Saw the movie and I can't remember when I loved a movie moment after moment...so much.....recently!
A must watch. Truly.
Yeah...yeah....it's an adaptation, or a lift....whatever...but the adaptation seemed really well-made, there being no extra dialogues, the casting couldn't have got any better (I Love Milind Soman.....I just love him.....yes, I said Milind Soman. Absolutely sexy and so..........*sigh*.. droolable!), above all, the execution was suited well ...to seem Indian.
When was humour so humane?
Even if you don't like me or don't like my likes, do watch the movie. This time, you won't regret it!
(Clue: when did you last see me gushing about anything or anyone in the planet?)
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
random questions
Finally, I hit on that most used and cliched word--"random"--of bloggerworld.
Though it's not really random, nothing is. NOTHING. Everything can be traced, but probably when we do not choose to/don't know how to trace, we use this most comforting cover of "random" and act in another of innumerable ways of being lazy and/or indifferent and express our hurt emotions, I guess.
Whatever, after this badly drafted justification, here's some of my random questions. Put forth for anybody who's still listening (I don't find anybody, by the way, and the reason has to lie more with the chance probability of my ill-destined luck than with the quality of this blog or the time-gap arrangement of potential and/or actual readers).
1. Why do we not call some friends we always remember and miss, especially when we're feeling miserable?
2. Why do English-medium bred Indian girls speak English in an accent that has very little gaps between the words? (Corollary question: does it sound very urban and more uptown? really, what's with the gap??)
3. Why don't we taste the flavour/seasoning when we chew chips as against when we lick them and then chew? (Try slowly chewing them.....even then the difference of tasting the flavour will exist between just chewing them and licking-before-chewing)
4. Why can't we say what we want to say? (even when the listener is listening and is most empathetic,/ sympathetic,/ friendly,/ unassuming,/ un-harming)
5. Why do, we (some, not all) drink water without touching the bottle with our mouth, knowing fully well nobody will be asking for water from our bottle (in a foreign land)? Is it habit? unconscious decision? or hope?
6. Why are some questions formatted in a profound way but are the most parochial? Like, "how are you?"
7. How does retaining old bills/old tickets in our purses, pockets, bags, ......help us (in any way?)
8. Why don't we never buy toothpicks but never fail to take one in eateries/restaurants after a meal? Are restaurant meals always successful in sticking something between our teeth?
Answers would be appreciated.
Attempts to answer them would be applauded.
And you know the rest.............don't you?
Though it's not really random, nothing is. NOTHING. Everything can be traced, but probably when we do not choose to/don't know how to trace, we use this most comforting cover of "random" and act in another of innumerable ways of being lazy and/or indifferent and express our hurt emotions, I guess.
Whatever, after this badly drafted justification, here's some of my random questions. Put forth for anybody who's still listening (I don't find anybody, by the way, and the reason has to lie more with the chance probability of my ill-destined luck than with the quality of this blog or the time-gap arrangement of potential and/or actual readers).
1. Why do we not call some friends we always remember and miss, especially when we're feeling miserable?
2. Why do English-medium bred Indian girls speak English in an accent that has very little gaps between the words? (Corollary question: does it sound very urban and more uptown? really, what's with the gap??)
3. Why don't we taste the flavour/seasoning when we chew chips as against when we lick them and then chew? (Try slowly chewing them.....even then the difference of tasting the flavour will exist between just chewing them and licking-before-chewing)
4. Why can't we say what we want to say? (even when the listener is listening and is most empathetic,/ sympathetic,/ friendly,/ unassuming,/ un-harming)
5. Why do, we (some, not all) drink water without touching the bottle with our mouth, knowing fully well nobody will be asking for water from our bottle (in a foreign land)? Is it habit? unconscious decision? or hope?
6. Why are some questions formatted in a profound way but are the most parochial? Like, "how are you?"
7. How does retaining old bills/old tickets in our purses, pockets, bags, ......help us (in any way?)
8. Why don't we never buy toothpicks but never fail to take one in eateries/restaurants after a meal? Are restaurant meals always successful in sticking something between our teeth?
Answers would be appreciated.
