tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67114610393015600392024-03-13T13:18:07.673-07:00more than ink and paper...the lexicon of my life...in the making.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-23071010520624774712017-08-14T01:17:00.000-07:002017-08-14T01:17:54.845-07:00The beautiful threads between Terrence Malick and Stanley Kubrick - Film Review TO THE WONDER<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> Revered for his surreal cinematic
storytelling, Terrence Malick is back (in just two years) with <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">his latest
silver-screen offering “To the Wonder”. </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Famous for somewhat
creating his own genre,</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">
</span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Malick’s latest stays true to its dramatic core and artistic
value, magnificently exploring the theme of <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">love, with his organic style of visual imagery. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The film begins in Paris and moves
to Oklahoma with <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">our
principal characters Niel (Ben Affleck) and Maria (</span><span lang="EN-IN"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olga_Kurylenko" title="Olga Kurylenko"><span style="background: white; color: windowtext; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Olga Kurylenko</span></a></span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">), as we engulf with them
into <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">the innate purity of love, that we all experience at the
threshold of becoming someone else’s, all the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">way up till that confounding stage of diluted passion.
Malick’s emphatic story telling makes us <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">undergo, accept and understand the loss of love, which is the
central theme of this film. His style of <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">storytelling, which is profoundly detailed yet ambiguous,
does complete justice to this cinematic love <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">letter called “To the Wonder”, which seems less like a “film”
and more like a visual poetry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"> The film opens
with flashes of landscapes rushing by a train window, as if subconsciously</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">preparing the audience for a journey, followed by broken
images glorifying <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>innocence of two
people <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">who are falling deeply in love. It is coupled with soft and
dreamy dialogue, which seems as much a <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">part of the film’s narrative, as it seems to be your own
thought process. This very style of visual story <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">telling by Malick is where his brilliance lies. The visuals
and dialogues together make you empathise<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">and recollect the small details of life, finally making you
nostalgic; as if you have, at some stage of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">your life, thought and felt the same things, asked the same
questions. It can be argued that <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Malick prefers this style, to derive these very emotions from
its viewers. The whole film is like an <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">urge. Its urges the audience to think and ask more frequently
what they do ask, but seldom, to <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">appreciate <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and
understand how naturally people fall in love, how innocently they give in and
how <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">they give up as well, with just as much ease. The couple
takes a trip to Mont St. Michel, the island <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">abbey off the coast of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Normandy,
symbolising it as the monument of their love, the place where <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">their bonds deepened as they merged into each other and felt
it’s wonder. To signify their bond, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">waters at the shores of Normandy divinely become one with
pristine and concave wet sand, and <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">leave us feeling complete. Our set up then moves to Oklahoma,
where the landscape is starkly <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">different from Paris. It is sunny, projecting Maria’s happiness,
but it gradually becomes empty, to <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">reflect her loneliness. It is the use of Malick’s extraordinary
sense of visuals, delivered to perfection <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">by cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, that those very
landscapes which emanated Maria’s <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">loneliness, also exemplify Jane’s (</span><span lang="EN-IN"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rachel_McAdams" title="Rachel McAdams"><span style="background: white; color: windowtext; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Rachel McAdams</span></a>)</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> “home”. Jane enters Niel’s
life as a medium to <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">exemplify his fear of commitment. She comes with her own
light and fight and gives Niel the love he <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">had lost with Maria. She has been very intelligently used to
inspire Niel and make him understand himself. Oklahoma also introduces us to </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">Father Quintana (<span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">Javier Bardem</span>)</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">, a priest in
