The lunchbox

The lunchbox. Signifies food. With food is associated life and joy. All things positive. At the least, sustenance. This movie has so many symbolisms in it. It’s a beautiful movie that leaves you with a smile. Its poignance is amazing. Quite rare for the brash overly glamourous Bollywood cinema which is thriving more on on-your-face emotions.

There is subtlety and love and romance and betrayal and death and the past and even the future somewhat told altogether at the same time. Old reminiscences and how they rejuvenate our present lives, old betrayals and how they hurt us…yet its not time, but our own will power that makes us move on. Time does not heal things. It's us.

A simple mistake by the world famous dabbawallahs leads to a unique relationship between a crotchety old man and a lonely housewife who finds that her marriage is going to the pits as she has a cheating husband. The old man is a lonely widower who is a month away from retirement. The lonely housewife is on the verge of suicide. Both of them save each other like strangers often tend to do once you confide in them. He appreciates her food and she appreciates the care he showers on her. They have never met each other. She satisfies his need for good food. He satisfies her craving for attention and gives a few minutes of his time to her. They never meet. In the era of emails, WhatsApp and whatnot, they communicate through little pieces of paper which are wrapped in fragrant chappatis. Soon she awaits the return of her empty dabba and the reply he sends and he awaits for her delicious, spicy food and mundane recollections of her mind, her life and her thoughts. The empty dabba and pacifying words soothe her sad, comfortless life. She has an ailing father and a tired mother. A young daughter and a cheating husband. He has memories of his dead wife, noisy children of the neighbourhood and an empty house where he watches television and smokes.

These 2 very disparate characters blend their lives and come together through little pieces of paper that convey hope and despair; memories and advice; friendship and care. Mostly friendship and care. 2 people who end up getting to know each other. Through the lunchbox full of food, and little pieces of paper.

The way to the heart is indeed through the lunchbox.

Oscar WIlde's Picture of DOrian Gray - Review

After reading Oscar Wilde’s portrait of Dorian Gray, it is amazing how I want to simply empty my mind. I just want to be alone and be with the good things in my life. Nature, children, dogs…he has spoilt the value of a beautiful garden by polluting it with the association and importance gardens have in Dorian Gray’s cruel and wicked life.

It is after all, in a beautiful and sweet scented garden that Harry meets Dorian and begins his corrosive influence on that boy. It is amazing how evil is so fascinating to a boy with such angelic looks.

In the satire, where the Irish writer goads the English tendency to love the looks of things and how they seem, he has excelled himself by creating the sadistic character of Dorian who is angelic only to look at. The devil lurks underneath his beautiful looks that never fades away. It is his portrait that suffers from the sins that eventually catch up with him. A powerful book on how ones actions affect ones looks and life.

Reputation, society, looks, status – all are scorned by Oscaar Wilde’s infamous book – the picture of Dorian Gray. An Irish in the land of the English, how much ever he tried to emulate the mannerisms of the English, his Irishness was pre dominant. He never fit in because of that and ended up scorning the English society for the hypocrisy that it reeked of. Birth, status, money – in that order were more revered than the man for who he was. He proceeded to showcase the ultimate hypocrisy by creating a character in his book who had all – wealth, status and looks. He only lacked good morals. What he lacked, he scorned it on every one else. Morality and honour were heavy baggage to carry and soon in his youth, he is fantastically able to trade these for retaining his good looks and youth. The artist who creates and captures his fantastic youth and angelic good looks on canvas secretly worships him and has him for a muse till his cynical, world weary acquaintance captures the attention of the young man. He takes him under his tutelage and is amazed to find a willing student in Dorian Gray. The painter in the meanwhile despises his snatching away not only the attention but also the innocence of his muse. Dorian, in the meanwhile, wishes that he remain as chaste and youthful as his portrait. By some chance of fate, he manages to get his wish true and goes down the alley to seek hedonistic pleasures and have his senses over rule his morality.

He can see the depth of his corruption, as his soul seems to be captured in the portrait. He sees the degradation he has wrought on himself as often he sees his portrait. But, on his face, nothing shows. His looks are as angelic as his actions are filled with devilry. It is because of his good looks, his wealth and status that Dorian manages to still exist in society. No one openly cuts him except men who are morally far above him or women who have been dishonoured by him. These women, have no status and are ostracised. Young men try to emulate him and other men are simply jealous of his ‘achievements’. No one tries to cut him and tell him off, except the painter. He is afraid to believe the tales society whispers about his ex-muse. The old man, Basil, is shocked at the atrocities his ex-muse has allegedly committed and goes on to confront him about this. When he does, the evil in the young man overpowers him and he blames the old man for all his misdeeds and kills him. His portrait duly has a spot of blood in his hand but his hands are really blemish-less to look at. This in turn frustrates and enamours the young looking man as, by now, Dorian is almost 40. Though he looks just as he did when he was 19. He starts looking at his youth as a curse and tries his best now to remove the stains he has created on his soul. But does not realise that it is a long and tedious process. After doing a single good deed, which actually is simply a whim, he checks on his portrait. when he sees, the hideous portrait remains unchanged. in his anger, he wants to destroy the mirror of his soul. That kills him instead.

