Reverie

Caveat: This is to certify that the contents of this post is the result of a little experimentation of writing skills.

How to watch a movie?

When the first Indian feature film made by Dadasaheb Phalke (3700 feet long) was released in 1913, none could fathom its effect on the public sphere in just over nine decades. The practice of movie watching became a cult phenomenon. When one considers the modest beginnings to today’s multiplexes and the various sources ranging from CD’s, DVD’s, downloads in this world of umpteen choices, truly one ends perplexed “how to watch a movie?”

The usual hullabaloos of a weekend rush, the last minute touches to the set hair right, the gentle tug to straighten the crease of a shirt or pull up the jeans and tighten the belt, a little dab of cologne spray, packet popcorn or ice-lolly and the long winding snakelike queue that moves at a snails pace are distant memories from childhood days of a closing era in this wi-fi age. The jam-packed seats and the huge screens and the electrifying atmosphere where the protagonist appears among ooh’s, aah’s and even catcalls amid the die hard fans, the theatre ceases to be a four walled fence, but a dreamland unplugged.

For a dose of ‘apna Filmistan’ one needs to enjoy this exciting atmosphere with its dts features and the big screen transporting the common man into the realms of dreams which is a myth in real life. This is the most favoured and preferred medium of enjoying a film. To add on this event includes family union, chitchat, a chill out or freak out, an evening with a spouse or girlfriend or an out and out quality time spent with friends and family. “Nothing makes it more realistic” says Shekar who is an avid movie buff.

But Time had its own plans and no one thought it innocuous when Jack Kilby made I.C. chip a reality. This marked the commencement of the digital age which ushered products that was beyond ones imagination and lo there was no time lost by the Makers themselves to realise the opening a crisply marketed PR commodity commands. Up came the home theatre idea, CD’s, DVD’s and downloadable version virtually free of cost. Now the long winding queue and giant screen idea transformed into a portable ready to use disk on convenience. This altered the ego of the moviegoer and in time the much ness of choices spoiled the grand audience and they opted for the option that suited them most. This sad case stated by a theatre assistant, Madhavankutty, gives us the bigger picture.

“The same scene on a giant screen, TV, PC or home theatre brooks no difference today “says Riky, a freelance PC assembler, “You get the same story and people, then why not at my fancy and inclinations. It makes sense when you watch the time you desperately want to see it.” Cutting across differences is the tide is the lure technology which has been a trendsetter making the people savvy of its hand-outs.

Unto this comes the parable-how to watch it? By the law of averages a typical Indian prefers an outing to the domes of the black room where his wish is granted. To the youth a hang out and outing party, to those who love stacking a video, library is the perfect heaven and a hardware store Manna. To the Tech-savvy an online edition may seem the ultimate prize and as it remains for the common man- it boils down to convenience like sipping hot coffee with the entire family(if joint also) making his world complete and also well inside his economic budget. In the end one need not read a silly feature or rush for a review but listen to ones heart and take that first step and follow through. That’s the catch than the illusion of choice. After all’s said and done, we follow our inclinations!!!

Nonentity

Integrity

The rains had come and gone. Sewers overflowed strewing garbage along the tarry roads while the traffic came to a standstill, the grinding life of the city ceased. The weather was cold, people seldom ventured out save for essential commodities. The queue at the ration-shop was the like a coiled never-ending line and beside the crowd was a small kid hardly twelve with a small packet in his hand, staring blankly as the queue moved on, his eyes were riveted on the shop. He hardly spoke a word, but his tattered, oversized dress labelled his poverty. A few looked at him with contempt, some swore but he stood stock-still, like a rock, full of determination. The crowds thinned, the streets gradually became empty yet he stood his ground. He went to the shopkeeper and asked politely “Saheb my remaining paise” he had been waiting for the man to get his balance. The man replied “No change, come tomorrow”. The boy looked up in despair “But, but.. Saheb, I saw change the last customer gave….”. “You bloody son of a bitch, teaching me my business?” he lashed out at the boy; he fell on the wet bog, full of slime and grime. He got up slowly and walked up to the man and stared at him. With a swift movement he snatched the knife on the table and pointed it at the shopkeeper and said “My money…” the terrified owner handed him the change, cursing and muttering, the boy looked at him with pity and spat at him. He walked away.

A wind blew and rupees flew out of the open drawer, the man scurried to gather them… I stood transfixed, a melancholy swept over me. The man swore “Ruffian, bastard, baby faced villains, should lock up such anti social elements”. Touched, I was, but I couldn’t help thinking did he really deserve this ill-treatment? Was it his fault to be an upright lowborn than be a spineless fool? The assembled crowd looked with forced admiration, dispersed in silence. Did it help the cause or was it the embodiment of the silent spectator who lives and yearns for the life that was fairly granted to him as to any other? The silence hung like a heavy pall broken by the ripples of falling rain, I was left wondering why did he not rob the man for all the troubles he underwent? Truly he deserved compensation. Later only did it dawn on me that it was his integrity that made him a human among the crowd of zombies….

Down memory lane...

A New Day Has Dawned

The last rays of the sun parted a mellowing glow over the horizon, the bustling city-crowds trotted nonchalantly alongside the heavy traffic, too self-immersed to notice the vagaries of life around. The cool breeze had the curtains fluttering in the draught of evening air, the window being more than a kaleidoscope. The view was magnificent, its aura shining like a halo over the brisk bustling city too engrossed to see a little boy in his shorts who dragged himself inside the garbage basket left at the mercy of the Brihan-Mumbai-Mahanagarpalika, scouring fervently for something with an avid fervour, his eyes burning feverishly over the foul-smelling heaps of waste in vain hope. Those eyes never seemed to rest and in the midst of this he gave a cry of joy, his eyes gleamed as if lady luck had finally smiled on him, he had his treasure within his reach. He bent down to pick it. A big street dog bounded in emitted a fierce growl, frothing and foaming, menace in its eyes, picked up a piece of rotten toast and was out of sight in seconds. Those eyes glistened with crystal clear rivulets running down his dirty cheeks, marking its flow, as he jumped out in despair, his face down, kicking the ground in disgust…

My coffee remained on the table, cold, as the skies changed hues for the rest of the evening…