new place

so its a new job and a new city for me. so much different from the small job and the small city i left behind. feeling a lot like an uprooted plant. formal dressing, formal people. there is not much intimacy. and its difficult to be intimate when we use alien languages.

Malena

One scene of this movie just made my blood cold. I was like shivering
even though the climate was pretty hot. The scene has a bunch of
women beating up this young widow malena (monica bellucci) who is
almost naked, dragging her down a set of step with her breasts to the
floor, kicking her, slapping her, and finally cutting her hair to
shreds. The reason for the outrage is 1) malena is georgious 2)she is
a widow on lookout for married men 3) she slept with the invading
germans (the place is italy).
The movie cannot be termed realistic and the theme is a young boy
falling madly in love with malena. The whole of the town shows their
unshameful admiration to malena who is waiting for the return of her
husband from war front. Every one in town gossips about malena and our
hero is the only fellow who knows that malena is a faithful wife
waiting for her husband. The movie starts with mussolinis call for war
and the whole of town seems to be lot supportive about it. After the
death of her husband malena looses her resolve and has some suitors
who left her with more disgrace and later she is even shown sleeping
around for food. The beautiful malena who lives in a large house
having random suitors to meet her basic needs looks unreal but we dont
have much idea what all war can bring on to a society.
After the liberation of the town from the nazis by americans the first
mentioned scene enacts and after that malena leaves the town. Out
little hero is a mute witness to all these events. All the while
except when she is beaten up malena has a cold face, we never see her
smile, cry, just one single emotion of blankness. Dont know what it
signifies. And after that malenas husband comes back from death and
what meets him in his home town is people who wont talk to him. The
film has kinda a happy ending with a strong note made by our young
hero who gives a clear perspective of the events to malenas' husband
through a letter and with their reunion in the city. I really loved
seeing malena and husband walking hand in hand in the same town(though
her expression is cold as before).
Finally we have malena being welcomed by the town women when she goes
to the market and she reciprocating in the same way. Like once she has
regained her social validity she is forgiven. Looked really sick to
me.

Irresistible

I was reading this blog on Life at tj's place and there was on article where the fellow fall in love with his barber. I remember a similar scene in Friends where chandler in in love with joey's girl friend and that girl was too good looking. And there is a point where she gives him a hair cut. God a pretty woman touching your hair. That is irresistible.

towards main stream.

What do one do when he sees something wrong.
The option that i use normally is to think. To think whether i would do that mistake myself. If the answer is yes i wont do anything. First be correct then correct. I would think.
The most generally used option is to correct it.
I used to hate a friend of mine who practices the latter method but lately i am thinking of going for the second option.
Reasons:
1) i am never going to change anything.
2) somebody who doesnt change anything (be it for the good or for the bad) is never considered significant.
3)its better to make some good changes.

A conversations with a friend(f) who is a large scale hypocrite.

Conversation (1)
f: All these soaps that are shown on the tv should be banned.
me: What happened.
f: You know they are changing the way our women behave. They are wasting their time. They are not spending time talking to neighbours, talking to family etc.
me: So.
f: We should ban them.

Conversation (2)
me: Porn movies should be banned.
f: Why.
me: Just like you said soaps are affecting women porn has the worst effect on our whole society.
f: NO. Porn doesn't do any thing.Its just fine.
me: Fuck you. Porn is one factor that is bringing so much sleaze into our minds. Its one rawest form of cultural infiltration. ( that is one point that hits him, he hates all cultural infiltrations except those done by russia)
f: May be you are correct. But dont think of banning it. They will kill you. Or may be i will kill you.
me: I know.

Conversation (3)
me: You tell me that you like seeing voyeur pictures on net. Dont you feel any guilt about it.
f: No. I believe that teenagers love to expose their body. There is no problem with us viewing them. Its in our nature.
me: Then you didnt like those fashion shows in our college. Then you said that exposing is bad.
f: hey friend that is not that. It is blatant copying of foreign culture. Its bad.
me: Lost all control and laughed for the next 5 minutes.

You know hypocrisy lot of fun.

Another of my friendships is falling apart and the reason is too much closeness. And i feel a lot of doubts in such situations. This habit of mine helps me in keeping only a few friends despite many warm friendships. I would like to tell him now - the closer you get to me the farrer you are going to end up.
And then what i got is an inteview this week. I am wholly excited and what do i see on sunday express weekly forecast. They say that i wont get that opportunity. For the first time i got totally sad about being superstitional. Still some optimism remains.

(fuck the damn mother fuckers who did this.)

(mother fucking)Militants cut off girl's ears

CHANDAKODE, India: Writhing in pain in the back of an ambulance in this small village in Kashmir, 22-year-old Mariam Begum yesterday told how Islamic (mother fucking) militants had hacked off her ears and nose with a "crude sharp-edged weapon".

"I begged for mercy when I lost one of my ears but they (the mother fuckers) finished the task of cutting off my nose and the other ear within five minutes," Begum told reporters. "They (the mother fuckers) used a crude sharp-edged weapon." Begum said she and her father, Mohammed Ibrahim, 52, were kidnapped from their home in Mano village, Doda district, some 200km southeast of the region's winter capital Jammu, by militants on June 16.

They were held in captivity until finally being rescued by Indian paramilitary and police personnel on July 10.

"The (mother fucking) kidnappers wanted to avenge the surrender of Mohammed Lateef (Begum's brother), an activist of the Hizbul Mujahideen (rebel group) before the Indian security forces on June 9," a police spokesman said.

Begum, bleeding from her wounds as the ambulance transported her to Jammu where she was to be admitted to a local hospital, recounted her harrowing tale.