In death, his body shows the degeneration that has been wrought on it because of the evil mind that possesses it. The picture becomes as beautiful as it originally was. Death reaches out and takes his ignoble soul away. But no one recognises the degenerate body that it has left behind and he is left unrecognized in death – the worst that could have happened to him in life.

Positivity

It is something we take for granted. It’s the most intangible asset an employee can have. It is the most ignored aspect in the world. It’s not just in the professional world, but in life as well.

Its absence is felt much greater than its presence is appreciated. In fact, absence of positivity is dangerous. It can erode teams, individual and the morale of people who work in the team. Lack of a positive outlook in our professional life helps to make us tie over difficult patches. It also helps us look at a problem in a better way looking to solve the problem and not to blame someone else for a problem. People become instruments to solve problems, not the reason for problems. The way we look for solutions change.

This does not mean that only positivity should be there. That would be naiveté. It would be calamitous. A healthy dose of realism and caution is required. Friction, after all, is quite important; else we would all be slipping and breaking our skulls.

Negativity at the work place makes you think less. It’s like a weighty burden on your shoulders. You drag your feet to work. You start talking about ‘other things’ when sitting with your colleagues for a coffee break. A break from work means you talk shopping, friends and which places have vacancies. Thinking about your work and improving in it is a thought that is galaxies away.

Such an employee is simply being there in the ‘now’ as he does not see himself in the future of that company. It even spreads. It’s a virus. Especially when someone in a lead position carries a negative attitude about him/her, then it’s detrimental to the entire team. The team is now different units. They do not function as a team. They are individuals who make up a team and do their different duties. They come to office and think of leaving. Finishing assigned tasks and leaving for the day so they can pursue their other life.

Companies should see to it that they address issues of leaders with negative attitudes.  Companies must introspect if these negativities are founded on fact or if the individual is negative by nature and always looks at a glass half empty. It may be possible, in that case, that there is a reason for all the negativity floating around. If it is because such influencers in the team are by nature negative, then the team may scatter and  the doers of the team will soon find alternate paths or may not perform to their best capabilities. The loss, ultimately, will be felt overall and may create a ripple effect.

Pathankot, Pakistan and the common man

The Pathankot tragedy seems to be quite significant. Pakistani terrorists have started attacking our defense forces. How do they have such an insight into where our defenses are located? Okay fine. Google maps. Common knowledge. Fine. All that is good general knowledge on their behalf. But how come our folks were caught so unaware?

Such laxity on part of the ever vigilant brave Army folks is a little scary to say the least. Especially when these things are about national defense and warfare.

Why are Pakistani folks so intent on travelling to India with such destructive intents? Why such stealth? Why such evil intentions toward their once joined by the hip twin? Is it an inferiority complex? Is it an attempt to deny common history and remove India from the map?

Whatever the reason is, their attempts are hurtful. Their attempts speak of a nation that is so poor that its youth are forced to kill themselves over a couple of lakhs of money for their family. Going to India, destroying some part of the country is like earning the ultimate bonus. Plus you are told you will attain heaven if you become ‘shaheed’ for the cause of your nation and Islamic brothers. If not, you can serve your community in other ways. All of them, definitely, more violent, more destructive.

Such impressionable youth – their lives wasted away in hatred and death. Is a life of peace in our neighbouring country such a rarity? Is it such a foreign concept that parents don’t mind if one son’s life is sacrificed like this? A couple of lakhs at least will come their way and they can sustain the others in the family for a while longer. Is that attitude of the families?

Instead of letting terrorism flourish, why can’t our dear neighbours’  increase economic growth and activities around that region? I am sure more intelligent people than me must have thought about such things. I wonder what is stopping them from taking such steps. Okay, maybe because that means women also must be educated so that would not be palatable for such a male dominated country. But if that is the case, then the men would be more interested in getting educated and earning money through more peaceable ways. Even their parents would encourage such things. They would have money plus their children.

