“Whoever came up with the line – You can be a mother even if you’re a man – in the old Nescafe ad must have been inspired by Nathan Lane’s performance in this movie!” – is what I thought when I watched The Birdcage again a few weeks back. Made way back in 1996, the movie still retains the original charm and relevance, really, as it did, all those years ago. Briefly summarizing, The Birdcage is about a gay couple (Robin Williams and Nathan Lane) and the fact that Williams’ heterosexual son is dating the daughter of a conservative senator (Gene Hackman). The plot revolves around Hackman’s attempts to have a ‘white’ wedding for his daughter, which will offset the scandal that his party is going through – of a fellow senator dying, while soliciting the services of a coloured commercial sex worker (can this BE more politically correct???)

So we have the son requesting Williams to pretend to be straight for just one evening and send Lane away, who is upset – as he has literally brought up the boy. I love the way he has a cake sent to the boy saying something like “To my dear piglet, love, auntie”. And the rest of the story is about how Williams tries to get the real mother of his son for dinner with Hackman’s family, how she can’t make it on time as she is stuck in traffic, and how Lane fills in instead – as the boy’s mother. The relationship that develops between Hackman and Lane – Mrs. Goldman / Coleman, if you will – is endearing, to say the least.

The point that came across extremely strongly is how well Lane pulled off the role of the drag queen, in a way that probably not many others can. His gait, mannerisms, the pinky finger going up when he lifts a glass – this is authentic, at its very best. Add to this, his chosen stage name, Starina, and how can you not love him? J In fact, the movie brought to mind, one of the topics that I was considering for my masters’ thesis way back – of studying the portrayal of fathers in Indian, actually Tamil, cinema. Typically, I had the movies I wanted to study in mind and tried to weave a topic around it, instead of doing it the other way around. While I ended up choosing another topic to work on, for the thesis, I still believe that I would have loved working on a piece along these lines, with the movies in question being Anjali and the then-recently released Kannatthil Mutthamittaal.

By and large, I think Raghuvaran is one of the best actors in the Tamil film industry. I truly believe that he was capable of a lot more than the kind of roles he did. And his performance in Anjali is true vindication. While many people have expressed issues with the script per se, the performances in the movie have been memorable. Whether it was Revathi, the siblings, even Saranya in her brief role as the doctor, and Raghuvaran himself – I believe every one of them left an impact on the viewing audiences. For me, this was Raghuvaran at his best – as the husband who made an extremely difficult choice, as a father who spends every free moment that he has with his challenged daughter, as a father who goes on the offensive against other people in the building complex, who worry about the influence that his daughter may have on the rest of the children there.

The other, of course, is the film where Madhavan adopts this little girl from the orphanage in Rameshwaram and the child’s quest to find her biological mother when she comes to know that she was adopted. The innate feminist that I am, I took objection to the point that Madhavan gets into a marriage only to adopt the baby. I guess this resolved itself in my head over a period of time J but the point I’m trying to make is the beauty of Madhavan’s relationship with his daughter. And the sensitivity with which it’s been portrayed. Now contrast these roles with others like the one Mr. Bachchan plays in Mohabbatein – this is one movie that makes me want to put my hand down my throat and rip my lungs apart – or the same Mr. Bachchan’s role in Kabhie Khushi Kabhie Gham. Safe to not get started on my reactions to that movie, I guess.

All said and done, I’m convinced that Nathan Lane inspired the profound line in the Nescafe ad J

Goodbyes never get easier. Either with time or age or experience. In fact, the older you grow and the more you see and the more you let go of things – or try to – goodbyes only get tougher. Because there comes a time in your life when the number of things that really matter to you are so few that letting go of those things – and by relation, letting go of people associated with those things – is simply the most painful thing to do. Ever.

Take the simple case of friends moving away for whatever reasons. Family, work, higher studies. Isn’t it always tougher on the people who are left behind? I mean, the ones who leave do have it rough for the first few weeks or months. And then there’s all the excitement. New things to do, new people to meet, new office, new colleagues, new boss, new university, new neighbors. A whole lot of new stuff. And somewhere along the road, it gets better. And for those who stay behind? It’s about starting all over again. Without someone whose support you counted on till now. Sure, you continue to count on it in every possible virtual way. It never is the same.

Everytime someone close to me has moved on or moved away – it’s been so hard to put on a brave front because I think that might make it easier for them. But after they’re gone? I remember the time I was moving away from Bangalore to Manipal and I’d just told one of my closest friends about it. He was walking me back home and he said, “I can’t believe you’re not going to be just a phone call away.” One of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. But I just smiled it away at that point. Just a couple of years after that, the same friend moved to the US, for his Master’ degree and then career pursuits. Sure, he’s still just a phone call away. And yet, somehow, it’s not the same.

