It
was my parents who told me about a Malayalam film that they had recently seen
and loved that took me to a whirlpool of emotions that made me feel heavy
inside. Being unable to comprehend what that feeling has been like for the last
few days, now I can only conceive of it as longing and loss. The first thing I
came to know about this film was that it was based on a real story. Naturally I
was inclined to know what the story is and who were the people in it. It is
when I began to know them that I started getting pulled into this whirlpool.
And that is what I feel every time I think of Kanchana Mala and Moideen. Perhaps
the sadness is caused by the fate that met these two lovers. Also, do people
love like that anymore? Their story really sounds like one out of a book.
Thankfully, the story is true. J
Krakow is full of Americans
They
are either tourists or have been drawn to the city permanently. Reason- Schindler’s
List. Americans think that they are well-loved here. As is evident from the
conversation happening at the table beside me in this café. Seems like they are
two Americans who just met a few hours ago. But Anya says that they hate the
Americans. Ever since Krakow was put on the map of world tourism, all thanks to
Spielberg’s heart-wrenching adaptation of the novel based on Oskar Schindler’s
life, Americans have been flooding this city. Some claim ancestry to the
exterminated or displaced Jews from here. Some are real stories. But many just
like to think they are related. There’s always some kind of a pull one feels to
relate to a tragedy. Like the few months last year I spent feeling extremely
low about what I seen and felt in Auschwitz-Birkenau and imagined that maybe
the cause of my sadness was that in my previous birth I died in that
concentration camp.
We the commode people
I
have said more than many times that Czech Republic has very few Indians. Seeing
an Indian face here is a novelty and such things happen mostly in Prague.
However yesterday I was walking to the bus stop near my university. I saw this
guy who looked very Indian. Not Spanish, Iranian, Afghani as we are sometimes
mistaken for. Upon seeing each other we started a conversation. Because Indians
are few here you see.
Me:
Hello
Him:
Hi, I am *********
Together:
Are you Indian?
Me:
Where in India are you from?
Him:
Kerala, and you?
Me:
hahaha… മലയാളീ ആണല്ലേ?
Did I
say that Indians are very few here? Probably. But did I forget to mention that
many many many of them are Malayalees? At this moment I fondly remember my
friend Richa Bhatia (no, she’s not dead) who said this to me years ago- “ You
Malayalees are like cockroaches. You can find them everywhere. Even in the
commode.”
Winter wardrobe
I
used to think that Czech women are crazy. In Autumn it gets as low as 1-4
degrees centigrade, you know! And they continue wearing their skirts, many of
which are really short to the great annoyance yet amusement of Hanna. But after
coming to Krakow I have realized that Polish women are crazier. Underneath
their skirts they do not even wear leggings. The very thought makes me feel
feverish with cold. Oh wait, maybe that is because I actually am falling ill.
All thanks to the….
Spa Weekend
Last weekend
was spa weekend with the girls. After the initial showdown between the punctual
German and the tardy Indian, things calmed down. The next day was very good
though. This wellness centre was everything I imagined a European sauna place
to be like. More about it in post that will come far far in the future. And the
German taught me how to swim. And I did swim. Halleluijah! Also, I suck at
bowling. Made a mental note to go bowling often in Pardubice. Need to get
better at it.
Ok Cupid, let’s Tinder
Kim
is a really nice guy. The kind that makes you feel at ease and can cheer you up
on the darkest day. I never thought he could fall head over heels in love with
someone. Neither could he. But it did happen. He found the one. On OKCupid!
“Good for you” I told him. He did not insist but he did tell me enough about
OKCupid to raise my curiosity. So I registered myself on it. It turned out to
be worse than what I had expected. At first it was nice talking to some of the
people on it but eventually I started getting the kind of messages that simply
made me dread even looking at the app icon on my screen. So that was my
two-week long stint with online-dating. Maybe I should just realise that I was
better off telling “Good for you Kim, good for you.” and ended it at that.
Sangeet scenario
I
mostly listen to old Hindi songs. There is something about their lyrics that
touches you. However, I am not fond of the melody of many of these songs (for example,
Chalo ek baar phirse, Tumhe dekha tumhe chaaha, Hum intezaar karenge, etc,.). I
listen to new songs out of necessity though. I find the melody of many way
better than those of the 50’s-70’s. However, the lyrics are so shallow and
pretentiously poetic that there can be quite some “what the copulation”
moments. For example, this-
It
does not even deserve a mention but I just did because I like the melody.
Especially the female part. It’s a strange kind of world that we live in now
where we cannot anymore write words that would bring the average melody to life
but instead string irreconcilable words together that put a damper on
even the most soulful melodies. Stranger is the fact that most youngsters these
days find these lyrics good. Strange, strange.
Harold Robbins
Never
love a Stranger is a book that one must simply not read. Harold Robbins is the
worst writer I have had the misfortune of reading. Also, his way of writing
about women is crude. I tried reading that book thrice when I was in my teens.
Failed everytime. One might as well invest some time in learning how to make
escargot. Whatever that takes. Even fly to France for a weekend. All the money
you end up paying to go to France and see the grotesque monument that is the
Eiffel Tower will not burn a bigger hole in your pocket than the hole that will
be drilled into your heart if you read Harold Robbins.
Nine
Had
to have nine snippets in this post. It is my favourite number, you see. But I
am all too happy to write about Harry Potter now. I am in the process of slowly
making my bedroom into a Harry Potter shrine. The work is progressing very
slowly because I am lazy and all I want to do at night after coming home is
sleep. Talking about sleep, I am really sleepy. And tired. Goodnight.
(Pssttt…..this
café people are trying to throw me out and I no longer have lights in my
sitting area.)