Or is war and infighting in this region more profitable to the powers that be?

People die in the process. So what? Its one of the most populous regions in the world. A couple of poor people die, So what?

Are we so callous in our outlook?

Why is peace and economic growth of places  in the LOC region taking a back seat? Always war. Always fighting. Don’t they really get bored of that? Can no one ever think that enough of all this fighting. Lets try and improve the place where we live. Lets love the place we are born in and improve it for the sake of our children? Doesn’t such positive thoughts not take shape in such regions? Or are they truly god forsaken?

Our dear Prime Minister Modi even gave a surprise visit to his counterpart in Pakistan to ensure peace. This incident is like a mockery to that polite act. Is Nawaz Shariff truly in control of the nation or are the terrorists and ISI and Military of Pakistan running a regime of hate that is stronger and has deeper roots which will always hold sway in that nation’s governance and relationship with India?

I wonder if Pakistan’s people realize how self-destructive this method of governance is. They are being held hostage by violence, terrorists and extremists in their own country. Quite a sad fact to live with about your own country.

Men Women...society??

In every society woman is construed to be a temptress. One who is a lascivious creature designed to arouse men away from their duty. They are the ultimate distraction. Without a woman, many religions believe, that man would be complete. O well, he needs a woman to procreate with and satiate his base urges – i.e to have babies to increase his lineage and to have sex with. (Mostly in that order)

I am, sure many orthodox religions would agree to the basic concept of difference between men and women put as such.

Naturally when an argument is put in such a way, I would definitely beg to differ. The truth is such derivations have been made by a patriarchal society. Like some say, the history of winners is the one that is widely known. Its like the other side of the moon, so to speak. But we as people cannot discount the fact that women mostly form 50% of any population. Technically speaking, men and women form the human population. Therefore, how can 50% of the human race be evil? That, too, 50% of the same gender? Somewhat illogical, really.

The truth is as far as I know Hindu scriptures (and that’s not much really), it says that you must treat women with respect, for; they are your mother and later, your companions. They keep you companionship and women have also known to be active participants or even involved in the history of mankind. (Though seeing Sonia Gandhi, Mamata Banerjee and J. Jayalalithaa, one would wish women would keep to home and hearth and not enter politics!)

Men have certain duties and so do women. Both have rights and duties. It is more like a division of labour. Depends on who is translating that you understand how much importance to give to whom. But really, both of them deserve equal importance. A woman has as much voice as a man. Also, a man must be humble to attain heaven as much as a woman needs to be humble. Humility, intelligence, an allegiance to righteousness, equality, duty and responsibility is all there in our scriptures. These are all there for both men and women.

Some people always say that men and women are not equal. Women have always been superior. This can be taken both ways. But I suppose we should take away the gender bias and say that both men and women form part of the human race. Each of us as people have a duty towards the other. So instead of doing one upmanship, we must learn to understand that both are equal. Both are people. Respect the other. Both men and women crave a respectful existence. Once respect is removed from the equation, there is inequality. That is the source of all our men vs women debates.

Though I think I have oversimplified the problem, I have simply worked out the problem from my angle.

Toru Dutt & incidently the review of 'Le Journal de mademoiselle D'Arvers'

Toru Dutt is a prodigy who has been long forgotten. But she is the first Indian novelist who has ever written in English AND in French. She was born in the literary family of Dutts in Bengal. The last of 3 children of Govin Chunder Dutt. She had a brother and a sister – Abju & Aru, respectively. A curious, vivacious young girl who was adept at learning and whose curiosity to learn read and write consumed her till the end of her short life. She was adept in Sanskrit, English, French, German and of course Bengali. She was a proficient translator and translated many works of French to English. Though born a Hindu, she, converted to Christianity when she was 6 years old. Her writings reflect her Christian belief. She has also translated many works from Sanskrit.

Very little is known of her writings and she is most popularly known only as a poet for her famous poem ‘Our Casuarina Tree’ which is her most popular work. But this prodigy whose literary and cultural sensibilities were awakened at a very tender age of 13 wrote 2 novels – ‘Bianca’ and ‘Le Journal de Mademoiselle D’Arvers’ apart from the many translations. Her sister Aru was also as good a linguist and writer. Both sisters have translated a few French poems in an anthology known as ‘A Sheaf Gleaned From French Fields’. This was a joint venture by both the sisters. Unfortunately, the elder one was not alive to see it in print and Toru completed it after her death. The sisters loved each other a lot. They grew up in Nice, France and England and therefore could appreciate the literature and culture of the continent better than any Indian as they grew up immersed in it. Toru went to the continent when she was 13, ie: in 1869, when English literature was at its peak with poets like Shelley and Wordsworth, and of course my favourite – Emily Bronte; being her contemporaries. In fact in her French novel, ‘Le Journal de Mademoiselle D’Arvers’ , I do detect some traces of Emily Bronte’s work, ‘Wuthering Heights’ The love of Louis reflects the gentle and tender love Edgar Linton has for Catherine Earnshaw nee Linton. Unlike Emily’s heroine, though, Marguerite is a gentle woman and her love is deep and tender.  