Even when one of my closest friends at work moved out, to work with another of our offices, no less, the goodbye wasn’t easy. There is something so important about having that set of people that you see everyday, that you connect with everyday, that is vital. And I miss that. A bond where a friend knows what you’re thinking, with just a glance, a smile or the raise of an eyebrow. The difficulty in saying goodbye took on a whole new dimension for me personally, as of the beginning of this year. It doesn’t matter that distances melt and the heart grows fonder, it just doesn’t get easier. I mean, I still feel terrible everytime my closest-to-best-friend-ever travels for a couple of months for performances, at a stretch. I know I can write to her. Bloody hell, I can even talk to her. And she’s going to be back in 2 months. 3 months. 6 months. Whatever. But when I go to Bangalore, in that time, she’s not there.

These, of course, are the pleasant goodbyes. And then, there is the other kind. For a long time, I really believed that it was better to have had something and then lost it, than to have never had it at all. Whatever the object in question. Love, relationships, money. And then I was deeply influenced by the whole Siddhartha thing. That you cant truly give up something unless you’ve had it. But right now, at this point in time in my life, I can’t help but think that it’s better to not have something at all than to have it and then lose it. I really don’t miss something that I’ve never had, you know. Losing something – the anger kind of overshadows everything for a bit. But it doesn’t really last. It’s the pain that does.

Which is the reason that I was so taken in by this saying on pain by Jim Morrison: “People fear death even more than pain. It's strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over.” This makes sense to me. This also brought up an interesting exchange with a respected friend / mentor, who pointed out to me that the contrary, was, in fact, true. That this is because pain is short-lived while death is an unknown permanence. That what separates an extra-ordinary person from an ordinary one is the ability to think beyond pain, not just the ability to withstand pain itself. I’m not sure whether I necessarily agree to that. Because I personally believe that the pain never really goes away. It lessens over a period of time, it gets more comfortable, it even becomes familiar. And it’s always there.

Strangely enough, one of my favourite books is Only Love is Real by Dr. Brian Weiss. In reality, it’s pain. Only pain is real.

Every now and then, some things happen to make me believe more firmly in my reasons-seasons theory. For those of you who I haven’t shared this with, I believe that people come into our lives for three broad reasons – reasons, seasons and lifetimes. There’s no hard and fast rule to define these. It’s just up to each of us to figure out what make sense to us.

So a little about what each of these mean to me – the reason friends – these are the ones who stay in our lives for brief periods. They breeze in, help us deal with any issue that we may be facing at that particular point, and before we know it, poof! They’re gone. We know they’re gone. We know that they’ve made a difference. We’re happy to have known them. But then, they leave. The parting is sometimes bitter-sweet, sometimes not so difficult because you believe that at some point, your paths will cross again. And you kind of deal with it in your own way and move on. The reason is over.

Seasons friends. Often those who spend a number of years with you and are an integral part of specific phases. School, college, first place of work, so on and so forth. You have the best times and go through the worst, stick to each other through the rough and the tough, study together, discuss every stupid thing that invariably assumes such mountainous proportions only at that point. And then? You part ways. Definitely painful. You wonder why you make certain decisions and choose what seems implicitly tougher when there is an easier way. Why you have to grow up. You go your own way anyways. But the relationship still remains. You could bump into the same person a decade later and still feel the magic – like you’ve never been apart. And this is something that is extremely important to me, personally. I may not talk to certain people for years. Not meet them for an even longer time. But when I finally do talk to them, or meet them, the distances simply melt away.

Beyond these are the lifetime people. Friends, family, cousins, mentors, teachers, etc, etc. Who always remain with you. Whose presence you simply never miss. Cause you never feel like they’ve gone away. Which is how I feel about Varghese, my boss of six years. Someone who groomed me into what I am today, who knew what I was capable much before I did, who gave me the opportunity to explore different facets of the job, who cared enough to pull me back on track when I strayed (I’d like to believe that there were not too many such occasions), who rebuked me every time I should have known better and yet, never made me feel small over my mistakes. Six years I spent with him. And found the older brother I never had. We’ve been through so much together over so long that I’d never even fathomed a time when we would not be together. But then, the time came. It’s been close to 2 months since Varghese moved on. First up, I think I can reasonably say that I’m continuing to hold my own ground. And nobody – but nobody – is more surprised over this than I am. Secondly, I think the bond is just so strong and cemented (knock-wood) that I cant believe that he’s not with me. Here again, we haven’t been talking regularly. It doesn’t seem to matter. I remember a conversation we’d had a year ago when he was saying “There will come a day when you might move to some other place. But I don’t think it would matter. I think our relationship has crossed the point where it would matter that we don’t work together anymore.” And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly how it is.

