'Xcuse Me! Home Is Priority For Me Too...

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Along 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.

It is nothing new to find homemakers expressing concern over the homes run by the ones who choose to drive their career alongside. However, it 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.

I 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.

"Your 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.

Needless 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. It's not just women, even men who are just plain lazy and unwilling to do their bit, pour out these kind of advises.

It is a typical characteristic of these people that they bear no intent to support or offer a helping hand, when it is needed.

"I told you so...", is all they will have to offer at a moment of support.

To all of you men and women 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...

I may be busy scheduling out my day,
I may have a maid to do the regular household chores for me,
Nevertheless, the home runs the way I want it to.
I manage it!

I take care to make sure that my home runs just as well in my absence.
The laundry gets done, the house gets swept clean and the kitchen runs fine, not just because I have a maid.
It's also because I know how to maintain her too.

I am sure to have carved out support
To ensure my child's safe and well taken care of.
I may not be with my child 24 hours a day.
But please care to note that I am my child's mother.
I take immense care and shell out lots of money
To ensure that my child is in safe hands.

Even after a busy day, I make time to
Chat with my little one, play games, watch cartoons and
See the smiles, giggles and laughter.
Like yours, my child too turns to me in times of illness, sorrow and joy because
I am also a mother and a caring one, after all...

With all due respect to the life you have chosen to live,
Please respect the fact that like you say your home is your priority,
It is no different for me.

It is cruel and downright idiocy to think that just because
I have chosen to pursue a career alongside I am a selfish being.
Honestly, I think it's high time
You change your lens of observation.

If you can, stop sitting up on a pedestal looking down upon me.
If not, crib behind my back for all you care. 
Just stop advising me, please...

Remember, I am just being polite not asking you to stop.
Don't push it!

I understand that your brain, knowledge train and/or life experience
Hasn't showered you with the capability of understanding
The life I choose to live.
Deal with this issue yourself, I pray. 
For I don't have
The time, energy or space
To give you a detailed class.

Be clear that my child, my home and my life is my problem.

Be aware that I shall heed your advise
When I think you may be in a position to offer a solution.
Until then, please understand that
Free advises are simply a waste of my time and yours.

Last but not the least;
Like everybody else on this earth,
I too am observant about the life around me.

I see couples living a fairly good life. 
Just in case you haven't noticed;
Love grows and relationships get stronger
When male counterparts do their fair share.
Not just when they want things done.
But also when it is the need of the hour-
Needless of who is at the needs' end.

With that note I'd like to enlighten you
That my husband may be in relation
Your brother, your son or your dear best friend.
However, before you seat yourself on the judge's chair,
It is a note to ponder that you will
Never know how he is as a husband - NEVER!

So if you cannot hold yourself back,
I would suggest that you
Reserve your advises for him,
Discuss events or console him, as you please.

Let me be ME.

Thank you ever so much!

Also Read:

Two Tales and a Few Thoughts

Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way

Erin Brockovich: Always Inspiring

Ennum Eppozhum: Speechless...

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Story: 

Courtesy: uncyclopedia.wikia.com

Cast:

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Cast Performance: 

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Dialogues: 

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Music:

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Core Message:

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A note to all those of you who felt 'C'mon, it wasn't that bad': 

Request you to kindly watch Sathyan Anthikkad's T.P Balagopalan M.A, Sanmanassullavarkku Samadhanam, Nadodikkaattu, Pattanapravesham, Sasneham, Thalayanamanthram, Sandesham, Veendum Chila Veettukaryangal, Manassinakkare, etc. and think again.

THE END.

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Two Tales and a Few Thoughts

Image Courtesy: joneseysunshine.files.wordpress.com

Today, let me tell you an old story – two actually.

These 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.

Mercy’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.

Percy, 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.

Except 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.

In 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.

Percy’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.

Percy 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, entrusting her baby to her mother, within a few hours of her child birth, Percy set off to give her interview directly from the hospital. .

At the interview, after 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.

The interview concluded with the 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.

I 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.

My 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.

What I'd like to highlight is that, it doesn't really matter how you choose to brave through your adversities. Remember, it is YOU and ONLY YOU who knows what exactly you are dealing with and each one of us has a mind and brain exclusively designed for us. Weigh your options and stick to your choice.

However, 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.

I’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!!!

It's true. Whether it is jewelry, clothes, emotions, inner strength, or a plethora of skills, women have so much at their disposal.Focus on your strength.

Explore what you have and what you are - take pride that you are a woman.

Happy Woman’s Day!

Image Courtesy: coroflot.com

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Sloshed!

Image Courtesy: http://1ms.net

A 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.

Rewinding to the 1995-2000 era - many a conversations around those cups of coffee, or beneath trees revealed so many funny stories…

S: Yesterday night we went outdoors with a few bottles. We went over these rocky hills and had a blast. It was fun.
I: Don’t you always have fun over drinks? What's the difference whether you have it indoors or outdoors?
S: The experience is much better outdoors. It's sheer bliss - fresh air, drinks and voices of nature!
I (slightly sarcastic): Umm… the fresh air and the rotten alcohol – nice combo!
S: You won’t understand
I: Umm... I’m sure. So, what happened yesterday?
S (chuckling): On our way back, D slipped and fell.
I (startled): Goodness!
S: Nothing to worry lady. We were drunk. It's normal and magical. It doesn't pain at that time.

My eyes were wide now, trying to understand.