Art and literature were very much appreciated and encouraged during that period of time. Toru and her sister blossomed in this environment. With the literary genes inherent in them, this was a fertile soil where it blossomed and gave beautiful fruit. Language was at their behest and they expressed themselves poignantly.

It is unfortunate that what brought them to Europe was primarily the death of their brother Abju. He died of consumption. Whenever you read this young author’s work, death is forever present, like a shadow. Toru was surrounded by death from a very early age. This is reflected in her works as they are somewhat biographical in nature. Her sister, Aru, too, died when Toru was just 19. She herself died when she was 21. Alas! Literature lost a beautiful contributor!

Her works are poignant and when you know about the author, it is all the more brilliant that this writing has originated from the pen of one who was so young. There is a certain maturity in the emotions of her characters. Though it shows that this was written at a time when women were not so aware of things. Like when I read the English translations of the French novel, I found that the author was very naïve about facts of childbirth and in some instances of nursing a baby. Her characters definitely touch a chord emotionally and are mature. But death seems to shadow them at every turn. In fact the major theme can be said to be death. Though she never had the chance to fall in love (or maybe who knew! She had an unrequited love! For the way she describes the female protagonist when in love, she is somewhat apt in some of her descriptions of a girl in love). A girl who loves, loses and learns to love again. A deep and wholesome love. Though the superstitions of the character are somewhat Indian, and that betrays the fact that it was written by an indian authoress. But such superstitions were prevalent in the west too. :)

The male characters are also very well fleshed out. The father figure here is very supportive of his daughter and it reflects the relationship she shared with her own father. It also reflects how fathers in that era were very dominant figures in a girls life. This book opens our eyes to the fact that women were protected creatures in the 19^th century. They were under the protection of their fathers when young and soon, but very soon, they moved to the protection offered by their husbands.  The woman plays the role of care taker and is kind and gentle. The character of Madame Gosserelle is an interesting one and shows that though Toru was young, she had seen enough of the different characters in her short but informative life. This book throws to light her very un-Indian upbringing. In the nineteenth century not only was she multi lingual and an expert in all the languages she knew, but she was also well versed in her understanding of human nature. She is a rare gem in the literary world. I appreciate her more because she was not only very young but that she was a woman. Yes you can call me feminist. But this young Indian had a very great understanding of human nature and she had the ability to be articulate and poignant enough to pen her thoughts. It is strange to know that despite having a supportive father who appreciated her literary genius and in fact fed the fire of her curiosity, she never revealed her novels to him. It was after she died that her father discovered his daughter’s works.

Perhaps her novels would have given her father a feeling of how stifled she felt in her father’s love for her. How stifling it was for her to sit in side 4 walls when her heart and mind were out there in the wild fields of France and England. Perhaps her mind was too agile to keep up with her weakening body because even as she wrote her novels, she herself was consumed by the disease that had eaten up her siblings. The dreaded consumption. What a devastation to the old parents who had to watch each one of his talented children die one by one and still be alive to bury them and live amidst the ruins of their young lives!

But as you read the works of Toru Dutt, you see a maturity, a vast understanding and a certain peace in death. As though she welcomes it like sleep after a tired day. It is as though in death, she is going to live far better than she did in life. Free from the pains and anxieties of life – knowing and being with her friends whom she missed in life. It is as though by dying, she is going to a happier and freer place – a place where she can roam around freely and happily. Where her heart, body, mind and soul are in sync and as agile as she wants them to be and with people whom she loves.

Mind Magic

Like a river our minds flow,

like liquid metal it feels.

Fluid, yet somewhat weighty.

It’s all matter rolled into one

but that really does not matter.

It flows fast,

Though it does have

the ways of a glacier.

Its ways are numerous,

infinite are its workings.

but sometimes,

it feels like a snowball

gathering and building itself

with time.

yet some minds,

disintegrate and regenerate

with intensity, frequeny & intense frequency

at different frequencies.

amazing are the tendencies

of different minds at different levels.

Discover yours

Delve into others'

discover it all,

Simultaneously!