Which brings me to the question – what is the relevance of a piece like this right now? What made me write it? It is in the hope that someone I have come to count on as a friend over an extremely short period of time remains a friend for life. I’m not sure if the person will realize that they are being referred to here. Maybe it would matter to me that the person knows. Then again, maybe it won’t.

There are few things that give me unadulterated joy. Spending time with my 11-year old cousin, seeing old couples sipping coffee together at a restaurant, watching Fernando or StevieG unerringly find the goal post, laughing at mad stuff with my favorite older brother – these are a few of the few things. The one thing that I hold closest to my heart though is spending time at the library on Saturdays, thumbing through the hundreds and hundreds of books, as I decide which ones to rent out.

I’ll never forget the first time the guy at the library stealthily pulled out some books from a shelf below and I was like “Yew! None of those for me!” only to realize that the poor guy had some choicy thrillers that he had reserved for me! Turned out to be some of the best fiction I may have never discovered on my own. And then, every single time I walk into the library, which used to be every Saturday, he would keep a set of books which he thought I’d like. I loved it that he had my taste down pat. These were books with strong storylines, with characters that came alive, and invariably, with some strong takeaway. Though I didn’t always like what he chose for me, I think he had a pretty decent hit rate of more than 75%.

More than choosing from what he had keeps aside for me, though, what makes me come alive is the actual process of gazing at the numerous shelves, lined with a million books (slight exaggeration, if you know which library I go to), just waiting for me to choose the right ones to take home with me. There have been so many times when I’ve randomly just stood there, blocking people’s way as I gaze at names and title. Though one good thing that did happen due to this was when someone recommended Jeffrey Deaver’s Twisted. Man, what a piece of writing that turned out to be! And that was the beginning of my reading like a whole series of Jeffrey Deavar’s books. I fell in love with Lincoln Rhyme right from the word go. Obviously, I see Denzel Washington in my mind everytime I read any of the Lincoln Rhyme books. And then I started getting into these obsessive phases, where, once I found a new author, I had to like devour every book written by the person! Right from Nicholas Evans to Vince Flynn to Tess Gerritsen to Mathew Reilly (just finished reading “6 Sacred Stones” – the book is testimony to the fact that true genius does exist) to William Bernhardt to Lee Child to David Baldacci to more of Michael Crichton. I mean, these were writers I would have probably never known, if not for those hours I spent in the library, looking for something to read.

Coming to think of it, the library as a concept itself seems to have exerted considerable influence on me, right through the years. I still remember the first two books I received as a birthday present when I was all of seven years old – from my aunt and her friend. The books were Aesop’s Fables and The Brave Little Tailor. Believe you me, I still remember the cover pages of these books, from more than 20 years ago, as well as the illustrations in these books. I remember the bound volumes of Chandamama that my aunt used to give me, as I spent countless summer afternoons as a little girl, lost in the world of Vikram and Betal, and countless other Indian stories. And then the Readers’ Digests that opened up a world that only the printed word holds a key to. That, as far as I remember, was the foundation for one of the true blessings in my life – this constant quest to find something to read, to find something that will give me that high, when I finally put down the book and say “Man, whatta ride!” The first library I became a member of – cant remember the name, but I remember this old man who used to run it and hate us kids – was where I stumbled upon the usual childhood delights – Enid Blyton, Archies, Asterix, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys and the rest. And I remember the summer holidays I spent working at a library right before I started class 10! I was paid a princely sum of Rs. 400 after 6 weeks of 8 hour days but what made me happier was the simple access to all these books! Oh boy! What I wouldn’t do to go back to those times!

So it’s been a while since I’ve actually taken the time to spend a quiet half hour with myself at the library on Saturday afternoons. For one, too many books already to catch up on at home. But it gives me a nice feeling when I do walk in once a month as opposed to once a week as earlier, and the guy there looks at me, bends down and hands me a set of books to pick from. I’ve been trying to get him to sell me just one of the SEVEN copies of Acts of Faith that he has. No luck. Must polish the persuasive skills.

"SAVING IS SIN, SPENDING IS VIRTUE"

A highly intellectual person wrote this... and i thought i must share it..... try it for a good read...

