James Bond… Well not really. I just came from watching the latest Bond flick, Casino Royal and this is what I am thinking- Daniel Craig looks too much like the action-hero to be Bond, but the movie was a breath of fresh air. It was hard gritty fast, compared to the old blinking-switches and outrageous gizmos.
It was also more Real. More true too the book. I think Fleming’s Bond is finally here. Thought it would have been better if Daniel Craig didn’t look like he just took a couple of Botox injections. At least Sly Stallone has an excuse. On a more positive tone, though, I think the story almost made me feel for the Bond, wooden-face nonetheless. My conclusion? Watch it. Why? Because it’s a Bond movie for Chrissake. And the Girl is actually there for a reason other then looking good.
The action is, however, the high point of any James Bond movie. And this one doesn’t disappoint. It’s fabulous, just incredible enough to be Bond but looks real enough to make the audience ooh and aah with delight.
As my brother said, from having the love interest named “Pussy Gallore” and looking like rich French Barons who have seen more manicurists then terrorist, Bond has come a long way with a Female M to boot. I can’t wait to see the next Bond movie.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
Monday morning blues
Hear hear! I mean Monday morning is here. I guess the overwhelming urge to curl into the blanket and hope that the world forgets you are there for a few more minutes is entirely phycholigical. Pity, half a worlds population seem to share my view. Winter, my dear readers, is meant to be spent under the confortable warm blanket, sipping hot chocolate and reading action thrillers - not skiing the sheer cliffs of Aspen- and definitely not working in an Air Conditioned office. I do declare- I am lazy. I realised this astonishing fact early in life and have even accepted the reality of it. You will too.
Where was I? Oh yes, Monday morning blues. Here is a tip to avoid it - don't work on Saturdays. See if you do- then Sunday comes and goes very fast, since it has only 24 hours and we sleep foe about 7 to 8 hours and there is eating, drinking,........... you get the picture. and then when you wake up on Monday morning to the trilling sound of your expensive cell phone.........lets just say your entire life flashes before your eyes. Specially all the times you had to wake up on a moday morning. And my boos is here, waving a think wad of paper under my nose, which means is time to wrap up the rant. ciao people. Please contribute.
Where was I? Oh yes, Monday morning blues. Here is a tip to avoid it - don't work on Saturdays. See if you do- then Sunday comes and goes very fast, since it has only 24 hours and we sleep foe about 7 to 8 hours and there is eating, drinking,........... you get the picture. and then when you wake up on Monday morning to the trilling sound of your expensive cell phone.........lets just say your entire life flashes before your eyes. Specially all the times you had to wake up on a moday morning. And my boos is here, waving a think wad of paper under my nose, which means is time to wrap up the rant. ciao people. Please contribute.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Suicide is painless!!
The theme of the popular 70’s show M.A.S.H was named with a black humor, just like the show itself. In reality suicide is anything but painless. But in the spate of a few days, one attempted suicide and the newspaper account of many, compels me to think whether we all look at life with black humor.
Has it become so easy to take life, even if it is yours? Do the dearly departed care about the dearly left-behinds, the fall outs of their action. Does depression kill more then cancer?
Coming back to my original point, I feel that in the whole rigmarole of career, future and other planning, we have stopped living and thus stopped loving the thought of living. Because once you have really tasted the joy of simply “living”, I cannot imagine giving that up. Take the time to learn or teach that, and I think we can teach a whole generation the “Art of Living” literally. Here is to a world where people chose to live, not die.
Has it become so easy to take life, even if it is yours? Do the dearly departed care about the dearly left-behinds, the fall outs of their action. Does depression kill more then cancer?
Coming back to my original point, I feel that in the whole rigmarole of career, future and other planning, we have stopped living and thus stopped loving the thought of living. Because once you have really tasted the joy of simply “living”, I cannot imagine giving that up. Take the time to learn or teach that, and I think we can teach a whole generation the “Art of Living” literally. Here is to a world where people chose to live, not die.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Driving Democracy?
If you want to see true democracy, simply stand in any cross road in India. Even better, stand in a cross road in Hyderabad. Vehicles move democratically divergent directions, un-incumbered by traffic rules. And the traffic polices' are the true upholders of democracy, following the credo of by the people, for the poeple, of the people. Never mind the honking, snarling, homicidal traffic.
