Some Good Hindi, and Tamil Short Films

Recently while I was watching some cookery shows in Youtube, I happened to accidently  come  across, some really interesting Short stories filmed with some known as well as some unknown actors, with good directors, with the duration of each film being from 8 mins. to 15 to 30 mins.
Some were from well known authors too. I have become totally hooked to these short, very profound movies.
I really missed the old Hindi serials which were aired in DD years ago.  In those days they didn't have such crazy Saas Bahu  serials with every character being very wicked and scheming, with everybody wearing designer blouses and sarees with heavy costume jewellery etc.
The stories used to be very simple and with lot of food for thought, we would be led to ponder over the story in depth for a long time. Mostly they were stories written by famous Hindi novelists. The actors were dressed in a simple manner, and they also acted very well. Some short stories of Tolstoy and other Russian authors too were made into short films. They were so good, intellectually stimulating.
 Then came the invasion of our television,  with serials made by the likes of people like Ekta Kapoor, and others followed her style : they were called Soap Operas likes the ones that had people hooked to them all over America.  I too was a big fan of Bold and The Beautiful and Santa Barbara.The B&B  is still running and Santa Barbara ended years ago. They had stopped airing B&B, and though one can still watch it in the net,  it has become very boring, with the actors becoming quite old, and their children continuing in the same path.
My TV watching has been cut down to just some travel, cookery, and some repeats of comedy serials like, Friends, Seinfeld, and Frasier. Somehow I never get tired of watching these comedies, and now they have stopped Frasier, and Seinfeld, really sad.  

Coming back to the present, I was thrilled to see some sensible type of films that didn't all of your time: it was such a relief!
I am posting some links to two short film which  I am sure you all would really love watch: they are short Hindi movie, but you can watch also many Tamil, Malayalam, Bengali, Telugu movies too, most of them come with sub-titles in English. All of them are award winning short movies.

Here are the links for you:https://youtu.be/ZmVPCnxN-1A

https://youtu.be/N1R6Fyf5V6M

Everyday, I watch a few of them in all languages, and I am very happy to share them with all of you.

Message In A Bottle: a beautiful movie

I happened to see this movie once again when it was today on TV.
It is such a feel good movie, although the ending was really sad and very moving.
It  is a very simple story : A woman finds a bottle washed ashore with a message in it and it interests her so much, that she decides to find the man, and finds him too.
She goes to the place where he lives and finds out that he is ship builder who had lost his wife under very tragic circumstances. He loves his wife, who is no more so much that,he cannot think of moving on in his life. He is stuck with her memories.
When this lady from Chicago comes to meet him, there is mutual spark between them, and they both fall in love with each other. However, when taking a decision, he backs to because his love for his wife pulls him away.
The lady from Chicago goes away, for she could understand his feelings for his dead wife.
Few months later, he decides to tear himself from the past, and sails into the future with lots of hope and love. He sails in his new boat to windy Chicago to start a new life with his new love, but unfortunately, he dies saving somebody from drowning.
The actors Kevin Costner, Robin Wright, and Paul Newman, did their job brilliantly. What I like about these English movies is that there is no high pitched drama, one can feel each of the character's emotion fully.  One can feel it as if one is actually going through the pain, the love, the helplessness, the dilemma. It was really a very touching movie.
Most stories  written by Nicholas Sparks, have such sad endings, at least the ones I have seen.
The Notebook, Nights In Rodanthe,  and many others written by him are really heart wrenching

Sometimes it is so difficult to let go the past, some people do get over their past and move on to new happiness, but there are those for whom it  is simply not possible.
I have an aunt (actually she is my husband's aunt), who lost her husband after being married to him for 44 years. They had 3 children and were very happy together. My uncle had lots of health issues as he grew older, but still he asked her to lead her life the way she always did, and never bugged her to stay constantly looking after him. He told her that it is enough  for one person to be sick, it is necessary for both of them to be sick. He was a wonderful person.
One day he died, and our aunt felt totally alone with no one to share her thoughts  with. Two years passed by, when one day she met a man who was a retired Naval Commodore, and a widower. They met through common friends regarding some transactions. Slowly they started communicating with each  other more often, till one day he proposed and really shocked her.
He  also had two married daughters with children, and he was also lonely  without his wife, whom he had lost when he was very young. With some persuasion, my aunt finally said  yes to him, not without lot of hiccups from her children and some narrow minded relatives.
To make a long story short , she did marry him, and found love again in her life, and he too found happiness after many years of living alone.
Our aunt was a trend setter. She was 67 years old when she got married again, to a man of the same age.
They are happily married and it is going  to be almost 8 years now. The children also came around and everybody is happy, that two good people had found love again.
How many people can find true love twice in their lives : these people found it and surely, we all feel so happy for them.
And I am sure their respective spouses too feel happy watching the loves of their lives happy again.
In this new year (for many it is new year now in India), let us let go of the past, every aspect of it, and open our arms to new happiness and new life with new meaning.