search of god, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">carrying the burden of doubting his own faith. He preaches those
in need and brings solace to <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">criminals through his spirituality. Malick has not given him
a specific plot, but has used him as a <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">poetic guide for the audience and for the characters. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asks questions that everyone has asked, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">and in doing so, he bizarrely gives direction to our thought
process about Niel and Maria’s love that <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">is slipping away. He makes us accept that we may love with
all our heart and yet somehow loose it <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">all. He makes us seek what he has been seeking, yet still, he
makes us realise we can all figure it out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The lack of passion and the deteriorating love can still be
dealt with and can, in some way or the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">other, still be fixed. It is amazing, how Malick has been
able to achieve all of that without ever <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">directly mentioning it, just through an instrumental
character. A small fact of life, that we lose <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">ourselves as we divulge into the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>one we love has also been established to us
through a sudden <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">character entry. Anna (</span><span lang="EN-IN">Romina
Mondello), Maria’s friend, suddenly enters and reminds her of how <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">free she used to be, she also reminds her
of how passionate her love for Niel was and how it has all <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">changed now. She suddenly comes and opens
Maria’s now closed heart. Anna does all this by not <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">pointing it out to her; that will never
happen in a Terrence Malick movie. She simply runs with her, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">throws away her bags, yells on the streets
and tells her “</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Life's a dream. In dream you can't make <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">mistakes. In dream you can be whatever you want.<span class="apple-converted-space">”</span></span><span lang="EN-IN"> </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The most
intriguing fact about “To the Wonder” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">however, is not it’s beautiful yet one of a kind narrative
style, it’s dreamy cinematography or its <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">theme about the loss of love (they have been portrayed to
perfection by the director); it is the sheer <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">way of portraying its actors as the characters. No where do you
see Ben Affleck as the star himself, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">he has been shown just as the character and nothing more. In
fact, the beginning sequence of the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">film does not even see much of his face clearly, as it has entirely
been dedicated to how mesmerised <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">he is by Maria. Lubezki has managed to capture to perfection,
the essence of lost souls that Malick <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">had penned down on paper. The visuals are abstract and
dreamlike yet strong and impactful. Nature <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">has played its own character in the background in Lubeski’s
shots. There is almost always a sun glare <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">in the film so keep the wonder alive. Almost every element
makes its way in to the story and <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">augments the theme. The water that settled perfectly on the
wet sand in the beginning, has <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">sometimes returned to become the distance between the two and
sometimes the turmoil. Jane <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">carries the wind in her hair and brings a new freshness to
Niel’s life . The use of light, or sometimes <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">the absence of it has been crucial in taking audience towards
the place where Malick wants to see <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">them. Another element that keeps us entwined with the film is
the melancholic music by </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">Hanan
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">Townshend. It does
total justice to the wonder of the film and acts like the soul of the story, so
much <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">so that one may or
may not register it, but it will always have an impact. For some, “To the
Wonder” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">may seem
unfulfilling and over indulgent, and they may be justified. However, this film <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">does not follow
any conventional rules of cinema. It is a purely cinematic endeavour to portray
to <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">the world the most
accepted and questioned, yet ignored truth about life; how and why do we loose <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">love. Malick has
portrayed this raw emotion with profound ease, as if he has tasted it himself. So
it is <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">only fair to say
that many may not understand his un-conventional style of filming such deep and
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">layered emotions