Attempts to answer them would be applauded.
And you know the rest.............don't you?
Saturday, May 5, 2007
from a rainy, foggy, gloomy morning experience
This morning after I got up and decided not to drink coffee even though my eyes were stinging, I was standing on my balcony (without any warm covers). For 20 or more minutes. This was the second time after I moved into this apartment last October. The occasion was not warm. It was the usual minus 1 degree, raining tip-tapped-ly, with the sky looking gloomy as usual.......and the fog hanging just 1 km over my head... I guess.
Yet, somehow it looked different and didn't make me feel gloomy. (Yes, the weather does have an effect on you, howsoever spoiled it might sound. To beat me, consider coming and staying in Calgary)
After two or rather four months from now........I would probably not stand here like this. Probably I wouldn't come back here...to the hills, to sigh at the bony trees and watching the grass getting eatably green to greener, to look at the mass of cars following each other day and night, to count the percentage of red cars and blue ones among Calgarians from a 16th floor window.....ever in my life. The place that I despise of so often--so evident through my rantings in this blog--would cease to be part of me.
Yet, I wasn't feeling a sense of peace or any distant whiff of happiness.
I realized I wouldn't have this freedom...and variations thereof, from freedom to cook at 3 in the morning to freedom in judging the same scene from my kitchen window differently and feeling justified in doing so.
Sometimes I crave for being seen in certain identity brackets; and sometimes I would like to resist in being judged only through particular identity brackets. I know that cakes can't be had and eaten too, except by the lucky, deserving, bold and beautiful people.
I just wish I fitted in one of these labels. I was called the third (stated above) quite a large section of my life, past years,.. that is. And then I realized there's more to heroism than boldness. Time or age? I can't tell which made me realize this.....at the extent of sounding cliched once again, ......I would say a bit of both, the former one in greater measure perhaps.
To put it very flatly, the exchange rate of blessings and/or other forces in my life has always been too less or too intense freedom. The one or the other identities. Me not liking it hadn't been able to change the states of being I've gone through.
This of course has pleased some persons I call "friends", but it hasn't made me self-deprecating.
Here I am......able to philosophize on workings of "fate" albeit all my mights and attempts against its operations.........with enough doses of fuzzy peach candy slices.
Candytherapy works.
(I hope you were not looking for some other morale of the story)
Yet, somehow it looked different and didn't make me feel gloomy. (Yes, the weather does have an effect on you, howsoever spoiled it might sound. To beat me, consider coming and staying in Calgary)
After two or rather four months from now........I would probably not stand here like this. Probably I wouldn't come back here...to the hills, to sigh at the bony trees and watching the grass getting eatably green to greener, to look at the mass of cars following each other day and night, to count the percentage of red cars and blue ones among Calgarians from a 16th floor window.....ever in my life. The place that I despise of so often--so evident through my rantings in this blog--would cease to be part of me.
Yet, I wasn't feeling a sense of peace or any distant whiff of happiness.
I realized I wouldn't have this freedom...and variations thereof, from freedom to cook at 3 in the morning to freedom in judging the same scene from my kitchen window differently and feeling justified in doing so.
Sometimes I crave for being seen in certain identity brackets; and sometimes I would like to resist in being judged only through particular identity brackets. I know that cakes can't be had and eaten too, except by the lucky, deserving, bold and beautiful people.
I just wish I fitted in one of these labels. I was called the third (stated above) quite a large section of my life, past years,.. that is. And then I realized there's more to heroism than boldness. Time or age? I can't tell which made me realize this.....at the extent of sounding cliched once again, ......I would say a bit of both, the former one in greater measure perhaps.
To put it very flatly, the exchange rate of blessings and/or other forces in my life has always been too less or too intense freedom. The one or the other identities. Me not liking it hadn't been able to change the states of being I've gone through.
This of course has pleased some persons I call "friends", but it hasn't made me self-deprecating.
Here I am......able to philosophize on workings of "fate" albeit all my mights and attempts against its operations.........with enough doses of fuzzy peach candy slices.
Candytherapy works.
(I hope you were not looking for some other morale of the story)
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