Even the drivers are very democratic. There is no discrimination, whether you drive a mercedes or a maruti 800- you will get bumped either way. As a rule you drive as you like, its entirely upto the other person to avoid collision. The only teeny problem? The other guy is thinking the same. With interesting results.
There is of course the small power struggles. Two wheelers crib about the obvious muscle power of the cars. Cars feel they get side swiped (literally) by the sneaky two wheelers. From a bird eye view, it looks like a well-knit shawl....no holes or gaps :)
As a matter of fact, the traffic cops are better then most politician. They are absolutely clueless about their job...but they don't shout and try and look threatening either. Apart from the fact that Hyderabadis are absolutely fearless when it comes to traffic cops, no one would probably hear them over the honking anyway.
Having stayed away from the driving seat for a decade, I am entertaining the thought of going back in the saddle or the seat so to say. If only people are so kind enough not to hit me or mind if I hit them, I will get on with my driving. Touchwood?
Even the drivers are very democratic. There is no discrimination, whether you drive a mercedes or a maruti 800- you will get bumped either way. As a rule you drive as you like, its entirely upto the other person to avoid collision. The only teeny problem? The other guy is thinking the same. With interesting results.
There is of course the small power struggles. Two wheelers crib about the obvious muscle power of the cars. Cars feel they get side swiped (literally) by the sneaky two wheelers. From a bird eye view, it looks like a well-knit shawl....no holes or gaps :)
As a matter of fact, the traffic cops are better then most politician. They are absolutely clueless about their job...but they don't shout and try and look threatening either. Apart from the fact that Hyderabadis are absolutely fearless when it comes to traffic cops, no one would probably hear them over the honking anyway.
Having stayed away from the driving seat for a decade, I am entertaining the thought of going back in the saddle or the seat so to say. If only people are so kind enough not to hit me or mind if I hit them, I will get on with my driving. Touchwood?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Cherish
Sometimes in the business of living life, we forget to cherish it. Nothing reminds you more of it than seeing someone lose it. Yesterday while riding with my hubby on his bike I saw an accident. A common news that we read about all the time.....but rarely see it happen.
While the brutality of it was shocking, what rang in my ears is the cry that came out of the heart of the young man who survived the crash. The woman riding pillion, whether she was his wife, sister or a friend...was gone. In one instance someones life was over and another's shattered.
And no one could do anything about it. I turned my head away as we rode away but that cry kept echoing in my ears, the sound of anguish reverbating in my head. And as I held on to my life, it occured to me that it had never felt this precious to me before. In that instance, I was ready to forgive and forget all.
Of course I also realised it was the heat of the moment talking, that the next day everything would be somewhat back to normal. But I also realised that while we fear our death, I now fear for my death..seeing what it could do to those that will be left behind. Truely, I never understood what it meant to live for anothers sake till today.
I spent the night mourning the death of a stranger and even more the grief of another stranger. And promised myself to live a little more carefully and cherish my life more. Because at the end, a cherished life leaves better memories when I am gone.
While the brutality of it was shocking, what rang in my ears is the cry that came out of the heart of the young man who survived the crash. The woman riding pillion, whether she was his wife, sister or a friend...was gone. In one instance someones life was over and another's shattered.
And no one could do anything about it. I turned my head away as we rode away but that cry kept echoing in my ears, the sound of anguish reverbating in my head. And as I held on to my life, it occured to me that it had never felt this precious to me before. In that instance, I was ready to forgive and forget all.
Of course I also realised it was the heat of the moment talking, that the next day everything would be somewhat back to normal. But I also realised that while we fear our death, I now fear for my death..seeing what it could do to those that will be left behind. Truely, I never understood what it meant to live for anothers sake till today.
I spent the night mourning the death of a stranger and even more the grief of another stranger. And promised myself to live a little more carefully and cherish my life more. Because at the end, a cherished life leaves better memories when I am gone.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Mad
Are You mad?
Mad enough to dream far beyond
Beyond what you have and need
To reach for the unreachable day
Do you dream in your safe cocoon
The "closet dreamer" in the unmoving world
Dream of sins, and pains and gains
To wake up in a sane world
Oh I wish for madness
For dreams insane
Of flying without wings
And singing in the rain
But I am so sane , so maddeningly sane
I dream of tulips, blue skies and gains
In my little closet the madness stays
My personal madness, my little gains
I even think of giving them away
My little closet full of dreams
But they are my sins, pains and full of gain
Mine mine, all mine and so maddeningly sane.