as the fundamental problems of life. Like Roger Ebert, said, “There will be
many <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">who find "To
the Wonder" elusive and too effervescent. They'll be dissatisfied by a
film that would <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">rather evoke than
supply. I understand that, and I think<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">Terrence Malick</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>does,
too. But here he has <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">attempted to reach
more deeply than that: to reach beneath the surface, and find the soul in
need.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;"> Terrence Malick has been often been
compared to the genius of Stanley Kubrick, and though <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">there are stark
differences between the two, there are even deeper similarities. Kubrick once
said, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">“</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">The screen is a magic medium. It has such power that it can retain interest
as it conveys emotions <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">and moods that no other art form can hope to tackle.”</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;"> His words fit so effortlessly with the
celluloid <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">world created by
Malick’s films. Although both the directors are famous for their mystics
absence <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">from the media, it
is not the only common factor between the two, also not the most significant <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">one either. While Kubrick
had very tightly composed shots with a definitive camera movement, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">always
specifically lit and shot in the precise way only a passionate photographer’s
mind could find <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">important,
Malick’s shots are handheld, feathery and dreamlike, always maintaining an
equilibrium <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">between his
wondrous romance with life and the harmony of his story. And yet they both have
the <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">same urge of
dealing with deep layers of emotions that are so apparent in both their films.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">Their films always
raise questions so deep that they often go ignored. Not to mention their bold <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">styles. If Kubrick
was bold in turning a the cold war scenario in to a comedy, Malick is bold in <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">breaking <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>all the conventional methods of storytelling
and the hero’s journey. They are both <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">opposite in their <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>approaches, and yet fit in perfectly with each
other. Malick’s previous work “Tree <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">of life” shows
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">graphic in his
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">fundamental questions
so effortlessly executed for screen. Another amazing resemblance between <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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maker’s passion for telling their stories through the medium of film, is their
well <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white;">justified
obsession with detailing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Kubrick
took various NASA lessons and conducted immense </span><span style="background-color: white;">technical researches
to create the precision of the Space Odyssey, Malick searched the country for t</span><span style="background-color: white;">hat</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">grand oak tree for “Tree of Life” that justified his magnum-opus thought behind the script. In</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background-color: white;">Lolita, Kubrick used </span><span lang="EN-IN">leisurely paced scenes that compelled the viewers to mentally withdraw </span><span lang="EN-IN">themselves from the high of </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span lang="EN-IN">the moment and soak the entire gravity of the situation. Similarly, </span>Malick does not let a moment pass juts by shifting a shot, but keeps it lingering long enough for the viewers to grasp the depth and importance of those emotions. Like Kubrick keeps his</div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">cinematography character driven, whether it is through movement or lenses , Malick’s sense of <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">cinematography is driven by the principal emotion.</span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> </span><span lang="EN-IN">Suffice it to say that Malick has been inspired by <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IN">Kubrick in deeper ways than visible and it shows brilliantly in his work.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;"> “To the Wonder” has beautifully
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">in our
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reality, where</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">characters
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endeavour of</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">materialising
these abstract values with full clarity. His characters, locations, camera
movements, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">music and
theme are so profoundly intertwined, that they all seem to emanate from a
bizarre Omni-</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">present
reality that is ever present in the film, all behaving together as an entity in
itself. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">its
unconventional style may not fully satisfy a conventional viewer, it has its