Happy Blogging!!

Japanese save a lot. They do not spend much. Also Japan exports far more than it imports. Has an annual trade surplus of over $100 billion. Yet Japanese economy is considered weak, even collapsing. Americans spend, save little. Also US import more than it exports. Has anannual trade deficit of over $400 billion. Yet, the American economy is considered strong and trusted to get stronger.
But where from do Americans get money to spend? They borrow from Japan, China and even India... Virtually others save for the US to spend. Global savings are mostly invested in US, in dollars. Indiaitself keeps its foreign currency assets of over $50 billion in US securities. China has sunk over $160 billion in US securities. Japan's stakes in US securities is in trillions.
Result: The US has taken over $5 trillion from the world. So, as the world saves for the US, Americans spend freely. Today, to keep the US consumption going, that is for the US economy to work, other countries have to remit $180 billion every quarter, which is $2 billion a day, to the US! Otherwise the US economy would go for a six. So will the global economy. The result will be no different if US consumers begin consuming less.
A Chinese economist asked a neat question. Who has invested more, US in China, or China in US? The US has invested in China less than half of what China has invested in US. The same is the case with India... We have invested in US over $50 billion. But the US has invested less than $20 billion in India ... Why the world is after US?
The secret lies in the American spending, that they hardly save. In fact they use their credit cards to spend their future income. That the US spends is what makes it attractive to export to the US. So US imports more than what it exports year after year.
The result:
The world is dependent on US consumption for its growth. By its deepening culture of consumption, the US has habituated theworld to feed on US consumption. But as the US needs money to finance its consumption, the world provides the money. It's like a shopkeeper providing the money to a customer so that the customer keeps buying from the shop. If the customer will not buy, the shop won't have business, unless the shopkeeper funds him. The US is like the lucky customer. And the world is like the helpless shopkeeper financier. Who is America's biggest shopkeeper financier? Japan of course. Yet it's Japan which is regarded as weak. Modern economists complain that Japanese do not spend, so they do not grow. To force the Japanese to spend, the Japanese government exerted it self, reduced the savings rates, even charged the savers. Even then the Japanese did not spend (habits don't change, even with taxes, do they?). Their traditional postal savings alone is over $1.2 trillions, about three times the Indian GDP. Thus, savings, far from being the strength of Japan, has become its pain.
Hence, what is the lesson? That is, a nation cannot grow unless the people spend, not save. Not just spend, but borrow and spend. Dr. Jagdish Bhagwati, the famous Indian-born economist in the US, told Manmohan Singh that Indians wastefully save. Ask them to spend, on imported cars and, seriously, even on cosmetics! This will put India on a growth curve.

"Saving is sin, and spending is virtue." Before you follow this neo economics, get some fools to save so that you can borrow from them and spend.
This is what US has successfully done in last few decades.
~~Professor Jagdish N Bhagwati

posted by Neha

I believe that Farhan Akhtar is a true example of God’s crafts(wo)manship (has to be a woman; only she could translate her vision into such perfection ). His looks, his charm, his voice as he belts out Socha Hai or as he croons Tum Ho Toh, those eyes. Oh yeah. I could go on and on. I’ll never forget the time when I went to watch the preview show of Rock On. Which a friend was kind enough to ensure I got to see. Truth be told, it was Arjun Rampal who was the original pull. And that indeed, is a story for another time. Coming back, I can recall in perfect detail, the way my jaw dropped when I saw Mr. Akhtar on the big screen for the first time. God is a woman indeed!

But there’s always been something nagging in the deep dark recesses of my mind. Ever since Dil Chahta Hai and we had this debate in class (film studies, I’m guessing) when a really close friend asked a question that has remained with me since then: why did Dimple Kapadia’s character have to die in the end? What if this character hadn’t died? And instead, if she had continued to have a relationship with a younger man, a relationship for which we may not be able to put a name? Would the movie have done just as well? Or better? Or not so well? Would the viewing audiences have accepted such an ending? What if these two characters were to be joined in holy matrimony? Would audiences have been more receptive to that? Was the forecasting of the box-office response a factor in determining the fate of the character? And eye-opening session Sonia Johnson, in case you do happen to stumble upon this piece, sometime, somewhere.

