</b></span> friend once told me that she had always wanted to be a doctor. Now, at the age of 36, that was not a dream that she could chase. Well, first of all, that was not an impossible dream. But yes, it could be highly impractical. But that does not mean the dream's lost and gone forever. That is, my dear ladies, where you have to tweak your thoughts. For example in this case, there are so many alternatives to join the health industry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>hat goes for any industry you may be looking into. Check out your options. Find out what interests you. I promise you, there will be some treasure waiting for you. Remember, this universe reveals its goodies only to those who take the trouble to look for it - for those who feel worthy of it. After all, what you ask is what you shall get and what you seek is what you shall find.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span>t is great when a woman can have a superb support system. Some of you may be even gifted with men in your life who help you do the research and make you achieve great heights. Others may have people around them who may not be all that proactive but wouldn't mind the compromises that they have to make once they are convinced. Both of these are amazing situations. Don't turn down these queen makers with your laziness or lack of interest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>O</b></span>ther than the above two types, there is the next bunch who are a majority. They believe that they risk losing everything if a woman is permitted to do something she believes in. Do they risk the same in their venture? Most likely the answer is a yes. And what may be the actual reason for all the drama and the resistance? The very fact that their life changes, they have to compromise and make their own adjustments. They have to let go. Chasing their own dreams may tend to slow down. The easiest way out of this insecurity - blow up the negatives, criticize, blame the age, showcase children as a trap and use every such tool possible to crush a dream. The she is only meant for the well being of the he and the he's family. I say, don't give too much heed to these tantrums. Like a friend once rightfully pointed out, tantrums are always tantrums. Whether it comes from an adult, a child or a toddler, the best way to deal with it is to ignore it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he climax of the movie beautifully portrays one of life's greatest lessons. All those grumpy faces turn happy, appreciative and supportive the moment you turn successful.Success after all will always have a great number of fathers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>T</b></span>he next question would be - what if I am not? The golden answer is - how would you ever know if you haven't tried? And why would you be denied of success? Be positive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>R</b></span>emember my dear friends! A Kiran Bedi, an Indira Gandhi, a Dr. Tessy Thomas, a Mary Kom or any other woman achiever from any part of this world didn't just drop down from skies with a note in their hands indicating that they are extraordinary and have been sent down for special tasks. They too would have either had a superb support system or would have ignored many grumpy faces or both.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>I</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> like a lot many dialogues that How Old Are You had to offer. But the most striking one was, "Your dream is your signature". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>L</b></span>adies! L</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ive your dream and leave your signature because you are so totally worth it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>You may also be interested in - <a href="http://banyantreechronicles.blogspot.in/2014/06/how-old-are-you-inspiring.html" target="_blank">How Old Are You : Inspiring</a></b></span></div>
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