own set of followers,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">yearning to
come face to face with more such values through Malick’s vision. It is only
perfect to end </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-language: HI;">with
another quote from Roger Ebert, </span><span lang="EN-IN" style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">"A more conventional film would have assigned a
plot to</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
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filmmakers, appears almost naked here before his audience, a man not</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-16970464956696246482013-11-05T15:16:00.002-08:002016-01-19T00:16:37.678-08:00फिर से तुलसी चखते हैं | (Poetic attempts to strengthen long broken bonds)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-15ABZPaV4hI/Unl7pPGfRPI/AAAAAAAAAeM/8_ysSrWqKRc/s1600/197785_197308403622434_5171606_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-15ABZPaV4hI/Unl7pPGfRPI/AAAAAAAAAeM/8_ysSrWqKRc/s320/197785_197308403622434_5171606_n.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
(<u>Nirmal (</u><u>निर्मल)</u> was my Grandfather's name and <u>Vidya (</u><u>विद्या)</u> was my Grandmother's. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I am dedicating this poem to our carefree days of childhood that are not riddled with fake egos of adulthood. I have no shame in saying things are wrong. I hope these poems affect those who share the same hurdles in adult relationships. Families grow up with love and break with age. No one says it out loud. I do. Lets hope anyone feeling or going through the same phase figures it out. Lets hope this poem helps them.)</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
जिन सीढ़ियों पे आठ जोड़े पैर</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
उंगलियाँ नापा करते थे,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
उन पर अब हमारे अहम की नज़र भी जाना ना चाहे |</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
छोटी छोटी उँगलियों से</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
जिन छतों पर हम बाजे बजाते,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
उन्ही छतों से ऊँचे बड़े अब बैर हैं हमारे |</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
सफ़ेद से अक्षर काले खम्बों पे</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
लिखा करते थे,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
अरे हम धुलने वाली साड़ियों से </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
घर बुना करते थे |</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
तुलसी को चखते थे,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
आंगन में झूलते;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
नाली से निकली हुई गेंद को</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
मार मार के सुखाना ना भूलते |</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
उन्ही काले खम्बों में और कपड़ों के ढेर में;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
टूटे पुराने झूले,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
और न जाने कितनी सूखी गेंदों में;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
नरमी हमारी अटक गयी है |</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
मासूम से थे हम,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
अब जान कर अंजान है;</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
पर क्या करें हम,</div>
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की ये दूरी हमें खटक नहीं रही है |</div>
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ये क्यूँ खटक नहीं रही है?</div>
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बचपन में ही छोड़ दिया वो <u>निर्मल</u> मन और उसकी <u>विद्या</u>.</div>
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इस उम्र की जिद हमसे छूट नहीं रही है |</div>
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अब इस उम्र की जिद हमसे टूट नहीं रही है |</div>
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बिनती है तुम सबसे,</div>
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आपस के दरवाज़े खोलो |</div>
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उसी <u>निर्मल</u> मन से,</div>
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चालों मिल कर हाथ जोड़ो |</div>
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दिल से उसकी <u>विद्या</u> को याद करते हैं,</div>
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चलो उसी आँगन मे, </div>
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फिर से तुलसी चखते हैं |</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-15575762415678097492012-05-11T11:21:00.001-07:002012-05-11T11:21:07.293-07:00Dedicated to my Late Grand Father<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-QCviBzUpI/T61YaOiYP4I/AAAAAAAAAN8/vhumDxfE-sA/s1600/294702_10150316027901919_518851918_8025331_2039522653_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-QCviBzUpI/T61YaOiYP4I/AAAAAAAAAN8/vhumDxfE-sA/s320/294702_10150316027901919_518851918_8025331_2039522653_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">जो तू होता आज यहाँ, </span><br />
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तुझको "तू" न कहती मै |</div>
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इतनी दूर तू बैठा है,</div>
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तुझको माँ - सा याद करती मै |</div>
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एक उसे तू कहा,</div>
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एक तुझको तू कहती मै |</div>
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मिलता था तो "आप" कहती,</div>
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काश तब भी "तू" वाला <span id="6_TRN_1r">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: normal;">प्यार</span> करती मै |</span></div>
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तेरे बिना घर घर नहीं लगता,</div>
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तेरे बच्चों को अब डर नहीं लगता |</div>
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जिन्हें खिलाता था तू दाल रोटी,</div>
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शायद भूल गए हैं सूरत तेरी |</div>
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बेटा बेटी पोता पोती,</div>
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सब भूल गए हैं सीरत तेरी |</div>
