"Love someone Anwar, then you will know the truth of life."*

Living your life with love doesn't mean loving every one you come across to infinite insanity and back, it means to treat everyone with kindness. It has taken me a long, long, damn bloody long time to realise how unequivocally intertwined love and kindness are. Don't get me wrong, I was never a cruel person and I would never like to be so. But I never realised how much the best expressed form of love is kindness (although, of course, I would like to think I have been doing that throughout my life...). To love, really love, takes time and trust, but to be kind to everyone takes nothing, and yet the act says it right there and then, out loud, "I have love for you, and I want to share it with you and show you I care."

PS: Along with intelligence, I find kindness the single most attractive feature in a man. Why is being nice so under-rated?!

* The title is in reference to a dialogue from the Bollywood movie, Anwar.

On being 16 and turning 23...

Birthdays always have a way of bringing out the inner ponderer and 'reflection-er' in ourselves. What used to be a highly anticipated day turns into a long-dreaded day - the day from whence the number you tell people in reference to your age becomes that one digit higher. And of course, numbers on their own are often meaningless (and sometimes even within a social context, they are still meaningless... society, how complex thou art...), but the realisation they represent that you are well and truly in the realm of being an adult is what makes it so huge to me. I am, touchwood, extremely grateful for every day I get to be on this Earth and for the love I feel every day in my life, but being an adult is Goddamnshit crazy scary! I'm sorry, there is no eloquent way to phrase that sentiment, as far as I am concerned.

I was talking to a friend today, about getting older. He is two years older than me and he, I swear to God, still sees me as that naive nineteen year old kid I was when I first met him on the steps of our university campus's main square. He was musing over the ludicrosity of me being twenty three, amazed at how that naive, jumpy nineteen year old is going to be leading the life of a twenty three year old in the big smoke. It is indeed an odd thought. Maybe.

However, my answer to his musings was this: age has nothing to do with maturity, rather it is about gaining life experiences enough to equip oneself to survive the complexities of an ever increasingly entropic world. That is to say, I am still 'immature' and 'mature' (whatever the hell these words mean...) all within a matter of minutes, and while this expression of self is within my control, the external influences that shape my daily life do not wait for me but rather depend on my ability to learn to co-exist with their forces. And growing up is about understanding better with each passing year how to handle the complexities of greater responsibilities and rights, that enable us to be a part of this ecosystem called Life. Whether you behave like an 'adult' or like a 'child' is immaterial - that is a personal evolution and is far too complex to attach an consensual number to. (And, more importantly, we must ask - does it need a number attached to it?)

Going through this logic (well, it SEEMS like logic to me... make of it what you will!) brings me some comfort that the dreaded two and three next to one another need not be so dreaded after all. I have a tendency to live in the past and I will miss the past with each increasing year, but perhaps that is exactly what 'maturity' is about - accepting that as the years unfurl, the distance between the sixteen-year-old-you and the just-very-very-old-you keeps increasing. However much you try and hold on to that thread that binds you to what you once were, in those seemingly perfect, rose-tinted visions of days, there needs to be a time when you accept defeat that the thread is very, very thin now and it is OK to let it snap because the memories are yours and no one except Mr. Alzheimer can take them away from you now. Accepting that the laughter and the tears are all your souvenirs, now. You no longer need to try so hard to grip that thread so hard. Really.

But hey, who says I am mature now, eh? Whatever! Haha!

PS: Don't you just love the word 'entropy'? When I was sixteen and sitting in a Chemistry class on a winter's morning, my Chemistry teacher (who I still see as one of the best teachers I have ever had) tried to explain the concept of entropy to us. More than its scientific and physical value, I remember being so intrigued by its philosophical value. She used an excerpt from Stephen Hawking's 'A Brief History of Time' to highlight the application of entropy in life to us, which I want to end this blog post on. This is brilliant reflection for anyone reading this.

"Imagine a cup of water falling off a table and breaking into pieces on the floor. If you take a film of this, you can easily tell whether it is being run forward or backward. If you run it backward you will see the pieces suddenly gather themselves together off the floor and jump back to form a whole cup on the table. You can tell that the film is being run backward because this kind of behavior is never observed in ordinary life. If it were, crockery manufacturers would go out of business.

The explanation that is usually given as to why we don’t see broken cups gathering themselves together off the floor and jumping back onto the table is that it is forbidden by the second law of thermodynamics. This says that in any closed system disorder, or entropy, always increases with time. In other words, it is a form of Murphy’s law: things always tend to go wrong! An intact cup on the table is a state of high order, but a broken cup on the floor is a disordered state. One can go readily from the cup on the table in the past to the broken cup on the floor in the future, but not the other way round.

