Caparnaüm, a review

Human emotions are like air and like air, they can be found  everywhere, even in a sewage pit. It takes a special kind of bravery and resolve to enter that pit, stoically breath in that stinking air and help drain the muck.

Labaki is that kind of a brave director and she showed that kind of a resolve in ‘Caparnaüm’.

The camera is unflinching, the screen play unrelenting. 123 minutes race by and when the movie ends the audience is left gasping for breath, struggling to process the incredible human drama they just witnessed.

A lot happens in those 123 minutes, abject poverty forces people to make hobsonian choices that have gut wrenching consequences. Much pain is inflicted by some on others and yet it is difficult to spot a villain. Even the worst of the oppressors seem driven by a genuine need to help.

And among all this is a 12 year old boy, serving a 5 year sentence for stabbing someone. He wants to sue his parents for giving birth to him and putting him through hell. This is his story and the stories around him. The story of his parents and their several children, the story of his favourite sister and his efforts to protect her, the story of an illegal immigrant hiding her son from the authorities as she struggles to find work and work permits, the stories of two endearing odd balls, a human trafficker and forgerer, a deadhead shopkeeper who truly thinks its okay to marry 11 year old girls and the story of a wise judge upon whom lies the responsibilty of making sense of it all and passing judgement.

As these stories swirl around, they weave a tapestry of breathtaking poignancy and pathos.

As in life, in the end there are no winners or losers, just people battered and bruised, looking for redemption, telling a version of truth that most suits them.

Glimpses : Jaisalmer Desert Festival 2019

I swear I didn't plan it but I landed slam bang in the middle of the Jaisalmer Desert Festival. Its a three day event and it began the day I arrived and gets over the day I leave. What are the odds of that !!

They have some really weird competitions. I just witnessed a competition to decide the best lips, for camels. and camels being camels, the winner sprayed spit all over the poor bureaucrat whose job it was to put a medal on him.

The festival is government sponsored so the top guests were the BSF chief, the Police Commissioner and the District Collector. The commissioner and the collector were both women, looking really smart and totally aware and at ease with the power they wield. Three cheers to the women power.

Earlier there was a tug-of-war between the local women and the visiting ladies. The visitors beat the locals way too easily. And the announcer really rubbed it in by telling everybody that this had happened ten years in a row. I put it all down to the sand. Used to walking lightly on hot shifting sands all their lives, the local women just don't know what it takes to firmly plant their feet and tug hard. That's my guess.

The event of the day was surely the camel polo match between two local teams. The announcer went all over the place telling how unique the event was and that the only place in the world you got to see it was right here in Jaisalmer. So ofcourse I waited as it got hotter and dustier and dryer. Then it began. Camels have a unique tread. They have these long necks and their heads are always looking slightly upwards. And then their walk is a bit of a hop and skip. So if you a camel move you are reminded of a haughty and bored dancer. Anyways, you had these twelve camels on the field, men astride with these ridiculously long mallets, and a soft football after which everybody jostled. All the hype apart it was quite a funny sight. And all these camels with their upturned noses and the skippty walk clearly looked as if they didn't want anything to do with this silly game.

The next biggest thing on the showcard was the BSF Tattoo. The BSF have the most resplendent camels. The camels are paired with their riders for life and the two clearly build a deep bond. I met this soldier and we began talking about  his camel and the words he used would make any son blush with pride and joy. So when I saw these riders using a long leather thong to thwack the camels to get them to move I was taken aback a bit. They thwacked really really hard. So I asked my soldier friend and he laughed. It seems the camel hide it so thick that all that thwacking was just like a gentle pat for the camel.

The Grass is Greener on the Other Side

A pleasant smiling server delights the patrons of a cafe overlooking the Pushkar lake. Dawa Dorje was on a backpacking trip, touring Rajasthan. He was loving it so much that eventually he ran out of money and took this job waiting tables. He says he hopes to return to his beloved Sikkim, just as soon as he saves up enough.

As we chatted about this and that, about here and there, he left me with a pure gold thought nugget. His cafe patrons often wax eloquent about the peace and quiet of the surroundings and how they find it so relaxing and wonderful. And how they wished they could stay here forever.

And Dawa Dorje often wondered; this place is quite like his home in Pelling. There too its very quiet and peaceful. Infact by sun down, just like here, all the stuff is done and everybody goes off to sleep. The place is dead by the time night falls. And how Dorje dreamt of the big cities where its so alive and buzzing all night long and how he finds that so relaxing and wonderful.