I: The magic wears off the next day, I suppose?
S: Yea, all magic is time-bound, isn't it? You must know what it is to get drunk someday…
I: To experience magic when you don't even realize it and then suffer all that pain? No thanks!
S: 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!

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.

S: And then a bus stopped in front of us. When we were boarding the bus, I noticed D carrying a banana plant.
I: A BANANA PLANT? You mean a bunch of bananas?
S (laughing out loud): 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.
Me (laughing out loud): Atrocious!
S (guffawing):  What's more hilarious is that we didn't find anything wrong with his demand, at that point in time.
Me (laughing out loud): Why am I not surprised!
S: 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.”
Me: Gosh S! You mean the stepney wheel of the bus?!?
S: Hahaha! Yes.

That 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.

First let’s go for the long sight.

To 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…

The handsome he: Look at that! So many heads… Are we drunk or has their room size increased?
The spectacled he: Let’s take an attendance and check.
The discoverer he: Halt guys! Look. There’s a guy in the girls’ hostel.
All the hes: Where? Where? Where?
The discoverer he (pointing carefully): There. Look - a Sardarji!

Our 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.

The pimple-faced he (courteously): Excuse me Sardarji. What is your name?

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? (Like it was ok for a guy to be in a girls' hostel at other times of the day) Get down and get out of that room immediately or else!”

And 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. We burst out laughing and dispersed from near the windows.

The comments from across the wall continued…

Now for some visuals in close up – the one that I have always termed ‘my favorite’!

Gliteratti! (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.

A (grins): Shh...! B, there’s a secret in here. If you are not comfortable, can you sleep in the other room tonight, please?
I: What is the secret? I gently push the door open.

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: Why you all so silent? Why are these buckets in the middle of the room?

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 figured what’s going on.

A, P, and all others: B, you wanna go next door?
My mind, brain and soul shouted out to me in unison: 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!
I (maintaining calm): No, I’m fine.

It took a couple of minutes more for even the booze to convince them that I was truly okay.

In 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!

Don’t worry about any lost vodka. There was an angel on her knees, right beside R, channelizing all that ‘precious’ water into herself via her cupped palms.

Some 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.

Then 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.

I 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.

“Are you not drinking?”, I asked
“Not really; just a few sips. What’s going on in here is too much fun to miss.”

I couldn't agree more as we laughed into pillows lying nearby.

Somewhere in between, there was a knock on the door. Those firm knocks were an instant disclaimer that it was our warden.
The two of us - one with hardly any and the other with nil alcohol intake - looked at each other, not knowing what to do.

R, who was totally sloshed by then, was lying on the ground screaming, “Let her…”

We 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.

Within 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’.

The 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!

Owing 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.

The 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.”

College! 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.

Those 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.

Thank you, all of you, for all these memories of bottled poetry!

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Three Lessons I Learned the Hard Way

Courtesy: amsl.com

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?

In retrospect, don't you think even in personal life, advises end up taking the form of an official notification?

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.

Small Small Things

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.

Although the hard way, I learned to do that – to gulp, ignore and let go.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

So, we end up gulping (not erasing) the so called ‘small things’. Erasing is not an option here because nothing is resolved.

Like everything small, these small things also grow. And one day it turns too big to stay within. It comes out bad and nasty.

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?”

Duh..?

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.

Lesson one: Do not ignore small things and do not teach your children to do                            that.

In Touch with God

A recent conversation…

“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 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.

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?

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!

Personally I pray, when I am at peace. I love thanking and hate blaming and going to war with a Being I love.

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.

Lesson two: Believe in the love of God than His/Her wrath. Teach your children                      to face reality, rather than fearing and escaping punishments.

You are too small to decide

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.

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.

Many a time I have heard people say, "you will feel so now but you will regret later."

Why? 

Is it bad to regret?

Is it a nightmare to learn to recoup?

Will the world be a dead end for them?

Most importantly - will it always have to end up that way just because your experience or gut feel says so?

Let's face it – it's not just about their good. It's an equal measure, and sometimes more, of our image too.

Just don’t do it. Don't kill a child's decision making ability at its genesis.

And if the child is really persistent, it's common to say, "Fine! Do as you please."

I can't express how freaking lonely that statement makes you feel at the age of 15 or 17.

Lesson three: Parents and just privileged care takers. Every individual is                                  special and unique. Respect that!

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.

As a last note. It's ok to ask forgiveness to your child. Accept your flaws.

Life ain't perfect. But, build perfect bridges. Keeps the journey smooth.

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Reminders from Nirupama Rajeev

A Death Visual

Maleficent: Evil Has Never Been This Good

Courtesy: moviefone.com

After 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!

When 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.

The 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.

I 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.”

Maleficent 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.

Wiki 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!

If 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.

It'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.

In 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.

The 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.

All this and a whooping $700+ million collection worldwide – well, well, well; what a grand celebration!?!

Saving Mr. Banks: A Tale of Two Promises

Courtesy: 4.bp.blogspot.com/google

Here I was, hunting for the right picture that would go with the Walt Disney quote, which I planned on featuring as a Thought for the Day 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 Saving Mr. Banks. 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?

That 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!

Saving 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.

I 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.

I love so many moments in the movie - The Let's Go Fly a Kite 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 London - that scene is awfully warm and the performances are remarkable.

I 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 Sherman 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.

People 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.  

"That's what we story tellers do. We restore order with imagination. We instill hope again and again and again."

- Walt Disney

Hope. 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.