The increase of disorder or entropy with time is one example of what is called an arrow of time, something that distinguishes the past from the future, giving a direction to time. There are at least three different arrows of time. First, there is the thermodynamic arrow of time, the direction of time in which disorder or entropy increases. Then, there is the psychological arrow of time. This is the direction in which we feel time passes, the direction in which we remember the past but not the future. Finally, there is the cosmological arrow of time. This is the direction of time in which the universe is expanding rather than contracting."

 -- A Brief History of Time, Stephen Hawking (1988)

PPS: If my blog wasn't called 'Lost in Thoughts', I may well have called it 'Entropy'. Hmmm.

How to move on

Is it our core insecurities that stop us from moving on? I am not just talking about moving on from bonds once formed, but moving on from anything that has done us undeserved injustice. Sri Devi's speech at the end of English Vinglish noted how if we are feeling like the weaker side in a supposedly equal bond, we need to re-evaluate our own self's identity and fight for our own self's love. Then only can we expect to receive equal treatment from others. This really struck a chord with me, as I think it is really a wonderful lesson for life, and not just for a married couple about to embark on a lifetime of feeling superior and inferior.

There have been many situations in my own life where I have felt like the weaker side, and I have noticed the one common thread in all these unrelated situations is my own questioning at the end of a tiring day - 'Who am I?' Are personalities to be formed or to be discovered? Being an egocentric introvert has its positives; I take comfort in solitude, and love putting myself first. And as I sit staring at my New York City poster and reflect on feeling like the weaker side and formulate a plan to bring magic back into my life, I begin to realise why it is Goddamned difficult for me to move on: I am not yet where I want to be. 

And therein lies the problem - without being where we exactly want to be at this very moment, how are we expected to be satisfied enough with ourselves to move on? Quoting Lennon and McCartney, there's "nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be", and I think this is a difficult concept for the majority of us to grasp. We are always seeking something - that dream job, that dream romance, that dream travel experience, that dream friendship, that dream Kuch-Kuch-Hota-Hai-resemblant Karan Johar movie - and while I believe goals and passions are extremely important not just for our betterment but for our sanity, sometimes I find myself getting so lost in chasing that darned thing that I don't learn to just sit down and accept that this is the place where I am right now and there is magic here, too. I don't need to be doing that dream job in that dream city with the dream family to feel it.

Is there a difference between happiness and contentment? I used to think there was, that is I was merely content, but not happy. But aren't you content when you are happy? Aren't you happy when you are content? Can these emotions be considered to be psychological phenomena which we have the right to mould to our own expectations? Happiness, as I once understood it, was the ultimate experience, the utopia of all the tick boxes finally being checked off with a permanent marker with a conclusive strike. Contentment, however, was a pencil's rather unsure, confused mark on the box. Now, I am questioning my own theories. Aren't we happy because we say so and are so?

And when you are happy in the knowledge that this is precisely where you're meant to be, moving on becomes as easy to do as it is to say. Because the place you came from isn't the place you are in right now, and this reality becomes that much easier to accept. There can never be another Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. But instead, we have English Vinglish now. Perhaps eventually, like Sri Devi's character, we will all learn to move on to a stronger self by seeking our own happiness first.

'Jodi tor dak shune keu na ashe tobe ekla cholo re...'*

While yes, I love sunrises and the state of self-reflection they induce within me, there is still no feeling quite like sitting up at two in the morning, attempting work, and hearing the song you really needed to hear, come on shuffle from your music. Perfect.


Why is it perfect? Because over the past couple of weeks (months, even), I have been running around everywhere and facing a lot of sleepless nights and sleepy days (not unlike this very night) chasing work and homework and self-inflicted torture of extra work like a madwoman. And in between, I veg out in front of the TV or laptop and watch Modern Family and crush on Phil 'Dum-phy' (only a true Modern Family-ite will understand this...) guiltily. To add to the guilt, naturally, is a diet and lifestyle high in everything I am learning about is bad for me (except for smoking. Ew. Guess I'm not as badass as I sound after all, eh...). Good body image, you say? What's THAT?!


So of course, when you hear Amitabh Bachchan's voice telling you to stand tall and walk alone even if no one else heeds your voice, it is oddly extremely comforting. Extremely comforting and new-lease-of-inner-strength-inspiring. Especially so (did I mention?) at two in the morning, as you're making notes under a small desk lamp. I found myself stopping and just listening to the song, with my mind in blissful silence. More than anything, this song told me to pause from being an overworked (and never-paid) cog and remind myself of all the wonderful things I believe in, and must not give up on.


Something similar also happened to me yesterday, when I was driving back from another town and I decided to leave the motorway at an earlier junction to try and find the place where I go to for cheaper petrol through a different route. I had a lecture I needed to attend in forty minutes and I knew I was taking a cheeky gamble with exiting the motorway one junction earlier (countryside driving, if you are really unlucky, can equate to crawling slowly behind large tractors on one-way lanes), but I decided to do it anyway. Anything for cheaper petrol, right? 