Essence of getting somewhere

I wanted to catch the sunset from a hilltop that I could see from my homestay. I asked the host and he said it will take upwards of an hour to get there. So I planned to leave early. Well in time. As I about to step out, the host looked at the sky and pointed out all the clouds and advised me to drop the plan. It would be pointless as the sun would be behind the clouds when it sets, he said.

I had absolutely nothing else to do so I smiled at him and shrugged my shoulders. A walk is a walk, right?

After about an hour or so I was at the top, found a nice spot and sat down. All the while I was walking the clouds that thinned quite a bit and the sun was now playing hide and seek. However I could clearly see a thick band of clouds just above the horizon so a sunset wasn't to be I thought. But as I sat there the sun shone brilliantly and then slowly sank into that thick bank. It wasn't the best sunset ever but it still took my breath away. And I was reminded of Rajinder, my trusted sherpa sirdar. To start a task with the focus on the end is not always the best way to start the task, he used to say.

Harmony in numbers

Harmony and cacophony are about as far from each other as two things can be. As opposite as two things can be. Or that is what I thought.

I was passing by a stone carving workshop and a lone carver sat chipping at his stone making harsh sharp sounds. Something made me stop and see him work. Soon another carver came and took his place at the workbench and he added his cacophony. It must have been some sort of a break because within minutes four other carvers got to work and now you had six of them all doing their own thing. Some hammering away, others doing more delicate work with softer strokes. And as I stood there listening to the evolving cacophony I was stunned. What now emerged from the workshop wasn't cacophony anymore. It sounded rhythmic and I dare say, melodious. Each individual carver was still harsh, but as a group they weren't.

Sometimes the only difference in being seen as an odd one out and the one that is in sync with others is the numbers. An idiot would stick out among the sane just as much as a sane would among idiots.

If this were true, then the big question really is, can we ever be sure calling someone an idiot. What if she is the only sane among all us idiots.

Quiet Reverence

Brahma temple in Pushkar is the best temple in the world. Rituals / havans / poojas are all forbidden. So no pujaris, no coercion, no do this and do that. None of the things that put me off all the other temples. One goes in, feels the divinity, bows one's head in reverence, holds that moment as long as one wants and then walks out. I wish all temples were like this. Wouldn't that be wonderful. 

Diya taale andhera

Whenever I reach a place of deep faith where many like me would have similarly congregated, I am often warned. That I should be careful with my wallet and my phone. That I should keep them safe. That if I am not careful then for sure I will be purloined. And I have always wondered; how come the closer I get to 'god' the more godless people I have to be careful off. What faith do these fellows follow that they dare defy so close to the fountainheads of divinity.

The art of getting bashed in sand

coudnt resist the dunes, had to go sand bashing... so i called up an experienced friend and he gave me a few tips and ended with an advise, dont go out alone. 

"but hello, i am on a solo roadtrip, does having god with me count?" 

"that may count but wont matter much". hillarious, he is.

anyways, as advised i spoke with my host.

 

"thare paas mharo number seh na, ja rab rakkha".

wow, assurance and god, both in one simple sentence, nice.

so off i went. tentatively at first, but as i felt the car slip and slide something inside told me to take it a notch up. immediately i felt better traction and i was up and away, one dune, then another, then one more and then back to the first dune. 

it was at this point that i felt a bit vain and wanted to show off. so i stopped and set up the camera on video mode. lights, camera, action.  

i restarted the car. ooooops. wheels were spinning but i wasnt moving. uh oh. i raced a bit more, nada. i got off to look and the front tyres were half deep in sand. oh boy. i promptly got down to my knees and cleared the sand as much as i could, make a path of sorts. now the car will simply slide out. 

well, it didnt, just dug in even deeper. this looks bad i thought. then i remembered something. when we went sand bashing in dubai they took the air off the tyres, it gives better traction they said... ah there you are, thats the trick i missed. nevermind. so i got down to my knees all over again and the let air off the tyres. feeling good i got in, put the car in gear and guess what?... it moved !!!!

just a bit though and then sat down.... thats when it finally dawned on me. this car aint moving anywhere on its own. my enthu, my ego and my front tyres, all three were in the same state. deflated.

to cut a long story short i made that call, my host eventually trundled over in his tractor and towed me to safetly in less time than it took me to set up that damned phone on video mode. 