I’m not sure if this has been written about before. But these are thoughts / perspectives / opinions of my own. Call it another way of thinking aloud. Don’t get me wrong - I loved the film – feel, format, friendships. And yet, the very end. When Aamir Khan storms into Preity Zinta’s wedding? Now this is really tough. Aamir Khan is definitely the one man I have loved for the longest time in my life. No debate about it. Well, maybe after Boris Becker. I was 8 when I saw him first in QSQT and man! Was that sweet! Falling in love with him, I mean. So to see him do something like this. I don’t know. The character he plays till then – incredibly real, I thought. I’ll never forget one shot in Tanhai – when he is on the train – the train is moving in one direction and he sits in the other corner staring the other way. Symbolising the loneliness. Genius. Absolutely. But somehow the end, and the character that Zinta plays? Not what I would have thought. This whole thing of being so grateful to a family that’s supported a woman when she’s growing up is fine. But does that mean she has to marry the boy of the house? Even when she feels that this may not be what she wants? Thankfully, she realises that this is wrong for her and makes amends. But if such characters on screen can be strong enough to change their minds, why cant they be strong enough to make it up in the first place itself? What happens to Preity Zinta in Lakshya and the femme fatales in Don – I’m not really getting into too much detail on those here. Suffice to say that it left for a lot more to be desired.

The reason I’m writing this now is Luck by Chance. The role that Mr. Akhtar essays comes across an honest portrayal of what he, as a struggling actor, goes through. Everything, from the acting classes, to cajoling Mr. Bhatt’s AD to pass on his photographs, taking the grandfather clock for the shoot and helping a friend in dire need. Some of the scenes, I could learn a lot from, especially given the profession I’m in. The easy charm with Dimple Kapadia’s character, how he oh so subtly eliminates competition in the last round and needless to say, turning out to be what probably a lot of other men would be. But it is Konkana Sen, with her last word, who is bound to remain with me for a much longer time. Her stand when Vikram meets her towards the end to apologise, her words - that it is guilt this time around that has brought him back, there may always be a next time and over and beyond all this, where does she feature in his list of priorities? – these are things that so many women go through. Not just in terms of marriages or relationships but also in terms of platonic relationships. It made me wonder. Why doesn’t Preity Zinta’s character ask these questions in DCH? Yes, the characters are so different. Yes, that was made a number of years back (but still, later than a film where a girl marries the man who originally loved her mother). Yes, maybe the audiences have evolved over the years. But maybe – just maybe - because LBC is made by a woman? Ms. Akhtar, no less. Just something to mull over.

Everything said and done, mine still remains one of the million hearts you broke, Mr. Akhtar (ref: Oye It’s Friday, featuring Deepika Padukone)

i'm so glad for the day i stumbled upon david baldacci's "the collectors". and i write this under the strong influence of the last baldacci novel that i read "stone cold". oliver, reuben, milton and caleb. the four members of the camel club. first of all, i loved the books themselves for what they are. but beyond that, what has really stayed with me after everytime i've read a camel club novel is the whole thing about sticking up for your beliefs. i love the imagery of 60-year old oliver seeking nothing but the truth from the powers that be. standing up for what he believes in. the image of oliver as he sits on a bench, bonding with alex ford, the secret service agent. two men on the opposite sides of the fence, but who happen to share the same beliefs nonetheless. there are some characters who have such a strong impact on me sometimes that i marvel at the wrtiers themselves. i mean, to wield such power over readers' minds is tremendous ability indeed. and one such character for me will always be Tom Hemingway from "the camel club". the way the character unfolds through is intriguing to say the least. and then, when the rationale behind Hemingway's actions is put forth, i mean, i think all of us go through these situations where the end justifes the means and it is our past that invariably makes us what we are.

coming back to the camel club, the nature of the relationship between the four characters is really interesting. one ex-CIA agent, a librarian, a third one with OCD and the fourth who is now loading ships, having worked with the Govt earlier. again, i think the disillusionment that is so subtly weaved into Oliver's character (but is verrry there) is something that really touches me. at least on an individual level. here's a man who works for the CIA, who undertakes assignments handed over to him in the sincere belief that what he's doing makes the rest of the world a safer place to live in. and then, he begins to feel that this is not the whole picture. so he tries to make amends. get out of the game before its too late. and what happens next? his wife is murdered by men who used to work with him and his daughter is taken away. never to know him. the empty grave, John Carr and Carter Gray. it's quite possible that everyone of us knows at least one Carter Gray in our midst. and yet, when the story unfolds in "Stone Cold", though there is loathing, i somehow felt something more for this head of intelligence. yes, one reason could be that he loses his wife and daughter in the 9/11 attacks. but beyond that, when the truth about what happened thrity years ago is disclosed, combined with the radical change in the character, one cant but feel a little sorry for this man. i guess power does come with a price tag attached. and the question is invariably the same: is it worth it?