As I try and find my exit on the roundabout, I accidentally end up driving into some sort of a holiday resort/hippie home resort/elderly people's retirement resort... place. I am still not entirely sure what it is! Frustrated at the time lost and cursing myself for taking the wrong turn, I drove along into the resort to try and find a place to reverse... and suddenly in front of me is a big, beautiful, blue lake, surrounded by the rich, lush greenery of nearby grass and expanding out into the horizon were hills in the background. I notice the sun is shining, and coming from the car's speakers is a trance song by Above and Beyond - 'Home'. I went into a trance myself. You must remember that I have been living in the hospital, with machines and people all around me, and it has been ages - Absolutely. Freaking. Ages. - since I had seen nature around me.

I stepped out and goshdarnit - actually breathed for the first time in a long time. The car window was still open, and I could hear the lyrics "the sunset builds a memory, our love sign... and all at sea we come alive" being sung. It was blissful, and it felt like my little secret. And to find all this purely by accident made it all the more magical. Some wine and a good book and I would happily have set up camp right there. 

But alas, I had a lecture to drag my ass to.


However, the moral of the two stories remains the same - don't give up, walking alone can lead you to discover what it was you needed all along. (And of course, always listen to inspirational music at two in the morning - this one is for the fellow insomniacs...)

* Loose translation, as I am led to understand: 'if they answer not to thy call, walk alone'

"Funny how such seemingly inconsequential things go a long way in maturing us"

Look at the bigger picture.
Let go.
Find happiness within yourself.
Be brave.
Don't smother people.
Give people the same freedom and independence you would want yourself.

It's OK to have blah days, where the magic seems to have gone.

Sheesh, why does no one ever teach us this stuff... so much discovering to do, so little time to blog about it all. :)

The title of this blog post was said to me years ago. For some odd reason, I am finding a lot of comfort in those words right now, perhaps because I can relate to the inconsequential. It's not so scary any more, once you say it out loud - inconsequential. You never know how far it can go in maturing you.

Oh boy, being strong is hard work. Thank fuck for a sense of humour to see it through!

Notes on Anwar

NB: SPOILERS

When I read other reviews for this film, a fair number of people said the storyline kept wandering off and they got annoyed. I am curious to know what people found meandering... except for Rajpal Yadav's role, I couldn't see any diversions. And the movie only lasted 2.5 hours! I thought all the characters were there for a reason. I thought all the storylines (except Yadav's, it just got annoying hearing him whinge) were there for a reason.

I will probably end up buying its DVD, because the songs, Maula Mere and Tose Naina Lage are extremely special to me.

I loved the movie for what it was - a messy presentation of a messy life. I loved the way every message was laid out, yet subtle. I loved how the film was extremely neutral and normal. It wasn't trying to teach its audience a message about certain religions, and it wasn't out to make you think in any one way when you come out of the movie, which is what I think often happens when Bollywood does a serious/off-beat/social message type kinda movie. You had to pick it up to understand it - no voiceovers, no dramatic speeches, no subtle explanations thinly veiled in the garb of 'everyday dialogue' - it was like a CCTV camera decided to show the fates of all these lives, and you yourself had to teach yourself how people work, how life works, how crowds work, how politicians work, how different people treating different people in different ways works... even how love works.

In the sense of love, for me, it was highly reminiscent of Love Actually, in the way it showed how all the characters - at the core of all their problems and lifestyles, just yearned for love.

I loved how they made absolutely minimal use of music - especially the evident lack of dramatic music for the dramatic moments (so typical of cinema - be it Hollywood or Bollywood). There were so many scenes that had scope for dramatic music, and they were just shown so simply. The flutes at the beginning and the end are hauntingly beautiful. I have an absolute soft spot for the flute, it is one of my most favourite instruments to listen to, and the tune they played was just - wah. I think, of course, the real, most commercially apparent strong point of this movie is the songs. No words can describe Maula Mere and Javeda Zindagi. (As a side note: I always think it is so sad Maula Mere gets played on Bollywood channels as it has pretty visuals, but Javeda Zindagi - far superior to Maula Mere in its poetic beauty in every way - doesn't because it shows the last shots of a dead man with blood oozing out of him in the rain... and the end credits. I have pretty much never seen it being played. So sad. Although it's pretty good that a song from a practically un-noticed movie has made it to the Bollywood channels, I guess.) Dilbar Mera is a song that grows on you, too. I can't get over how natural this movie is. So natural it may go over the viewers' head as a movie worth watching.