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अब तो लगता है जैसे,</div>
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एक तू ही आखरी बरगद था |</div>
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तेरे जैसा मन क्या,</div>
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तेरी आह जैसा कोई दिल ना रहा |</div>
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तेरी पूजा जैसा कोई मंदिर ना रहा,</div>
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तेरे घर जैसा कोई छत ना रहा |</div>
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गिन गिन कर दिन अब काट टी मै,</div>
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तेरी खातिर चुप रह जाती मै |</div>
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जो तू होता आज यहाँ,</div>
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सबको चुप कर जाती मै |</div>
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जो तू होता आज यहाँ, <div>
तुझको "तू" न कहती मै |</div>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-51381716763013672722011-07-24T10:21:00.000-07:002011-07-24T23:40:14.094-07:00जो भी हो सो हो ...<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3N52LWWFOp0/TixU9JPQRfI/AAAAAAAAAMU/W-5GH_xEDZY/s1600/znmd.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3N52LWWFOp0/TixU9JPQRfI/AAAAAAAAAMU/W-5GH_xEDZY/s320/znmd.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632970643362301426" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">i frankly dont know why i am writing this note...i am not tagging any one...those who really want to...will read it any way..</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">first things first...this is not a review...although it might seem like one...i wont be scrambling the anatomy of the film's screenplay...the bottom line is that this film works...may be because it tells the truth...of how trapped we are...and how we cant let go...and how badly we want to..it shows us the things we want to do but dont...quaintness we want to experience but cant...silences we want to touch but will not...</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">it has tought me a lot and justified my love for film making...the lingering feel it has left me with...makes me want to cut down allot of things from my bucket list...yes...i have always had one...i dont know where this note is going...but i just want to jot down some where about this after taste...its like drinking water...mountain water may be...but ZNMD stands tall because of what it shows (not how it shows) ...and may be someday...we all will break free of our shackels...may be ill start falling in love with myself...may be you will...with some one else...but the philosophy of living each moment...no matter how romantic it may sound...is a luxury of the "haves"...currently...i am a "have not"...but the main point is..</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><i><br /></i></p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px; "><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Jab jab dard ka baadal chaya</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Jab ghum ka saya lehraya</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Jab aansoo palkon tak aya</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Jab yeh tanha dil ghabraya</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Humne dil ko yeh samjhaya</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>…Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Duniya mein yunhi hota hai</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "> </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Yeh jo gehre sannate hain</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Waqt ne sabko hi baante hain</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Thoda ghum hai sabka qissa</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Thodi dhoop hai sabka hissa</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Aankh teri bekaar hi nam hai</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Har pal ek naya mausam hai</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Kyun tu aise pal khota hai</em></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; "><em>Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai</em></p></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-52524422735153735412011-01-09T23:16:00.000-08:002011-07-24T23:41:19.156-07:00Reverence Vindicated<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TSqzTXySSjI/AAAAAAAAAKw/D73AR_TJOD0/s1600/165331_188184394526946_188174177861301_721002_5517444_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TSqzTXySSjI/AAAAAAAAAKw/D73AR_TJOD0/s320/165331_188184394526946_188174177861301_721002_5517444_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560453835326114354" border="0" /></a><br /></div>I have revered Filmfare ever since I knew about it. Correction. I had revered Filmfare. Ever since I understood the word “Career” I wanted to be a film maker; and hence I loved this award. I didn’t understand why Amir Khan had such a problem with them. I didn’t care. I loved Filmfare. But what took away my love for it? Ever since they created the Best Debutant Director award, I eyed it with lust. THAT would be mine to begin with. But last year, I decided that even if I get THAT, I won’t accept it. Here I was waiting for the Best Debutant Director award to go to Ayan Mukherjee for Wake up Sid, which he did get in the end. But alas, now I knew why Amir Khan didn’t attend Filmfare. At least I guessed it. The award had been divided into male and female categories. Ayan Mukherjee got the Best Debutant Director Male, and the Best Debutant Director Female Award went to Zoya Akhtar. Her family tree was a cause to be addressed later. What on earth was this Male-Female division? I mean what was next? Best Editor Male, Best Editor Female? Best Cinematographer Male, Best Cinematographer Female? You see what I mean? It was the most humiliating thing I had ever experienced. And even if there was a Male-Female division in this category, who deserved it more? Zoya Akhtar for Luck By Chance, or Nandita Das for Firaaq? And will this Award/Humiliation continue till Filmfare continues? Or was it just for this particular year, for Zoya Akhtar had directed her first film? I mean will this award even get enough nominees? It would be like winning a race where only you ran? Quite an irony, when the same year Kathryn Bigelow became the first woman to win the Oscar for Best Director (James Cameron was also nominated). All in all, my respect for Filmfare was gone.