Out came a thought and then another...

December 26, 2004:

The bed rocks. I groggily look at my watch and see it show 6:40am. It is a Sunday morning and I am not sure if I am awake or asleep. The bed rocks again. Oops, this feels like a tremor. I sit up and check if the items on my desk at the farther end of the room are moving. Nothing of the sort is evident. I stand up and try to see if the ground beneath my feet is shaking. It is rock solid and I feel very stupid. I go back to sleep telling myself that I am stupid.

The ringing phone wakes me up at 7:30am. It is a friend calling to check if I had felt the tremor that rocked Chennai about an hour ago. I wake up with excitement and mention that I actually felt the tremor well. I narrate the rocking bed story. We agree that it is surprising to feel the earth shaking in placid Chennai. I make myself a strong cuppa coffee and switch on the television to find out about the tremor. The incident gets a not-so-alarming mention in the news. I pick up the thick Sunday newspaper and settle down to a relaxed read.

It is 10:30am when I switch on the television again because my husband mentions that he saw a huge crowd at Luz and there was some talk about the waves hitting the higher regions of the shore. What appeared as a seemingly small act of nature transformed into a ghastly death knell for thousands of people...

----------

Aftershocks are what remain...

It is a terribly sad way to say goodbye to 2004. And no one has the heart to usher in 2005 with celebration. The wish of the moment is just HOPE. May 2005 bring with it hope of life for all those who stand completely shattered on the shores of despair.

At a time when everything around is sinking without a trace, I pray that hope floats. It has to in the Indian Ocean...

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 8:27 PM | Permalink | Comments

If you are the kind who tosses and turns in bed early in the morning, letting your mind wander beyond mundane materialistic routine to that ghost of a person in you who had so much of idealism for changing the world around, then you will definitely love Swades. It will make your stomach churn in guilt but it will also make you believe in long forgotten ideals.

I read a lot of reviews of Swades before I happened to see the movie this afternoon, and the reviews were all very mixed. Some harped on the length of the movie - a good three hours, others spoke about casual camera work and preachy dialogues, similarity to Lagaan, feel of a documentary and so on. While all of these review statements are true to an extent, they, in no way, dampen the essence of the movie or make it any less laudable.

Like a rare thundershower in sweltering Chennai, this movie shines as a solitary theme based expression in a medium packed with titillation offered in the garb of entertainment. Rich in idealism and endearing in its lack of cynicism, this is a movie that one must watch and decide if one likes it. Reviews can hardly tell you if you will like a movie. It can only offer pointers to elements in the movie that serve as highlights and the viewer has to decide for herself if a movie is worth a watch. Particularly, a movie like Swades must be seen with an open mindset. The subtle nuances of the film maker, the tiny little feelings that certain scenes evoke, the extremely natural acting of the entire cast are all aspects that will stay on long after the movie leaves the cinema halls.

I could tell you the story of Swades but then so can a search result on Google. So I will just say this. Swades is not entertainment, it is an experience. Go get it.

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 9:06 PM | Permalink | Comments

NY Times came out with a list of 100 notable books of the year 2004. I got the link thanks to Meg Hourihan's post. Out of that list, I had read 1/2 a book(thanks to Bill C's 912? pages making it next-to-impossible to read the entire thing in one go) and had contemplated reading another one (Hari Kunzru's 'Transmission').

Guess a lifetime is not really enough to read all the books in the world huh?

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 8:25 AM | Permalink | Comments

The new beginning for P.V. Narasimha Rao finally came this afternoon following a struggle with life at the hospital since early December.

Quiet, intelligent and a master of many different things, he has gone a long way in life.

As expected, a seven day National Mourning has been announced and Parliament has been adjourned sine die.

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 5:03 PM | Permalink | Comments

Language evolved soon after Man became bipedal say scientists.

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 1:40 PM | Permalink | Comments

In a marathon effort that banished my self-pity over viral sickness, I sprained my neck to finish The Last Song of Dusk in less than twenty four hours. This happened two weeks ago and the song has been resonating in my head all the while. The Last Song of Dusk invoked so many different reactions and emotions in me as I read it and later when I thought of it.

The writer, Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi, is an exceptionally talented storyteller. The book is unputdownable as the narrative spans across time, location and emotion. The quality of the writing is lyrical and there is as much magic in the writing as there is in the story. Set in the 1920s, the story explores facets of love through art forms, mainly music and painting. There is suspension of belief at several points in the story as the author holds your hand and takes you on a karma ride. There is a strong undercurrent of sexuality throughout the narrative as the author boldly explores the subject. However, when Nandini, one of the lead characters, displays a strong feline lust, I was pretty disgusted. As she prowls around at night looking for a panther, I couldn't help but wish that the author had been more subtle. But then, Siddharth is hardly writing with my sensibilities in mind!

The Last Song of Dusk is the story of Anuradha (the singer), Vardhaman (the doctor), Nandini (the artist), and Shloka (the child). It is a story of love, destiny, music and irony. It is also a story that will delight and disgust. Siddharth is impressive in his debut and whatever may be one's sensibilities, this book is worth a read.

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 1:34 PM | Permalink | Comments

bad cold, bloated head (hmm..this is perhaps an always thing!), dry throat - do they sound reason enough for the silence? I really did not want to get my yucky fingers on the keyboard :)

Be back soon.

Posted by Echo/Lavanya at 6:44 PM | Permalink | Comments