I enjoyed the way the characters developed. Sure, the Hindu guy could have done with more presentation of his character, but he wasn't [i]as[/i] pivotal to the movie, so I guess it's OK. I appreciated the way it wasn't glaringly or blatantly obvious what kind of a guy Anwar was, but you could see it in his actions - the number of shots of him just lying on his bed, lost in thoughts, the sketches he spent hours drawing, the way he behaved towards Master Pasha... Anwar reminded me a little bit of me. I loved Master Pasha's role. I don't know if it's a believable or an unbelievable role, but I loved it all the same.

A huge mention has to go to the cinematography/settings/props/costumes people. Never before - no seriously - have I seen such realistic sets. Even the impressive sets of Lagaan and Dor, showing village life, seemed a tad too glamorous in comparison to this movie's sets/settings. This movie kind of came at the right time for me, as I have been missing India very much of late, and seeing all the minor things, the attention to minor detail, and the fact that everything was so realistic, made me feel "right at home". The settings are not made for obvious beauty that makes (at least I feel it does) the film more appealing to the Indian audience, instead they were messy lanes, peeling paint, cloth covering holes in the structures of buildings... they had a raw, natural beauty of their own. The sunrises and sunsets (well, I HAD to comment on this, and notice it, me being me...) were heavenly. Not fake or obvious special effects, but still sweet additions to the background of the movie.

The dialogues in this film were very interesting. Both interesting in the sense of how they can be analysed, and how they were just interesting. One thing I enjoyed was the way the Master Pasha spoke about love. It was not done in an over-the-top Shah-Rukh-Khan-proclaiming-his-love-to-the-fields way (and I LOVE that way, too). I would say it bordered on cheesy, but who isn't cheesy in their real lives every now and then? And in any case, he's an absolutely bonkers guy. I reckon only he could have gotten away with wittering on about love the way he did. And all of what he said made sense, which was what I also loved. It wasn't a flowers-blossom-and-red-feels-nice-and-rains-make-me-horny kind of dialogue, it was a straightforward, cheesy declaration of how love gives us life. And I loved it [i]for[/i] its naturalness and rawness, and the way I could relate to it. I cannot tell whether the other dialogues are realistic and accurate to the nature of how its real-life counterparts would speak, but I felt they sounded fairly realistic.

This movie is not straightforward. There isn't a voiceover or dramatic music to keep you going and making you watch it. The storyline will either be interpreted as a part of a life thing, or as no real substantial storyline that was poorly developed. It is not a fairytale Bollywood. Hell, it doesn't even match up to some of the more serious and intelligent films that Bollywood has done. It is what it is, and if you watch it, watch it with a willingness to let your mind wander and think about the issues and scenes they are presenting. I have no clue what the director wanted from this movie, or what he wanted us to feel, but I think as long as it leaves you thinking, about [i]some[/i] Godforsaken thing or the other, the movie has achieved its purpose. I'm pretty sure the director would have understood it wasn't going to be Bollywood blockbuster of the year, anyway.

Just enjoy the music and see where the story takes you. You may like it; you may not. I liked it.

Post Secret...

... y'all should check it out. www.postsecret.blogspot.com

Post Secret is one obsession that has stayed with me... oooh, for the past three years? Or so. (I've even asked my friend to buy one of the Post Secret books as a birthday present, to prove my obsession...) It's a blog mainted by a Frank Warren, that is updated every Sunday with secrets from people around the world, that are sent on the back of a post card. The more creative, the better. Such a simple idea, and such an addictive blog, too. Every Sunday it's my happy day because I get Post Secret and Desperate Housewives all in one go... ha ha ha. It's definitely worth checking out.

I am never entirely sure how many of these are real, and how many are made up, and whether they were even sent in or not. But I'm not sure it really matters. The complete range of secrets you read makes it so easy to be pulled into it. Even the simple black background of the web page makes it so easy to be pulled into it. And believe you me, there WILL be a secret or two that you can relate to. Some are funny, some are witty, some are full of pain and some are sheer confessions of the little bitch inside all of us... but they always make a good read. And the sort of dramatically artistic way in which they are presented makes each one stand out well, too.

I have always thought of sending a secret in. Whenever I actively think about it, I cannot think of anything other than something... boring. But that's kind of boring, isn't it? :D And I'm not sure it even deserves another thought in my mind, let alone me pouring it all out creatively into a postcard and sending it all the way to Post Secret! I lead such a boring life! However, when I don't think about it at all, a random, crazy, possibly unsuitable-for-kids thought crosses my mind and I think, "How cool would it be to send THAT in to Post Secret!" This kind of in-my-head monologue almost always ends in a caring-but-dismissive "one day, one day"... oh dear.

But, well, one day indeed (touchwood and all that jazz...)! Below is one of my favourite Post Secrets, it seems extra, extra apropos these days... hmm. However, on that note, I should probably bring this blog post to a close as I have nothing more to say than, "Oh my God please check Post Secret out it is so awesome and a must-read for everyone!" :-)