Inspiration can come from many many quarters... Like last Sunday, a duck inspired me to think of ways to make my life more meaningful! (Not kidding- but keeping THAT story for later...)
I have been inspired by many books, quite a few people, some movies,very very few movie-makers and actors. The last is partly because many actors receive their due from society much more than teachers, social workers, doctors and most other people who are much more deserving. In fact, many actors don't even deserve the praise they get right now, so maybe I am a lot more disillusioned about the movie industry's "struggle" in general.
Of course, once in a while, you find that one person who is an exception and is inspiring. Very rarely you find two people (or an entire crew) that is.
But if this isn't inspiring- I don't know what is!- (Link)
P.S: I realized that many people might not get why I was inspired by this interview (not just the movie!). So here goes:
- The commitment he had to do all the research it took to make a great movie.
- The intelligence to differentiate between slapstick and innocence. Seriously, it's great there is ONE sensible filmmaker.
- The fact that he knew what he was doing and worked to create a piece of art that became what he wanted it to (which is one of the most difficult things about art!)- "This is a story about how India’s independence was also a dark moment.
About the lost childhood of Milkha. About growing up to become a
forgotten hero." and "The screenplay had to be kept fluid at all times, so that everyone could bring in their own interpretation."
- Farhan Akhtar (-need I say more?)
I am sharing what 'I Saw and I Learnt' at BlogAdda.com in association with DoRight.in.
This is my entry for the "I saw I learnt" contest. I'm not much of a contest writer, and this is probably not the winning entry types. However, I loved the topic and thought it was something worth writing about...
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Prologue:
Some would say that I have been lucky- I have many role models around me (including my father and grandfather) from whom I learnt many values: honesty, perseverance, optimism and everything else that management gurus claim to be the recipe for success. And some might say, I just try to learn what I can from everyone. Whichever may be the case, there is one incident that taught me an invaluable lesson...
*****
The Logue??! :P
It was one of those hot Chennai evenings, when you want the breeze but when you get it, the wind blowing is too hot and you want it to stop. I was in my 4th or 5th grade then and I had run down to the small provision-cum-stationery store to get India and world maps for school and bread and bananas. We never had the concept of pocket money in my family, so my mother had given me the exact change required for getting everything. I was in a hurry to get everything so I could leave them back at home and go play with my friends. Besides, I had quietly slipped in a 1 Re extra from my piggybank savings with which I hoped to get an Eclairs toffee, but I wanted to do it quickly because I was scared of getting caught.
You might think that getting a toffee for 1Re is no crime at all, especially when it's from your own savings, but at that time, I felt very dishonest doing it because I hadn't asked my mother's permission. From my point of view it was a huge moral crisis. Anyway, I just wanted to get it over with real quick.
The shopkeeper was a very nice helpful old man who was quietly enthusiastic about everything. I just told him the list of things I needed and he put everything in a plastic cover and gave me. The total must have been about 20-25Rs. Since my mother had given me the right change I just handed him the folded notes and coins (along with my 1 Re) and turned to run back home. I must have taken only a step or two when the old man called me.
I wanted to die that minute. Or vanish out of existence. I thought he had surely found out I was cheating my mom. 'He knows that I didn't get permission. Now he is going to tell mom the next time she comes and she is not going to ever let me buy anything. Or worse, she might go complain to my teacher like she always threatened and the teacher would tell everyone that I was a bad kid. I was the kid who bought chocolate with stolen money.' "Thief! Thief!" I could hear everyone laughing at me.
Before my reverie got any more torturous, however, I had turned and the old man was handing me a 100Rs note. "I think you put it there by mistake, little girl", he said with a smile, "You should be VERY careful with money!"
Yes, HE was returning ME money that my mother had forgetfully placed between the folded 1Re and 5Rs notes! I unthinkingly spluttered "But you didn't have to call me to return it. If you had kept it with yourself, nobody would have known!"
"Of course noone would have known, paapa (Tamil for baby/small girl)! But what's the use of being honest only when everyone is watching? There is no honesty in not stealing when you are being watched- that is just plain cunning. Honesty is when you know nobody will ever find out and you might even be punished for your actions but you still decide to do the right thing."
I returned the Eclairs. I didn't want it anymore.
