Lessons from IGI

Humming along the radio, come to think of it, I can’t remember exactly what song it was. One of those on 95 FM that play all the time I guess. We pulled over right next to the trolleys. And I took in a lot more breath than I needed. I was overwhelmed!

It seemed all of Delhi’s population was here. At the Indira Gandhi International Airport for their own righteous reasons I guess. Indians have this tendency to be over-hospitable. They also have tendencies to offer love to everybody. I mean everybody. So you’ll notice that at the Airport you’ll find not only the traveler, but also his/her large extended family. Anyway coming back to my story, we offloaded all the luggage and I went searching for a trolley to load the entire luggage onto. I started running after the Trolley Man and ended up running in a circle only to find my brother standing at the end of it with a trolley right next to him. Yeah just great, I thought, if you wanted to get the trolley yourself why was I sent to stretch my muscles? Right so we stood next to the entry then – My mom, my dad, my sister and I. Just then I realized the beauty of the airport. The colossal number of people and the kinds of them! There was the student like my sister going abroad for higher education, there were the other clueless ones looking for a familiar face, the really smart ones in their Berkeley and Harvard sweatshirts, the working professionals with their “oh-so-bored” expressions like they’ve done this every day of their lives, the first time travelers with their nervous expressions like a dragon is going to jump at them from behind one of the suitcases and eat them. Then there were people like the rich, loaded young ones going to splurge all of Daddy’s hard-earned money, with their entire branded outfit and “spoilt” written all over them, the mismatched inter-racial couples, the workers, the businessmen, the foreigners wondering how the hell they got trapped in this damn “third-world” country. And then there were people like me, coming to leave their loved ones. Looking at my watch, I realized it was time to say our goodbyes; she had to go if she wanted to catch her plane on time. So I pulled my sister, my sibling, my best friend, my mom-in-disguise, my adviser, my love, the one in my life who mattered to me the most, in a bone crushing hug that seemed to last an eternity. It was one of the defining moments of my life. Words weren’t required; they would’ve ruined that moment, all that we needed to say, we said through the warmth and love that flowed through our bodies in that embrace. I couldn’t possibly describe what I was feeling that time, a mix of sadness, helplessness, happiness for her, anger, depression, and a load of other emotions that I didn’t even know existed. And she walked, walked away from me, and I knew once she’s gone through the door, that was it. Next time we would be seeing each other would be 4 months from now. And just before going through that door she turned around and gave me that smile of hers that lifted my spirits completely.

We slowly walked back to the parking where our car was stationed. We climbed in and waited for her call to say she’d boarded the flight. So we turned on the radio in the meanwhile and then came one of the most beautiful instants of my life. In the beautiful, deep silence of the parking lot, Palash Sen sang. Sang for all his sorrow, he sang of lost love, he sang of his love leaving his life, of good days, bad days, of life with her and without, and how he missed her. The sole voice of Euphoria’s lead singer rang through the car and throughout the innermost depths of our hearts. His lyrics touched the cords of the symphony of our hearts and spoke of exactly how we were feeling but couldn’t say. That’s were I found the strength I was going to need in the next 4 months of my life, to keep going on, to keep fighting and surviving, to keep conquering and loving. In the deep and melodious rhythm of “Maeeri-Euphoria” I found what my soul was truly looking for, I found bliss, salvation and the true meaning of everything around me. I seeked the truth of life, and found it not in religion, not in devotion, not in the Himalayas, not with the Gurus but in the simple power of a song.

Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Review!

It's a bitter satire based on the metamorphosis of a rationally stable individual to a manic, heinous cannibalistic killer. Johnny Depp has once again proved his brilliance and mettle as an actor. It revolves around Benjamin Barker (Johnny Depp) who is sent on exile as a result of the lust of the evil Aristocracy, for a crime he didn't commit. Years later, he returns illegally under an alias as Sweeney Todd and sets out to find his family. But he learns that his wife is long dead & his daughter, the ward of the evil Judge Turpin. So, he sets out to take revenge and reunite with his daughter. This is art cinema at its best. A musical, it explores the mystique of the dark side of our conscience. If you can bear the cooking & serving of human beings as Meat Pies, murder for revenge & intense emotion, this movie may be right for you as not everybody can appreciate such a gruesome theme. What is actually moving about this movie is the constant conflict between the quest for vengeance and rationality. The beauty lies in the way the Director has handled such a disturbing story. The movie explores the reasons that made him a killer and points to the society being responsible for provoking him to become such a monstrous & barbaric murderer. It leaves you with some serious food for thought; to what extent would YOU go to seek revenge for harm done to someone you love?

Spare me the despotic mall monster!

Ahh. Another new day at school. Another long day of studies and teachers droning about the importance of class 12 boards. Yes, I, a class 12 student have umpteen number things to do rather than sit and write this article. But no.

