All these months, while I was working and acting very busy, I have missed blogging terribly. I always think, life at Mumbai is too exhaustive. You don’t have time to think of anything else but work. And that can create emptiness inside you. My problem, perhaps is that I think too much about things which I should not, and too superficially about things, which I should. I like to believe that I love reading and writing. But I have no time! Or rather, I am lazy, too lazy to take time out from my “busy” days. But now I have decided (one of those resolutions!!!) to make the most of my time and days.
Today I saw “Water” by Deepa Mehta. I would say I am plain lucky to have been at the place where it was being screened. And somehow I decided to join the people watching it. I knew they were screening Water but I did not know it was that controversial movie. I liked the movie over all but critically speaking the actings of John Abraham and Lisa Ray left a little more room for improvement. But atleast here, John acts! I had found Lisa good in Kasoor, but of course Divya Dutta dubbed for her. I n Water, especially, when Lisa Ray comes to know about the name of John’s father. I thought, that particular moment demanded more to be spoken in terms of expressions and body language! Or, how should I put it, this scene needed a little more weight. Because it was a crucial moment in the story. Also, I did not particularly like the way John reacted when he came to know that Lisa had committed suicide. I thought it seemed that Lisa had just gone out of town rather than out of this world. But undoubtedly, Seema Biswas and the little girl were brilliant. All said and done, I think Deepa Mehta’s effort is laudable. And more than that she deserves a salute for her determination to make this movie. "Water" evoked in me a thirst to know more about the plight of those women in the past. I remember, I read in India today (or was it Outlook?) that in Vrindavan, there are still such ashrams where widows stay together. They pass their days raying and do not have any money on them for their sustenance. They are required to live a life of giving up everything in the name od widowhood. Today, in this world, this whole idea seems ludicrous, but in those days, this was the reality for any widow. I am glad I was not born yesterday....I mean in those days. May be I was, in some other body, in some other form!
Right now I am reading Collected stories Part-2 by Shashi Deshpande and May you be the mother of a Hundred Sons by Elisabeth Bumiller. After reading 4 books by Shashi Deshpande and hundreds by other authors, I have reached a conclusion today-- I love this author. Or rather I would say, I idolise her. If I ever became a writer, I would like to write like her. Her stories are actually not stories. Not in the typical way. It does not necessarily have a typical beginnng and the cliched ending, but it tells you a story. A very different kind of story. It would tell you about complexities of characters, of life being grey, of plethora of emotions, stories held in moments, hours or a few days. The books which I am going to read next are Ice-Candy-Man by Bapsi Sidhwa and Mediocre but Arrogant by Abhijit Bhaduri.