<br /><br />But like I have always believed…things have a way of being heard. From this year on, I revere Tweeple Film Awards <span style="font-weight: bold;">@twi_fi_awards</span>. Awards of the tweeple, for the tweeple and by the tweeple. Thank the lord. Respect for the people who came up with it. We have hope. 26 most eminent critics of the country are already on the critics panel, and voting is on for the tweeple jury. But we need your support. We need some sense to prevail. We need the real art to be awarded and let the real artists prevail. We need to make ourselves heard, and we need to award the people who deserve it. Come and become a part of history.<br /><br />Follow the awards on twitter @twi_fi_awards and vote. Let your voice be heard.<br /><br />I am sorry if i look angry...if i seem so...it means i am. Film making IS my blood and i do not want a disease. But lets start in good faith and good fun. Cheers! Bring in the laurels!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-30878572978913912812010-09-05T01:39:00.000-07:002011-07-24T23:43:00.902-07:00The World is Calling<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TINp_q5zcpI/AAAAAAAAAJM/pN-KTCfpopw/s1600/010920101575.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TINp_q5zcpI/AAAAAAAAAJM/pN-KTCfpopw/s320/010920101575.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513366911401030290" border="0" /></a><br />31st August and 1st September became quite a discovery for me. A random Indian morning...a day full of accommodation and assimilation...no hopes what so ever in the system...bad roads, disregard of traffic rules, commonwealth screw up news, and many such things, which didn't quite make a difference any more.<br /><br />The big end of the day, however, came as quite a revelation.<br /><br />My Bua had been diagnosed with dengue and admitted in a hospital in the middle of the night and needed 4 B+ blood male donors between 19 to 50 years of age before 6am. The frantic search began. My parents went to the hospital to arrange. Meanwhile me and my sister (Bua's younger daughter) frantically called every one we could to come and donate. the hospital kept rejecting our donors on many counts and the clock kept ticking. i had, in between all this commotion, managed to tweet our urgent need and my number. honestly i didn't expect much out of it. what with it being the middle of the night and who would be kind enough to take the effort..that too on a twitter call.<br /><br />But when every thing failed..twitter came to rescue. <span style="font-weight: bold;">@ankitanks</span> came all over from Rohini to Patparganj to donate blood. and he was the most compassionate person i had ever come across..just my age..22..ambitious...independent..and compassionate. it was so unreal..i found it hard to believe. but by morning...when all our donors had been rejected, and we had lost all faith...my phone rang. it was an sms by <span style="font-weight: bold;">@itscreation</span>. he msgd me the number of a service which provided us donors of any blood group we wanted. and it worked. we found another donor through it.<br /><br />by sunrise. @ankitanks was here and he was fresh and bright. <span style="font-weight: bold;">you can see him in the picture above, filling out the donor form</span>. he sent his blood for testing by 7:45 and waited till 11:30 for the results. meanwhile my dad asked me about the status, and i said "the world is calling" ...all my tweeps were re tweeting my need, smsing me and calling me! <span style="font-weight: bold;">@sparklinguy @kyrasinging2</span> and @itscreation kept calling me and helping me find donors and they did not rest until i told them that alas @ankitanks 's blood was the only blood that got accepted.<br /><br />My buddy @waseembits who is also a doctor, n a twipal since real real long, called my sister and enquired about her health statistics and wished her well. He prays for her druing ramzaan.<br /><br />Wow. what a world. complaining, as we go about our day, we one day do realize, that the goodness isn't yet dead. people are compassionate and human. people we need but do not deserve...like a silent guardian. i for one am proud of my generation. my dad is now proud too. May be it was this positive vibe that my Bua started recovering that very day. as of now she is on 82k platelets count and hopefully will fully recover soon. i have no words to describe how moved i was that day. people tweeting and apologizing for not having B+ blood group..asking again and again how is she. i don't care how good a write up this post is...this story deserves to be told.<br /><br />i am scared to death by a needle...but come what may, i am a healthy person and i am now going to come out and donate. here is to the lost, derailed, fun loving, tweeting generation, it is also a giving generation. cheers to us. go out and donate. i am sure it will be a wonderful experience.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-29070807171139661962010-07-19T10:44:00.000-07:002011-07-24T23:42:30.684-07:00कहानी ख़तम है..या शुरुआत होने को है.. सुबह नयी है ये.. या फिर रात होने को है .. (This is NOT a film review)<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TESR70ujnEI/AAAAAAAAAIM/cOuXLRmx7-g/s1600/30266_123382667683420_116078745080479_210622_2974429_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TESR70ujnEI/AAAAAAAAAIM/cOuXLRmx7-g/s320/30266_123382667683420_116078745080479_210622_2974429_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495677902251072578" border="0" /></a><br />Some places become just more than places in your life…they become you. Udaan is one such film that takes you back to such places. It was almost a memory extracted right from my brain when I saw the first scene of kids sneaking out of their dormitory as soon as the warden disappears. I didn’t go to Bishop Cotton School like them…but I sure was a boarder of Bishop Westcott. It is one such place that becomes me. Well, I sure didn’t cross the wall to watch “Kaanti Shaah ke Angoor”…but I did know quite a few teachers who might have!