Lessons in confidence building

the narrow lanes leading to the dargah e sharif are dotted with these tiny hole-in-the-wall eateries. serving simple fare, these eateries do brisk business feeding the returning pilgrims. 

one such family run eatery had a little fellow, about six years old, who was tasked with baking the rotis on a hot tava while his mother rolled them out for him. the task was simple enough, bake one side, turn the roti over, bake the other side and off it goes to the plate of a hungry pilgrim. 

maybe it was sheer boredom or may be the lad was mischievous, but the fellow instead of just turning the rotis over was instead flipping them high trying to get them to turn in the air and land on the tava. mostly the rotis landed in a heap which he hastily straightened out. and every time it landed in a heap he giggled and looked sheepish while his mom rolled her eyes and asked him sternly, but clearly indulging, to stop the nonsense. i sat in the corner watching all this when just like that a roti nailed its landing. perfectly flat and the right side down. his eyes lit up, his mom's eyes lit up and i hastily put up my hand asking to be served that roti. there was a moment of quiet joy. and then it was back to rolling, and flipping and heaping, and giggling and the invariable gentle admonishing.

we as parents, and elsewhere, as leaders, often struggle to create an environment where mistakes aren't treated as mishaps but as opportunities to learn and be perfect.

i dont know where this little lad will end up when he eventually grows up but as a tiny tot he has already experienced an environment we so struggle to create.

Lest we forget

last night as i was driving from the kumbhalgarh fort towards my homestay i passed through a little town called kelwara, and as i passed by the main bazzar i sensed a little commotion. it looked like a bunch of excited youngsters putting up some sort of a billboard..

i paused, wondering, and as i rolled down the windows i heard desh bhakti songs. i got off and took a closer look. yup, just as i thought, the boys were putting up some sort of a memorial for the pulwama jawans.

the feelings were clearly running high and a few 'bharat mata ki jai' rang in the air. then somebody began to sing the national anthem. as i joined in, my tears began to flow. throughly embarassed i tried to stem the flow. it wouldn't. fuck it, i said, let them flow. and i wept like a baby.

i really wish those tears were tears of grief, pain or anguish, instead they were hot tears of rage, helplessness. i cried for us all, for finding ourselves in such a bind. given our military might avenging these lives would be so easy. and yet i know, the easy sometimes sits on a very slippery slope.

i know not how these lives will be avenged, but certainly they werent lost in vain. as i stood with this tiny group of people in a tiny tiny part of the nation i felt a tide of emotion which seemed to be sweeping everywhere... thats takes some doing...

Being energetic

i have often been asked, what keeps me energised. whats the secret of my enthusiasm. i pondered long and deep. and it comes down to a beautiful word in urdu. 

हैरानियत (hairaniyat)

the state of being in wonderment. 

its multilayered, this word. 

at the very least being in wonderment fills me with appreciation and gratitude. i like the way it feels. so i keep searching for things that keep me in wonderment. and the more i look, the more i find.

then again, i know life is, and will always be, a pendulum swinging back and forth, between the good and the bad and the ugly. being in wonderment helps dealing with the bad and the ugly. it keeps me upbeat just long enough for the pendulum to eventually swing in a rosier direction. 

isnt that a bit delusional? 

am i overlooking, even belittling, things that may grow behind my back and eventually sock me in the face when i am least expecting?

interestingly the word in urdu for the bad and the ugly is हैवानियत (haiwaniyat). and i can see why one should be wary of this darkness. haiwaniyat sounds very powerful, very sinister, very persistent. and i can also see why it may seem delusional to look away from something so bad. 

so i pondered more, dug deeper. and the beauty of it all revealed itself. hairaniyat doesn't force you to look away, it helps find something good in the darkest of things. and once that good is found it begins to eat the darkness away, from inside. slowly, steadily. 

ofcourse, the darkness will sock me in the face, knock me down, drive me into rage and despair but i know it's losing and i know it cant keep me down forever. i know i eventually will be back on top. 

and that fills me with energy.

and that is my secret

Roma, The Immersive Opus

way back in the seventies the big daddies, satyajit ray, mrinal sen, ritwick ghatak et al, decided to be voyuers. and out flowed a flood of movies which the confounded critics termed as immersive experiences.

nothing much happened in these movies other than a camera following people around, sometimes in excruciating cringe worthy details. who can forget the eight minute long shot of a starving man eating and eventually choking on a bowl of rice, or two kids fascinated, minutes on end, by 'singing' telegraph wires.