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Epilogue
It was one of those mild Santa Clara evenings when the breeze hugs you with love. I was browsing while taking a break from work and I had just seen a contest on BlogAdda- "I saw, I learnt". I tried to think of one real life incident that had an impact on me; other than the stories of various people in my family who had struggled their way up, other than the wonderful lessons that they had taught me- not through single discernible actions, but through a way of life. I could not think of any one incident- well, I could just make one up!
So, I thought of the one life lesson I had learned and then created an incident out of my imagination to communicate the lesson. The lesson was that you are truly honest only when you did something right though nobody would have found out. After all, I knew there was no way for anyone to verify what I wrote.
And then, I suddenly realized- so I decided to add the epilogue.
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Some would say I have still not learned the lesson if I wrote the story at all. And some might say I needn't have admitted it- simply because it was a very nice story. Whichever may be the case, I had to do this because I really believe in that kind of honesty.
And of course, because I like recursion.
And today is the 31st post of the one-month challenge.
Whew! On one side, I can't believe I actually reached this point- I often thought I was definitely going to give up. On the other side, I can't believe I wasn't writing everyday a month ago and I'm almost sorry it's over (I don't have an excuse to force myself to write everyday anymore)! Talk about habit formation!
I won't say I enjoyed every minute of the journey. I didn't. But it was like a good workout. You hate it because it kills you while you are doing it. And yet, you feel very good afterward because you survived it. There were definitely days when I'd rather have slept than written. And yet, once I finished the post, I felt very good. And there were times when I didn't know what to write: when I would just keep thinking, 'What next?' At other times I could think of lots of topics but none I wanted to write about then. (That's when I realized why I shouldn't blame newspaper reporters for writing poorly once in a while).
The good thing is this exercise got me back to writing regularly, and has made me write more concisely. It has also made me read a lot more, and more importantly, made me realize yet again that I can find time for something if I want to.
I also got some good feedback both on the blog and on fb (and also on chat)- thank you for that! It really encourages me to go on.
One small technicality. Some of you might have noticed I actually started the challenge on June 5th. How is it a "one-month" challenge if I took till July 18th? Well, by the end of the first week itself I realized it's impossible for me to write weekends, mostly because I am outside then. So, I skipped all the weekends and tried to make it just weekdays, thus changing the 1 month-challenge to a 31-weekday challenge. Ya, it's not optimal, but I really needed the weekends.
For that matter, I tried to think up topics one day before and give teasers, but that didn't work either (partly because I ran out of topics and partly because I know how much time I'd have the next day.)
For those of you who are reading this the first time (or) are not sure which posts to read in this one month, I have some I'd like to recommend in decreasing order (because they are the ones that I convey what the blog's about, and also because I enjoyed writing them the most I guess)- What's with all the marrying, Chennai express and stereotyping, Rajinikanth, Colors- A terribly tiny tale and Laura- a short story. If you want the ones that were popular by pageviews or by comments (other than the ones above)- you might check I shouldn't be here, The Unspoken and The Roman Catholic Hindu actress...
Well, thank you and keep reading and commenting.. And let's hope that my writing spree lasts...
(Continued from Part 1 and Part 2. And part of the one-month challenge.)
Maybe it had been too good to be true and that's why Laura stopped turning up for tennis. The first few times, I waited for an hour. Then I stopped waiting. I tried to reach her, but she wouldn't respond on phone/email/nothing. I asked someone I knew in architecture and he said she was attending classes though she did miss one or two. “She does look a little pale”, he added.
I was very angry with her. What did she mean by not responding? Maybe she got tired of me. Maybe she got busy with Mike. Did he say pale? Maybe, maybe… I didn't let myself think about that. Maybe it was just a game she was playing- to see if I would talk to her on my own. Sometimes she did crazy cute things like that.
Well, if it was a game, I wasn't giving in. I wasn't going to ask her.
But maybe I should have gone then.
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I stood there, shell-shocked.
“How did it happen?”
“It looks like she slashed her wrists”
“Do they know why she did that?”
“Nobody knows. Some say it’s because the guy she loved rejected her. Some say she had been looking dull for a few weeks now. Sad and lonely. Seems she spoke to many people but wasn't close to anyone. Except one guy. Maybe he’d know.”
I could feel something tugging at my heart, Something knotting in my stomach.
“Didn't she leave a note or anything?”
“Most kids who commit suicide do, but she didn't. No message to the world. Not a single word.”
“So it could have been…” I didn't finish my question.
“No the evidence is quite clear. She slashed her own wrists. Period. It’s sad. Such a beautiful girl. And so young too.”
