Skip to main content

You brought me a New Set of Eyes

After a too hectic fortnight, finally settled on the expanded couch with my three year old to watch the re run of The Revenge of Fallen-Transformer, on lazy Sunday.
Some times to think of out, our childhood was pretty deprived in the sense that we never had such movies in those times. Wonderful theme, wonderful performance and marvellous dialogues like ," Sam, fate rarely chooses us at the time of our choosing." I believe such words are way too portions for the age at which the movie is targeted but out would be wonderful if kids at that age could put some mind about it, to pause and ponder. I sometime do feel many of these jewels I would have missed, had it not been for my daughter. As she grows and get little selective about movies she wants to watch on Sunday mornings, I have already started missing those popcorn laden Sundays, she to my surprise refused to go watch Batman last weekend in favour of shopping trip with her mother. I do wonder in a tiny sorrow as feminist traits stepping into her kiddy world draws her away as she behind liking the pink and things like that.
In between we stumbled on the digital frame with her old pictures, set it up to see one again her hairless head and toothless grin. Need to collate some more pictures and populate the frame. It just reminded me of new set eyes which I had gained for years back that made me watch a whole new set of movies which I never thought existed, starting from Kung fu Panda, and which made the world around me so vivid in colours and so resplendent in a new light.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Writer's Block- A Moment of Self-Doubt

I almost gave up writing for good seven to eight years. A period during which I wrote nothing but office mails and minutes of meetings and contracts and such things, dreary and dull, devoid of any beauty or romance. I would write in my mind, sentences getting written and erased in my mind. I quit smoking right at the turn of the century and the glamor of smoke forming poetry in the air to be scribbled with urgency was lost. So I did not write, until couple of years back a sense of loss, a scary thought of dying with all my thoughts faced me. Something told me I had it in me. It used to be fun. It used to be exceptionally fun  in good old, pre-computer days when I would write on a paper with my pen. I felt that I was living half my life, with a half a me, the half which carried the truer sense of me, stifled and locked inside me. I would be loud, obvious, and laugh with the crowd which obliterated and belittled the intensity of thought. I laughed with a voice which scar...

The Politics of Language- Rekhta

Languages live and die with human interests. Language does not have with in it to carry itself through public apathy. Language cannot survive vacuum and apathy. One of the biggest loss of the 21 st century is the death of languages. While technology has been one cause of it, religious appropriation and attribution is another important reason. Suddenly we have Latin for Christians, Sanskrit for Hindus and Urdu for Muslims. Absolutist religions have brought clash of civilization to our doorsteps. This reflects in the election of Donald Trump in the US and the books on Islamic supremacy being in best-sellers in France. It is not totally unfounded. Technology connects the mankind in unprecedented manner. Therefore, famines of Bengal in 18 th and 19 th century could not cause mass transfer of humanity from Asia to Europe nor could most bloody of wars in 7 th century push people westwards, as much as it could today. One can easily call names to people who are simplistic and intelle...

Disjointed Thoughts On Writing- Blog Post on Writing

Writing in itself is a difficult task. No one wants anyone to write. Still people write. Some write expertly and leave their work for the posterity, some write shoddily, struggling like yours truly, and await readers. I try to write, as routinely as possible, if nothing else. I have been struggling with getting the manuscript of my collection of stories readied for publishing.  Writing is easy. Being a writer is not. I have been struggling to edit the stories. There is a wonderful book- The Writer's Journal - by Virginia Woolf, which I keep going back to, now and then. No one impresses the difference between knowing how to write and writing better than Ms. Woolf.  "..I think writing must be formal. The art must be respected." writes Ms. Woolf.  I have come to realize how hard it is as I am editing my stories and trying to reach what could be a perfect name for the collection. However, the entire travel for a week could not find me finishing the task at hand. ...