interestingly these movies invariably end abruptly. almost as if even the director had enough and just sprang from his seat shouting 'its a wrap'  or maybe he just realised he was running out of budget

whenever i saw these movies i did three things, at some point i wondered where was all this headed, at some other point i would sneakily lookup the timeline to see how much is still left, and at the end, when it abruptly ended, i wud swear 'wtf' under the breath

however these movies had their moments and there were times when the details would jolt one into realising that one is not paying enough attention to the smaller more important things in life.

so will roma. it is as immersive as movies can get and it will take you on a ride in such minute details that you will wonder whether you bought a movie ticket or did you instead hop on a flight to mexico.

and i am equally sure that you will feel that sense of deja vu, the sense that though you are watching people out there in mexico, things aren't so different after all. that all of us live similar lives. do similar things. at one point in the movie a maid goes about wrapping up the house at night, and the camera follows her as she goes room to room switching off the lights, and then in the end when all the lights are off she walks over to a corner lamp and switches it on. i smiled. thats exactly what i do too.

it has its cringe worthy moments, for sure. i dare you not to flinch at two scenes, once in a bedroom and once in a hospital. and yes, i did wonder at one point where was this headed and yes, when it ended i did swear under my breath.

did i love it? well, lets just say i wasn't anywhere close to hating it.

Cafe Musings

i recently spent some time with a very wise lama, and he told me that if you want to build something beautiful then begin with the courage that in the process of making it you may break it / destroy it

overcome that fear, then maybe, just maybe, you may get lucky.

this overcoming fear thingie applies at various levels...but at the root of it lies the message that fear is not your friend...in everything

being careful and being fearful is not the same thing.... not by far...

 if you feel hesitation, then see if there is any fear lurking behind that hesitation... 

incidentally fear has an interesting way of claiming power you, it puts on the 'past experiences' hat and pretty much locks you down...

look it in the eye and say 'haan, toh???'

A rabbit and the Art of brewing a coffee

i daresay i understand a bit about coffee. after all its been over 5 years since i began tinkering with expresso. so when i drove into coorg last week for further exploring coffee i felt as if i would be on familiar grounds.

nada. 

i was somewhat certain in my knowledge that extracting a great brew was all about the 15 bar pressure, the right grind, freshest bean, the roast date, good water, a clean machine and all that... i loved the inherent complexity, it felt as if i had a special skill, to get it all exactly right.

it seems all i really need is a simple filter cup, some hot water and ground beans. 

and time. 

in this last essential ingredient lies not just the secret of a good cuppa, but also the entire approach to life itself.

back home i would take a mere 4 to 5 minutes from switching on my machine to pouring out an expresso. out here the filter coffee takes nearly an hour as it slowly drips drop by drop. 

so whats actually happening...

way back when i was a wee little lad, i had a pet rabbit. frisky little fellow. but he had a rather bad habit. he liked to run and hide. when i  got back from school and he would go run and hide it was all fun and games, and i loved it. but at nightfall when i had to go fetch him indoors, for his own safety, mind you, and he went and hid behind this pile of tiles, it wasnt fun and games anymore. 

i would crouch and cajole and entreat, but the bugger squeezed himself deeper, always just a little beyond my reach. and i wud get really upset. it wud end up with me somehow reaching in and yanking hard at his ears, often bruising my wrists on those sharp tiles. 

then came diwali and with it came phatakas and kids being kids i found a solution to my nightly troubles. if it was taking too long i simply lit a cracker behind the tiles and the poor rabbit shot out from his hole, shit scared and half out of his wits. job well done, time to go home.

now lets think of the tiles as a coffee bean, and my rabbit as the delectable brew. and the point of it all was to extract the rabbit out of the tiles. 

the 15 bar pressure expresso machine is the equivalent of a lit cracker. light it up, hear the angry hiss and voila, the brew is pouring out. almost instantly.

the filter cup is the equivalent of me waiting patiently till the rabbit in his own good time wants to go indoors.

the question i am asking, is my expresso back home just as shit scared and half out of its wits??? 

Moon musings

i feel that the reason moon ranks so high among the things romantics cherish is that its glory, its mystique, its beauty, all, all of it is based on a reflected glory... the light that lights it up is not its own, not something thats within. it is entirely from someone else...

i am just a rock, floating around, barren and dark... you come around and fill me with light, with beauty, with purpose... and now the world finds me beautiful....

thats the very core of being in love ..