That day, I didn't think whether I could have done something to prevent it. I didn't wonder whether I had guessed wrongly about Mike- maybe it was me. Or whether her decision was even prompted by love.* I wasn't filled with regret about not having seen her in the last few days, nor any burden that I let someone’s life slip through my fingers. I didn't think that God was punishing me by taking her away.
I thought these things a million times many days later. Over and over again, my mind going through every possibility, with no trace, no hope of an answer.
But that day, I didn't think anything- my mind was numb and frozen. I couldn't stand there any longer.
I just walked away.
__END__
*Edit 1: Added this line because it was part of what I had thought
from the protagonist's perspective, but somehow missed conveying. Thanks
to my friend whose question indirectly prompted it...
(Continued from Part 1. Part of the one-month challenge.)
Just when my mind began to build villas in the air (I never liked castles), I realized Mike was sitting right behind me. Mike is a very cool chap from the physics department- very smart, tall, wears glasses and still manages to look cool, not nerdy! He plays for the best rock band on campus, is considered to be the most popular man on campus, and though no one would say no to him, he is single. Some say it’s because he doesn't find anyone to be good enough for him. Anyway, I saw her and then him again. And that was when the whole point of sitting opposite me struck my slow, stupid head! I just turned to see Mike. He was buried in his book. Well, suffice it to say that her sitting there like a dumb doll without batting an eyelid really got on my nerves and I decided to leave.
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I was walking with her to the tennis court. A few days after the library incident, I had run into her again while playing tennis. She had been watching the game (and Mike wasn't around) and it looked like she was waiting for her game partner who hadn't turned up. So, when my partner decided to leave, she asked if she could play with me instead of him. No, I don’t think she liked me or anything. She just badly wanted to play. And by god, she played well! It was an awesome game. At the end of it, we decided to play more often. Now we play 2 or 3 times a week, and even if she weren't the drop dead beauty that she is in tennis clothes, I’d love playing with her- she’s darn good!
After the game, we have coffee together. And she talks. When Seo-yun talks, I get bored and my mind drifts away. Or I end up watching her more than listening. It is tiresome to hear girls talk. And they talk endlessly. But somehow, when she talks I am all ears. (Oh, I forgot to mention- I asked her name the first time we played tennis. Laura.) I also observe her a lot more than I do Seo-yun. I notice every tiny movement of her fingertip, every little shadow that falls on her, and drink in every inch of her beautiful face. Yet, I also listen to every word she says and it’s as if my mind’s capacities have doubled.
But even after all the listening and observing, I can't figure her out. Sometimes, she is like a tomboy- waiting for adventure, jumping over fences, thinking up pranks. And sometimes, she is just a girl who is animatedly talking but is prettier than any painting. Sometimes, she is the demure shy woman, and sometimes she is a small child who I must protect from the big bad world. Sometimes she is a nerd who knows too much and is too good at her work. But sometimes she is just a good friend who will stand by me, come what may. She is like a mystery that changes every minute- a book whose pages I can keep turning for eternity.
Does she love me? I don’t think so. I think she is still in love with Mike. But I don’t know for sure. She talks a lot but never once lets me ask her very personal questions. She doesn't avoid them- she just makes me forget that any question ever existed. It is as if there is a line around her that you don’t cross, and yet it isn't she who drew the line. But I can’t say that there isn't a tinge of hope in the corner of my heart.
Do I love her? I have no idea. There are times when I feel I am head over heels in love with her. And there are times when I think that I am just overcome by attraction. At other times, I feel an overwhelming affection - if it were the end of the world, I'd still want to spend the last minute with her and protect her from the coming end.
Wasn't I dating Seo-yun, you might ask. Seo-yun is my real life love. She is a reflection of me. She looks pretty, but is not particularly ethereal. Laura is a dream- her reality is too magical for me. If you dream of a perfect woman for years and then you see her, you badly want to live with her but you can't. Laura is that kind of a dream. Too real and too pretty to be mine. She can be wanted, but not had.
Anyway, I was happy with the way things were. Of all the guys who would love to talk to her, I was the one who did. In fact, I am sure she has a long list of friends, and it's good enough that I even get the amount of time that I do. This was probably the best it could have been. In fact, it was almost too good to be true...*
(To be completed...)
*Edit 2: Again, something I thought I had conveyed, but looks like I didn't. Edit 1 is in Part 3 by the way!
