Adam Joan is a
serious intense film, intense in emotions, about the members of the Pothen family partly settled in Scotland. They get embroiled in the practices of a Satanic cult when Ila, their youngest member, is kidnapped during an Easter season in Scotland. The film is narrated as little stories of guilt and misgivings of each of the Pothens, which in turn, casts doubts on each of them, with respect to the kidnap of the little girl. Set in the backdrop of the Christian and the Satanic church, this film makes for an interesting visual and ritualistic contrast. Read the rest of the review here.
There is some attraction I have towards the puttu.. Puttu Or it could be that I’m awake early to take pictures when MJ makes puttu, start to hover around and go on a clicking spree. One of the few people in my life who doesn’t drive me out of the kitchen because of my food clicking ways.
The moment i open my mouth in some places and say something harsh, they call me a feminist
The moment i stubbornly stick to my decision they call me a feminist
The moment i wear chuncky jewellery and walk in ultra big jhumkas they call me a feminist
If i go with my friends for a late night film, i’m a feminist
If i travel alone for the fun of travelling, i’m a feminist
If i try to concentrate on my career i’m a feminist..
If i make my man cook a meal, i’m a feminist
But nobody calls me a feminist when i choose the general seats instead of those allotted to “ladies” in public transport or public places
Nobody calls me a feminist when i join the mens/general queue to buy tickets at a station or cinema hall
Nobody calls me a feminist when i buy stuff to cook my own food in my own home
Nobody calls me a feminist when I guffaw louder with my girl gangs
Nobody calls me a feminist when i wheel in my own bags..
Nobody calls me a feminist when i laugh at the buffoonery that goes on in the name of feminism
What is to be a feminist?
O I spoke too soon
The weather, the light streaming from the sky
Woke up to sunlight, typed it to a friend, sent happy smileys her way
But the clouds in queue, impateint they grew.
I spoke to soon!
I wake up to see this little girl, white tee, blue shorts, her hair held back in two pony tails to either side, all of 5-6 on her window sill. She has her legs out towards the grill, dangling, playing with her red and white polka dotted balloon. When I walk towards the window to see her better, across the courtyard there is, a little boy, and another little girl on opposite window sills. Talk of cross communication, across the yard..
Bombay windows have these metal cages protruding outwards. They work as storage spaces but mostly are used to tie cloth lines and dry clothes. They even work as passageways, from one room to the next when they are interlinked – outdoor tunnels 😂 In one of the houses, I used to stay before, I used to step into this grill space and sit down there to read. From 7 floors high, the world below, across and above had a different charm. Nobody would even know I’d be sitting there, with a book, at times looking at the world, waiting for the sun to rise, with a cup of coffee.. Looking at the squirrels do tightwire stunts over electric cables or watch pigeons sleeping.. All those memories flooded in as I saw these imps pow wow today, as I woke up this morning.
As I type, they are out of their sill spots and in the yard, their balloons in hand, trying to make some game out of it. Childhood, there was a game, even in the way we snapped fingers or clapped hands, laughed out loud when the rain drizzled down.. There was even a first shoutout to whoever was completely drenched, or other days, a race to that dry spot first..
Sun’s day Tales..
Some things are precious, could be people, could be thoughts, could be a dialogue, today I need to come to terms with the fact that my phone, my beloved partner of two years is dying.. What do i do, i let it live for a few more hours, it is like a desktop now.. Needs to be wired all the time, even when it connects to the wireless..
Am i heart broken? No, I’ve never been sentimental about anything as such, but it is a matter of habit, a habit of two years.. My entire life so to speak revolved around … Okay, I’m bordering on the dramatic. Is there any way to revive this thing..
For starters, i dont like this new editor from wordpress. Why, because it does not suggest, it does not point out mistakes, it does not autocorrect spellings, spacing.. If it was the older editer, that I in the first line would have already been capitalized. Little things like that. We become used to these little gimmicks in the name of convenience.
The writing has gone back to become raw! The thoughts that come out thru the tap of my fingers through the keypad. But I like it this way, than having a piece of technology second guess my words and thoughts, I’ve been one of those who have proclaimed a war against autocorrect elsewhere. 😁
This is also conditioning. This is how it works.. Any kind of it.
How difficult is it to make friends?
Friends like they often quote in proverbs don’t fall out of the sky .. Or walk into our lives while we are standing lonely as a cloud somewhere in the middle of a road, stranded.. Friends may not, strangers may, and many times, these strangers begin to become the people of our lives.. Are they friends..? It is a niggling doubt.
Ive always had people around me, wherever I’ve been.. To go out for tea at 3 in the morning, or to cajole somebody to watch that stupid film in a theatre, or share my breakfast with at the mess table.. I’ve never been devoid of people in my life. But will all of them stand by me thru thick and thin.. I’m not sure. Those kind of friends I feel are one of book legends…and one need not always expect too that somebody will.. Because circumstances change, and they make people change, which brings changes to what being friends are..
But, that guatantee that you’ll be there, stays.. Forge such bonds… Now that I think is what these proverbs mean.