Its all related you see. On my way to school every morning I used to see a vast expanse of about 20 acres or more of lush greenery. Green and large. What a pleasing sight to the city eyes that are accustomed to dirty grey.  Well, what I see now is an uber-luxury mall, totally high end. Yes, I do see the Louis Vuitton displays and sigh. Yes I would love one too. And then I see a Dior showroom. A mall custom made only for the super rich and fabulously wealthy. But what is wrong with that you may ask. Such a large expanse of land, right in the middle of the city, bang in the middle of posh south Delhi, WASTED on yet another mall. I ask, where will this frenzy for an overestimated and exaggerated shopaholic generation end? 10 years from now this mall would be crumbling under lack of maintenance. Pure misuse of space. When I was younger I dreamt of buying the land and building sky-scraping rollercoasters. But that was not to be, land was sold to DLF, my dream was shattered but I acquired a new one. The Delhi Govt. needs its vision checked. Definitely not a 6 on 6. This large piece of beautiful land bang opposite JNU should have been employed for building important units such as more educational facilities. Since rollercoaster’s are out of the picture, a fully equipped, Wi-Fi enabled, super modern college would have been perfect. Kind of like a new and integrated South Campus for the deteriorating Delhi University. If not a college, how about improving the current useless sports stadiums that flank the Capital. I have been to a stadium in North Delhi, which is the centre of all national level sport activity. It houses the dirtiest and smelliest bathrooms with shit splashed on the walls. Not only is cleanliness lacking here, but also everything is defying gravity. Wow. So much for Delhi 2010!

Why would you employ such a large expanse of land for a lost purpose? Its beyond me. I am a commerce student but don’t try and explain the economic well-being by way of consumerism and demand to me. If you’re fashion obsessed, don’t try to tell me that the only proper outlets for all these unaffordable brands are nowhere else. Seriously, no thanks, Mr. Jimmy Choo not your outlet or a Gucci. That’s not we need. We need better social infrastructure which a trendy patent leather with LV splashed all over, will not provide. 

Music Is My Savior

Usually, whenever I heard Jal (Pakistani Band) perform, or even when I went for a Them Clones’ silly park concert I felt it.  It was like a feeling that would be so difficult to describe. It was just there. It gave me a high. Just like to a crack addict. It felt like the highest state of being; it felt like liberation for my cramped soul. The musical notes broke the tight shackles that surrounded my existence. In that moment nothing mattered except the here and now. It felt as though as though the pressure of time was colliding with the happiness bursting through me. I could feel my soul seeking atonement and emancipation through my voice, loudest that I could make it, but insignificant in the crowd. It gave me a newfound confidence that made me feel as though I could take on the world. All my sins and my sorrows seemed to dissolve in the guitar riffs. It was nirvana in the true sense of the word. It made everything else seem inconsequential and unimportant. Music was the true savior of the disturbed; music was the real God. I couldn’t play a note to save my life, but I can say with conviction that I am the most religious devotee. I always wondered to myself why normal religious practices and spiritual talks didn’t inspire me. Why my feeling for such things would always be nonexistent and useless. It was then that I realized I was taken by the different kind of God: the kind that presented itself through musical instruments, through the voices of the musicians. It was the kind that asked for nothing in return. It was logical. It didn’t believe in superstition, it didn’t ask for numerous hours in a church or temple. The temple that it required was within us. It was in the ears, mind and heart of those who could actually sense the music. It was an experience higher in awakening than any other instance. Nothing could be same anymore because it converted all its devotees to fundamentalists looking for a different kind of “jihad”. We were the followers who just seeked fulfillment through sounds on the radio, TV or iPods. We were stanch converts looking for a meaning and searching for a kind of solace only music could provide. I wish it would’ve lasted forever. However, all good things come to an end, and so did the concert.

But recently when I went for another concert of a band I particularly loved, I didn’t feel it anymore. I searched and searched for that “feeling” that usually presented itself, unasked for, in my heart. But that day was inauspicious. It didn’t arrive. Not even when I begged. I felt stripped and cheated. Stripped of the beautiful experience I knew belonged only to me, and cheated because it was taken away from me. I can’t begin to describe the sense of loss I felt. I was scared because it didn’t come. The concert was over and my devotion didn’t reap its rewards. I was shocked, hurt and betrayed.  Such was the power of anything that you loved and felt so strongly, that it had the authority to hurt and betray you without reason and still come back later and be taken in. I wonder why I was being taken away from the one thing I could still feel and experience, why my identity was being played with. My sense of wonder, joy and fulfillment that was reserved for the greatest of all Gods was on a journey to far away, with no return flight ticket. It was all I could do to weep, and wallow for the loss of a friend that kept you going in times of happiness and sorrow, in times of thunder and rain, in moments of accomplishment and epiphany, in situations of loneliness and loss. It was all mine, and it was gone.