<br /><br />It is a different feeling all together when you leave the hostel gates with a one way gate passes. Especially when you look behind at your friends, you partners in crime, and those walls around which you framed yourself. Udaan is a film that shows us what we did, what they did, and what they told us not to do. We and they; all did the same things none the less. It, oh so beautifully, splits open our own head and shows us what we are, what we were and what we yearn to be. Dazed and confused to the world, the teen heart, the teen mind, but also the most beautifully naïve and fresh, the teen mind, the teen heart. The bravest, not corrupted with the knowledge of dangerous and safe. Yes, the bravest indeed. Age is foolish and forgetful when it under estimates the youth (by J.K. Rowling).<br /><br />I am no one to judge how good or how bad the film was. But I sure know that no one can deny the raw reality behind this film. The reality being responsibility. The responsibility that the young are ever so frequently reminded of, but the responsibility rarely practiced by the imparters. What can a teacher teach me, who screws around behind his wife? How can a father make his son, a man; when he himself is spineless? I am just one of the lucky few, who have a perfect father. But it’s time that the ticker skin, disguising his tyranny and hypocrisy with age, power an experience realize, that rebellion is not just a fashion today…we are born with it. It’s the basic jungle rule. Self preservation. Survival. If the one who gives you his flesh and blood thinks he can own you, and disfigure you; you can any day be at the liberty of disowning him.<br /><br />Frankly I have no idea of what I am writing…but I have personally seen fathers screwing around with other women and expecting it to be the mother’s fault when his boy smokes. It’s the most blatant form of blasphemy. Either you fix him or fix yourself. Either let him bind you or take your own flight. But do not become him. Never blame your faults to be his. Once again I must say, I am blessed to have a father like mine…and feel sorry for those who have not got a father figure in their father. Go ahead. Set yourself free….take your flight of success. UDAAN.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-89637090580746326552010-06-17T11:53:00.000-07:002011-07-24T23:44:27.761-07:00With love – From the Virtual world<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TBpvePyGpAI/AAAAAAAAAG0/xLOmL3SMGes/s1600/twitter-bird.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TBpvePyGpAI/AAAAAAAAAG0/xLOmL3SMGes/s320/twitter-bird.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483818061700441090" border="0" /></a><br />There are certain things in our life that the senior generation cannot understand. They shouldn’t be blamed for it but they should accept it. Many of such things are the vibes we share with our friends. We experience a kind of friendship today that they never witnessed in their youth. Friendship for them is a waste of time, more often than not. They were the better kind you know…they studied more I agree. That mettle is no longer made.<br /><br />However, even though we do “waste” our time with friends, the virtual world has helped us keep in constant touch with those buggers we waste our time with! Friends from every phase of time, whose old landline numbers and addresses had long changed, came back together. I personally was thrilled to see all my friends from KG grow into such beautiful people!<br /><br />It became a gradual principle for me to add only the friends I personally know to my Facebook account…maintaining my privacy…although the list had more than 300 friends. (“I cant believe you have more than 200 friends you personally know!”) Then came in Twitter…now very aptly described as “for people you wish you went to school with”. It was a place to interact with people you never met! Where you would never get the “do you wanna fraansip wimmi” requests! Where shockingly only 140 characters did it! Where you could #ashtag things and make them worldwide TTs! Where just a #nowplaying could describe my mood. Where everybody is so beautifully honest.<br /><br />There I went…and there I met <span style="font-weight: bold;">@SI2iJaN @priyamigo @maletwittur</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">@VanDiablo</span>. We all were campaigning against #ShivSena and supporting @iamsrk . Spreading things like #getwellsoonshivsena got us to follow each other. We campaigned so much that #ShivSena joind twitter ans started following us! Keeping an eye on their enemy. So we wrote #BlockShivSena…and what’s cooler than twitter suspending their account for “suspicious activity” within 5 minutes of their joining! Damn we had become friends! We also played the most awesome virtual holi ever (========>pichhh...throws u in d mud and jumps over). I never thought I could ever call someone I had never met, a friend! But it just kept growing! I met <span style="font-weight: bold;">@hackernewbie @waseembits @nisnishu24 @gynelwazlib @arccleo @biorahul</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">@manav_dhiman @karan_jain</span> and so many other tweeps…people with amazing sense of honesty, integrity and pure fun.