Kshay

“Want to come for a film called Kshay? 

“Ksay? I have never heard about this film, is this some off-beat film?

“Yah! it’s an art film, running at PVR, I don’t wish to miss,  only last two days left”

“Is it good?”

“I have heard it’s a good film, has refreshing cinematic languages and has won ‘Grand Jury Prize for Best Narrative Feature’.

That did it. I have always loved art film but have not visited it for a long time.

My friends and I arrived 15 minutes before the show time. With popcorn and coffee, we sat relaxed in plush comfort of the large soft seats for the movie to start.

The movie, Kshay (made by Karan Gour) moves at its own pace, there is no moment of boredom for us. Black and white, in sharp contrast, the story unfolds

What does an Indian housewife do? She has a routine life that includes prayers, household chores and looking after her husband needs. During her free time, she might have some hobby or may visit her neighbor for a chit chat. That’s a normal life for an Indian housewife.

Chhaya was leading a normal life till one day her eyes chanced upon the serene face of Goddess Laxmi. The price of the unfinished sculpture was Rs15000 which was something beyond her means. Soon her desire turned into obsession and she began to see Goddess of prosperity everywhere. She started relating the solution to all her problems on acquiring and owning the sculpture.

Life changed completely; soon she lost the sense of reasoning, her peace of mind, her moral values. All that mattered was to fulfill her obsession, so severe that it would destroy her, leaving her all alone

Made in black and white, with its own space for innovation, this award winning film sent chill through my spine and sometimes left me feeling sorry for her state of obsession and boredom. The whole focus is on the near-perfect expressions of the protagonist, which fills all the space. I was awed by artistically and poetic performance of Rushika Duggal. There is no distraction as I go along with her through her every emotion of pain, pleasure and her sense of frustrations.

The movie ends, I remain seated, still.

Desire is such a curse, especially if you are poor, it can lead to extreme obsession that can destroy the very existence of peaceful life…….

'Vow' is Crappy Wow

One day we are sleeping skin to skin and next moment we are strangers. I address him as doctor when I see him after a deep sleep but he says he is my husband, Leo, now I want a proof, how can I believe him? My head aches, was in coma for sometime, a big accident they say, a rear-ended by truck which has resulted in amnesia after bonk on my head. Leo was also with me but he escaped after minor scratches, so why me? Who said life is fair? But fortunately, I don’t have total amnesia, I can remember other thing before five years, I recognize my parents but I don’t understand why Leo does not know them? If he is my husband he is supposed to know everything, no? Parents insist that I go with them but Leo insist that I go with him since I am married to him and living in the familiar environment will help me regain my memory back. He says I was studying law but I preferred to pursue my art. Imagine, five years of memory gone, poof! Just like that, But I remember my old flame and I even give him a hug, He is happy of course. I start dressing up like a teenager and even color my hair but with Leo, I can’t seem to believe that I am married to him. I am not getting passionate. What to do? So poor Leo, he has to start from the very beginning, right from dating in the same restaurant that we went 5 years ago. And he plays dirty, he walks naked in the house and when I am shocked he grins and says ‘It’s my habit”

Once he even takes me for that skinny-dip in the ice-cold lake, when I am shivering in my bikini, he carries me on his bare back and takes me back,  in the car he holds me to give me some warmth but still there is no chemistry between us, nopes, no chemistry at all. He is trying very hard to bring my memory back but I apologize and tell him “I am sorry to have disappointed you. One day I shall love you like you love me” and we continue to find those sparks.

Was it a Bollywood film, it would have been easier to bring back my memory. A nice song with heart-felt lyrics by Kolavari Di would have done the trick, we could have visited all those places where we had spent good times together, to those scenic spots of Kashmir and Utranachal Pradesh, some religious places like Haridwar and Balaji, and even visited Khajuroa caves, slowly but surely, the trips would have brought back some flash back images of our life together and suddenly I would call out his name loudly with a strong back ground music by Bappi Lehri...tra ra ra.dhoom...and then I would ask him “Is that you? My pati parmeshwar? So sorry I did not recognize you, please forgive me., Thank God my memory is back”  All the family and friends would be informed – memory is back! Memory is back! Yay! There would be chorus of congratulations pouring in, and one more item song by Shilpa Shetty.

But  my story is embedded in Hollywood film ‘Vow’  which based on real life story where the memory never comes back and we start a new life, erasing the past completely and start a new life all over again. 


They continue to sing "Nah tum hamey janoo, nah hum tumey janoo, magar lagtaa key kuch aisa, mera hum dum mil gaya..(which loosely translates as: Neither you know me nor I know you but it seems like I have found my match)

Book Review - An Atlas Of Impossible Longing

How many times have we stretched our hands towards our friends asking them to read our palm in jest and how much of it do we really believe it?

“Want, want, hope, hope…this is what your palm says too, moshai, your palm is nothing but an atlas of impossible longings…Nothing but longing.” (pg. 199).

And that is exactly what can be true for everyone of us who seek the astrologer’s predictions, it’s what we hope and want, a better future with security, wealth and health, all in perfect balance-an impossible longings.

I read the blurb at Simon and Schuster, was impressed and bought immediately, it read:

On the outskirts of a small town in Bengal, a family lives in solitude in their vast new house. Here, lives intertwine and unravel. A widower struggles with his love for an unmarried cousin. Bakul, a motherless daughter, runs wild with Mukunda, an orphan of unknown caste adopted by the family. Confined in a room at the top of the house, a matriarch goes slowly mad; her husband searches for its cause as he shapes and reshapes his garden. As Mukunda and Bakul grow, their intense closeness matures into something else, and Mukunda is banished to Calcutta. He prospers in the turbulent years after Partition, but his thoughts stay with his home, with Bakul, with all that he has lost—and he knows that he must return…….. 