"My father and I were dragged at gun point to a forest belt where we were kept in separate sheds.

"There were six (mother fucking) militants and two of them (the mother fuckers) would torture me turn by turn. I was beaten with rifle butts, my hands and legs were tied up and they (the mother fuckers) used to burn me with live cigarette ends."

a little dream

life of people in the novel "the good terrorist" by doris lessing

to be a squatter in a large city. living illegally in a house whose latrine holes are concreted by government to prevent easy living for squatters. shitting in plastic buckets in the top floor. paying no rent to any body. taking bath in the urban trains' latrine. doing no work. other than being radical or slightly leftist or "being nothing - living the life to the fullest with drugs with ones eccentricities".

adaptated to suit me
to be a squatter in a large city. living illegally in a house whose latrine holes are concreted by government to prevent easy living for squatters. shitting in plastic buckets in the top floor. paying no rent to any body. taking bath in the urban trains' latrine. doing some work during day. other times spent by being social worker who is slightly leftist or "being nothing - living the life to the fullest with ones friends - ones passion - with ones eccentricities".

feeling myself
i can feel every muscle in my body today. after some unexpected physical action every inch of me is in pain. and i who have long forgot them all has started to love them again. i feel like feeling them. planning to go to gym. ie it.

les miserables again

when i read the part where eponine tells marius her secrets, for a second i was inclined to think that eponine must be jealous of cosette, inorder to drive her away by giving warning to jean valjean. but then i regretted the whole thought. eponine is never capable of such a lousy emotion as jealousy. she loved marius. to such extends that she protects his love cosette who is her rival. and that too playing on her life. how noble she is like her own brother gavroche. they like gold purified in fire and for poverty took the place of fire.

happy ness of freedom

she saw the tiny glitter in the heap
and her eyes lit up
with her tiny hand she started digging
until sweat rolled on to her brows
she was alone in the junk yard
and she never knew about god

slowly she sat down in the shit
with her vacant eyes she poked the sky
she started feeling the chill of the night
and she embraced herself for some heat
she had no strings attached to her
she was free in this world

When most of us are crying about the chains that bound them i thought
of this little girl. I saw her picture in a news paper some time
before. But after writing down the lines i think that the picture
could have told a lot more.

les miserables

i am rereading the great book these days. the first time i read the book i cried with fantine, for cosette, once or twice with jean val jean and a lot for eponine. the suffering was the greatest for the first three but i loved eponine.
fantine had a very unique way of talking. like if i would meet her today i am going to recognize her from her speech. she died yesterday.

pain speaks

hear that noise
of the chains tightening
and those voice of bondage
beckoning you to the trap
why do you complain
as you chose to be trapped

the walls are getting closer
and whats lost is precious
cheer up buddy
perversive mind speak
why do you cry
as you chose these for you

you want to look good
yeah go on and do that smile
you want to help him
and get kicked later
you know its futile
but you wont stop from the try

go on buddy
you are fucked for this life

Scenario: A thickly crowded bus.
Characters: Me(me) and a young female co-passenger(yfc).
Props: Two bananas wrapped in newspaper and tied with a rubber band.
Category: Fiction.

yfc is standing in front of me and we are standing very close due to the rush.

yfc(turns around): do you have two dicks.
me: no, why?
yfc: because i think you are rubbing my ass with them.
me: oh, i am sorry, but they are two bananas. its my break fast you are talking about.
yfc: sorry.
me: why?
yfc: that you have such a terrible break fast.
me: what would you have made me.
yfc: hot doshas and chatni.
me(kneels down): will you marry me.

The rain continues and i am having clear dreams these days. I just thought of recording one here.
I am walking through a regular lane and lot of intuitions hit me. I have this strong conviction that they are going to be true. Later i see these two little girls playing with their toys and then they get critically injured just from those simple toys. The next scene i see these three women( i remember them as movie stars) using these girls as oracles. Their hands are terribly wounded and these women press those tiny hands to inflict more pain so that these girls tells them their future.
I know it is a bit horrible thing to dream. Dont think that i am having such thoughts on my own. I think these images are inspired by the precogs in minority report. When i saw the movie some time before the idea of trapping three women into a comatose state for predicting crime stirred me.
And the second thing is about women being portrayed as doing this cruelty. I always have this prejudice that women could be more cruel than men. My own teachers instill such a feeling in me. They used to beat us brutally while the men folk were always gentler. On second thoughts male teachers also used to beat us brutally but only after we were old enough to take it. While the female teachers were indiscriminate.

A few days before i was thinking how it would be like to live without electricity these days and when i go home i see that the power line to our lane is broken, thanks to the good rain and weak trees. For the last two nights we are out of power and i tell you its not that bad. The rain ensures that you wont suffer the heat and a candle ensures your daily quota of reading.
The most creepy thing is to go out in total darkness to get water out of the well. The mixture of rain and darkness is truly enticing as well as terrifying. I thank the rain gods for all these experiences and for giving us enough water to cover the rest of summer.

bhopal hunger strike

Yesterday night i saw agnus' home. I got the glimpse of inside through the window and i knew it was close to my imagination of agnus' home. The house has got protruding bedrooms and is tiled. The room that i saw was lit with warm yellow light and it was definitely cozy. Coming back to reality the house belong to a couple whom i supect to be software engineers. The night was a little chilly and that may have tickled my head because i started talking to myself animatedly and stopped only until i saw a family staring at me from their porch.

Low flying has its disadvantages. Like hitting the ground accidentally. There is nothing like that at a higher level. In fact i hit the ground too hard one of these days. Still kinda recovering.

i need to talk and there is no one around.
it looks like i am the last man in the world.
where are you my friend.