<br /><br />But after all its virtual! If I can “waste” my time with real friends…what’s twitter? Even though, I had reached 300 followers, was listed 20 time and was more than 6000 tweets old…one day I had to delete that dear account of mine. In fact it was 2 days ago that I did it. I couldn’t take being reminded what a total waste of my time it was, with every tweet I made. May be it was…maybe it was not. But it sure was therapeutic tweeting every morning my thoughts and reading your thoughts. It was a vent for me! It was a place full of honest young kids who had made for themselves a little world where just 140 characters were enough. I did not realise how important it was for me to be there until I deleted my account. I wanted to rejoin every minute! So I went back and searched for my friends…thinking “What’s the use…who would remember me! After all its just virtual!” But twitter always pleasantly surprises me. I saw my friends discussing that I am gone and missed. How could that be a waste of time! May be ill never understand. But it sure was the most valuable gift the virtual world has given me. Thank you my awesome tweeps! I miss you all too. I am following all your blogs! I just won’t be able to give you more #FF s. Much love! and my much loved *poof* ! :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6711461039301560039.post-57870246807197599452010-06-16T10:51:00.000-07:002013-01-14T09:12:37.150-08:00Water balloons in my resume<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TBkPgbFlAoI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Ovjr6V6pQUU/s1600/160620101373.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483431071001674370" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9AvyjM9W_bY/TBkPgbFlAoI/AAAAAAAAAGs/Ovjr6V6pQUU/s320/160620101373.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
As I sat in my dirty room, unpacking my transit luggage… I came across some provoking thoughts.<br />
Those dusty brown cartons brought me face to face with my long lost innocence. Beneath all the recent career driven documents, the 21 years of my life lay buried. My old journal that mom secretly read, more journals written in code language, SLAM books from different parts of my life, old school books and notes, photographs stuck between two RS Agarwals, old badges and medals, and my childhood.<br />
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They all revealed themselves to me in the most picture perfect manner, as if to remind me of the great friends I have had in my life, that made the journey worthwhile. A torn pocket of my Mothers’ International School shirt….reminded me of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Purva</span> (Purva Chawla) the first friend I ever made in my life. In a class full of strangers, (Class 1C), where everybody was being cold to me for maybe I was from Bihar and not from Delhi. Purva was the only one who not only was polite to me but also defended me. I can never thank her enough for that. She is still the angel she was in 1st standard.<br />
That torn pocket also reminded me of my friend <span style="font-weight: bold;">Pallavi Sinha</span>, who stood by me till I stayed in MIS. She was and still is as lovely and warm as ever. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nupur Raina</span>, my best buddy in 6th, also as much as angel, was another friend who let me be myself around her. I have had some wonderful times with you all and I wish I never left MIS…so that I could enjoy the ashram cake with you all throughout my school life, if not play in the jungle gym, then at least walk around it discussing our crushes. I miss you all.<br />
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That pocket was lying next to my album from Tripura, which contained the pictures of my 13th birthday party. A brief but amazing time of my life! Beneath it was my tie from Bishop Westcott Girls’ School. Oh I cannot even begin to explain how that school changed my life! I am what I am today because of that boarding school. I can never forget the dormitory…the washrooms…being locked in the washrooms…the beatings…and most of all the boarders. Life was life there. in between the pages of a note book I find a letter written to me by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Lipika</span>…my personal angel. She wrote that letter to me from her hostel…2 years after Westcott was over. She discussed her life and how it was in Westcott. I SMSed her right there. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ayasha, Ruchira, Shivangi, Shilpi</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bharti</span> and my best buddy <span style="font-weight: bold;">Jass”mine”</span>..all my Westcottians…you have no idea how much I love you. I had no idea either, until today.<br />
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One carton was done and I moved to the next one. The first notebook that touches my vision in a novel I wrote in 12th, which had all my friends in it. It was our story! I thought I had lost it! My DAV friends! <span style="font-weight: bold;">Krishna, Lucky, Apurva and Isha</span>! Oh gosh I miss the burger with you all at PP! remember our music video? I love you all and you must know that.<br />
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Oh and what’s this?! My Film making notes! the ink blue AAFT file! Oh that’s love at first sight! It not only gave my passion meaning…it also gave me <span style="font-weight: bold;">Deepu,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Minu, Aman, Atul, Kevin, Shaila and Monica. </span> Lights Camera Action Cut and the much awaited Pack up! the maggie and coke in the canteen and the productions! And the Fashion SHow and DJ night! i miss you all as much as i love film making!<br />
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I could not believe these cartons gave me you all! I thought I already had you guys! No! I didn’t! but now I do! But what more could these cartons give me? I kept unpacking. And I kept on giving me myself back! Yes! I found myself! Or rather what I used to be! Oh some old poetry! Some transforming signatures! Old coloring books! Some promises I made to myself…I could not believe I was that! Where has the innocence gone? In which carton did I lose myself? Why am I so shrewd? Why am I almost savage!? What happened to me?! Why the hell do I have these things preserved if I AM a savage?! Then I came across the transparent file of my resume. It had all my achievements till date that could sell me! However, some old empty water balloons had made their way into the file! Colorful and small balloons on my black and white achievements…reminding me of the days I spent with you all…the days that made me the person I am today…in contrast to the achievements that made me a savage!<br />
It’s hard to find a true friend today…I am blessed to have so many!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236566530635935810noreply@blogger.com22