Mad enough to dream far beyond
Beyond what you have and need
To reach for the unreachable day
Do you dream in your safe cocoon
The "closet dreamer" in the unmoving world
Dream of sins, and pains and gains
To wake up in a sane world
Oh I wish for madness
For dreams insane
Of flying without wings
And singing in the rain
But I am so sane , so maddeningly sane
I dream of tulips, blue skies and gains
In my little closet the madness stays
My personal madness, my little gains
I even think of giving them away
My little closet full of dreams
But they are my sins, pains and full of gain
Mine mine, all mine and so maddeningly sane.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Road
Here I stand on a strange shore
Looking at the unknown beyond
Afraid to reach out
Too proud to turn back to the familar grounds
How, how do you know where to go,
When no one's holding a light for you
Groping in the dark, hoping you're on the right path
No one to point the way
The choices I made, the roads I walked
Are the only witness to my troubled past
They saw my tears, my fears, my joy
Keeping me company in my solitary quest
And now again, it's another shore
Another choice, another road.
But time has passed, and I am bold
Not afraid to reach out to the strange beyond
Now come what may, I know today
It was not "where" that mattered
It was the roads that were there
My guides, my friends, my companions in the dark
Looking at the unknown beyond
Afraid to reach out
Too proud to turn back to the familar grounds
How, how do you know where to go,
When no one's holding a light for you
Groping in the dark, hoping you're on the right path
No one to point the way
The choices I made, the roads I walked
Are the only witness to my troubled past
They saw my tears, my fears, my joy
Keeping me company in my solitary quest
And now again, it's another shore
Another choice, another road.
But time has passed, and I am bold
Not afraid to reach out to the strange beyond
Now come what may, I know today
It was not "where" that mattered
It was the roads that were there
My guides, my friends, my companions in the dark
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Life of a Reporter-A very short story
RCK, reporter sat on his chair morosely looking at the press notes in front of him..."This is my life" he thought. A life time of serving a very self-contained unprofessional organisation had left him no illusions of glory. "Twenty years....twenty years I have spent here...and what have a gained...a head full of grey hair?" He mused again.This has become a routine with him. Looking back, mulling over the "road not taken". He should have left when he had the urge to and not looked back.
But life had its own agenda...marriage...children...RESPONSIBILITY...That seem to explain the grey hairs. So what now? SO WHAT NOW????? His mind seem to be screaming at him. He looked out of the window...it was late night ..weekend was coming up. "It’s a lovely night" he thought and suddenly everything was clear...like a flash of lightening. He was whistling when he left the office that night, the security guard remembered. That was last any body heard of RCK, Reporter.
But life had its own agenda...marriage...children...RESPONSIBILITY...That seem to explain the grey hairs. So what now? SO WHAT NOW????? His mind seem to be screaming at him. He looked out of the window...it was late night ..weekend was coming up. "It’s a lovely night" he thought and suddenly everything was clear...like a flash of lightening. He was whistling when he left the office that night, the security guard remembered. That was last any body heard of RCK, Reporter.
A little bit of Introspection?
I wonder why I am doing it? I mean writing this nonsense. Must be a character flaw. Or perhaps signs on senility. Who knows what motivates a person to a certain action. Why do I do what I do?
Not even the usual chores are so usual. We are not born with the knowledge of brushing our teeth, combing our hair and going to corporate offices and drawing salary. Then what are we born with?..a fresh outlook? There is a theory that from birth onwards, before the worldly activities cloud the young mind, a child retains glimpses of the mystery that is life and death. It is almost a heart breaking irony that we spend lifetimes trying to find the knowledge that perhaps we were born with. And lost in the search for it.
But why? why the search?A need to justify our existence?A vogue?........"let's find nirvana man!!"A need to feel superior, achieve the unachievable? Or perhaps some of us feel, there is more to life then just breathing. But then again breathing is not a simple task anymore either. "Draw in the air around you know is polluted from the emission of the million ill-kept vehicles and let out an equally polluted whiff of carbon dioxide into the world". Amazing what an single action can construe.
Okay let’s get back to the initial agenda....why am I writing this.
Because I have nothing else to do. Well not true. More like I have nothing else that I think is worth doing at this time. Conceited thought? Well of course. What else can be expected from a self-professed writer?Recently a friend brought the world of "blog" into my periphery. Which followed a few hours of joyful research on the net on my part. And the end result is THIS!!!
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