The book is in three parts and carries the story across three generations.

The characters are well sketched out and the scenes of Calcutta, Songrah and a house at Manoharpur come alive with her vivid descriptions

“We went from room to room, Bakul providing explanation for each, with apologies for all-pervading dust. She spoke in the same passionate descriptive way, not pausing to let us respond. I recognized the mildewed portraits on the ground floor from my visits with Aangti Baba, and the chandelier he had been eying still hung from the ceiling, too grey with dust and cobwebs, surely, to make light. We passed through enormous wood-paneled billiards room, with table piled high with legless chairs, broken boxes and pictures in frames. I wondered who had used it in the past- it was certainly never going to be usable in the future".(pg.291)

Staying in an isolated place can wreck the nerves of a normal person and this character is clearly etched out in the first section ‘The drowned house’ where Kunanbala suffers from a strange disease of hurling random abuses, and has to be locked away in a room to save the family from embarrassment.

As the relationship between Bakul (a motherless child) and Mukunda (an orphan) grows, you begin to wonder if the caste and social status will come in their way.

Good story, very riveting, read it during the weekly 3 hours-bus journeys to school, during which I often read books to divert my mind from crazy traffic of Mumbai. This is the book I would recommend that people with a librarian degree buy for their libraries, a book that I enjoyed a lot, especially the third section “The Water’s Edge’ that got me so interested that I finished it all in one go, at home, under warm covers. 

Royal Massage on a Lazy Afternoon

Walking for two hours on a dusty road can be tiresome especially when the scenery around you is all shoes and clothes, sea of perspiring people and the noisy traffic. It is at such moments that a visit to an air-conditioned mall can bring relief (even if it is only for a short visit to the loo). My feet are soaring and I spot 'Sabal', a foot massage parlor. I am reminded of my last visit to Bangkok, when at every opportunity we jumped for foot massage and it used to be such a relief. Late at night, my cousins and I, after shopping and dinner would head to the nearest massage parlour to pamper ourselves. Just for 300 Bhats, we would sit side by side, next to each other, on the smooth reclining chairs, behind the glass windows and get some relaxing massages. It used to be such a pleasure as we floated on our feet on our way back home.


I decide to try this one in the Link mall at Bandra.

The receptionist sitting outside the parlor hands me the various types of foot-massage on offer. There are four different kinds and she advises me to go for herbal massage. Since I have tried none before I opt for her choice.

I enter the dimly lit room that has a strong aroma of lemon grass. There are perfumed candles everywhere and one big picture of Buddha dominates the wall under warm spotlights. After a cold glass of water, I am led to the reclining sofa with cushions tucked behind my back. There are several girls in the room but they all look alike, same narrow slit eyes, long face, large forehead and nod with a smile. How do they recognize one Thai girl from another? Anyways, even in Bangkok I am confused when I see so many people of similar features. One with the crinkly eyes comes closer with a hot tub of water, containing some flower petals. She washes my dirty feet and I apologize. In India we wash the feet of the spiritual gurus, and I pretend I am the one. She smiles, maybe she is used to many, more such dirty feet walking into her parlor. She wipes my feet with warm towel and gently lifts them over a small stool. I stretch my feet and close my eyes. There is a soft, soothing piano music in the background. I am drifted to ether world. Wow! Such is the life!

The masseuse brings a tray of different herbal oils. She pour oil into her palm, rubs the oil between her palms and with circular motion she massages my feet, calves, knees and toes. I remind her to be a bit careful because I am afraid of wrong pressure on my nerves but she is proficient and works very efficiently. It is very relaxing and I take in deep breath (having learnt on TV channels that when we have nothing to do, we can utilize that time with breathing exercises, breathes in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.....) I feel her kneading my muscles with her knuckles, and then with finger tips and nails pressing on pressure points. When she starts her massage with blunt roller, I squint to see that blunt object but feel too drowsy to keep my eyes open. I drift back to sleep enjoying the soft music and pleasure of the warm tingling sensation on my feet. Suddenly there is a warm steaming rub under my feet. I cringe. The room is now filled with vapors and the scent of lemon grass is strong. This time I am curious to see the source of the vapors. I see a tub containing hot steaming oil on her side. She had a small muslin potli filled with lemon grass leaves. She dips this potli in the hot lemon seed oil and presses it lightly on my skin.

I am amused and started to converse with her, thanking her for the nice treatment. She asks me to visit her more often, explaining that it is good for circulation of the blood and in keeping oneself healthy. She talks about her life in India and tells me that everything that she used during the massage was imported from Bangkok. Her boss is an Indian married to a Thai woman. They have two outlets in Mumbai, one at Bandra and other at Infinity mall in Varsova. There are seven reclining chairs at Bandra branch spread over two levels. I did not see other clients and I was the only one, alone during my visit. Maybe it is expensive. For my foot herbal massage, it cost me Rs1500, if I were to ask the masseur to come home, they normally charge Rs150 for body massage. But then I think we pay here for the ambience and the feel good factor.

After the foot massage, I am asked to sit on lower stool and she gives me back and head massage, stretching my arms backwards and sideways and finally ended with massage on my arms, shoulders and fingers.

I was just thinking of visiting a natural ice-cream parlour across the street, post massage, when she entered again with the tray of fresh fruits (grapes, kiwi and apple) and a cup of hot ginger tea.

Light and refreshed I felt like a royalty in the kingdom of my own..