Cravings for things that could not be had......

Few days back I was having some roasted cashew nuts, and my mind immediately travelled  back to the days when having such roasted nuts was unthinkable. I want to take you all with me down the memory lane.
I was very young, maybe around 5/6 years old
Those days we used to go to theaters to watch  some movies, once in a while. My sisters and my brother and myself, we used to be very happy and excited  with such  outings. Now during Interval, it was normal for most people to indulge  in buying some potato chips, ice cream, samosas, cool drinks like coke, fanta etc from the vendors who would come along with their wares tempting everybody.
At those times , it was natural for us too to expect  our parents to buy us  at least one  or two things. But alas, my parents could not afford to waste hard earned money on such junk food, and my mother would pinch me if I made a scene there. She would say, she would make chips at home and we can all have as much as we wanted.
However, the aroma of samosas, potato chips wafting from almost everywhere, used to be too unbearable, and suddenly I being the youngest in the family would feel very, very hungry. I would wish I was  born in a family where people can freely buy whatever they wanted without any restrictions. When I used to look at other kids enjoying their pop corns, colas and what not, I really used to envy them. The fun of watching a movie munching something constantly, somehow was never possible.
Then there would times like lunch time in school, where rich kids would have servants coming with their lunch, with napkins spread  out, their plates laid out and feeding them hot food, and these kids would be given cold homemade juice from the flask, and I would have to just eat by myself from the tiffin box some curd rice and drink ordinary water from the school tap in the hot weather. I used to wonder whether I would ever be able to have the life the other rich kids had.
 Then there was another time I remember, my mom had taken me shopping with some of her friends in Guwahati, I don't exactly remember the name of the Bazaar, it must have been Fancy Bazaar.
 We entered a shop selling ready made garments, my mom and her friends started looking at various dresses/ shirts, discussing between themselves, about the high rates that were mentioned on each  item.
I was alone looking, at the various colorful frocks attractively displayed inside the showcases, some pinned on the shop's wall, when a beautiful frock caught my attention. It had  brown and mustard print all over  it, and  it was a kind  of low hip kind of frock, that was in fashion those days.
I immediately, pulled my mom and showed her that frock and asked her to buy it for  me. My mom also liked the frock very much, and she asked the shopkeeper the price for the frock. When she heard the price she was shocked, for it was too much, she tried her best bargaining skills to get him to lower the price a little, but he would not budge, so my mom had  to leave the shop without buying that beautiful frock for me.
I was so sad, I can still remember,crying  uncontrollably all the way to our home, nothing my mom said could pacify me.
Now when I think back, I feel bad for the way I felt at that time. My parents gave us everything without any hesitation, but still being very young, I suppose I felt, that they didn't do enough or were not in a position to satisfy every wish of ours.
As I grew older, I could  fully understand, how difficult  it was for them and really appreciated them, for all they had done which was within their means.
Now, years later, I can buy as many potato wafers,  ice creams, as many bottles of Fanta, Coke and roasted cashew nuts etc.but  the experience  of  having them  inside a cinema hall has somehow been lost. Although, now too, we can do that, but somehow it does not feel the same.
I am sure many of you would be able to relate my random and very silly experiences

“I believe the world is incomprehensibly beautiful — an endless prospect of magic and wonder.” — Ansel Adams

It has been ages since I blogged. Various events kept me busy for sometime, and later, I became a bit lethargic, and at some point I even thought I would never start blogging at all.

However, today, I felt I could at least start by posting some pictures taken by me from our balcony: for I have to start somewhere isn't it?


As I saw the beautiful sunset from our balcony, I saw other interesting things to photograph too, like that lone crow sitting on top of our water tank deep in thought, the beautiful pink and white bougainvillea, bursting with joy,  the purple/ blue Jacaranda looking so beautiful, swaying in the mild evening breeze, the beautiful tall tree hiding the setting sun, the clouds slowly moving towards the sun waiting for it say goodnight to this part of the world, a single bird flying to back to its nest........

Nature at its best!!

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Time,Time..I have all the time --: Travelling Back In Time : A re- post

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'T' for: Travelling Back In Time

                                                                 Travelling Back In Time

During my younger days, I had the good fortune of travelling and living in most places in India, thanks to my father who was in the Army. 
My travelling days started with my father being posted from Mumbai to Lucknow,  I was barely a year old at that time. We lived in a place called Halwasiya Market, Hazrathganj. I remember, we had a roomy apartment in the  3rd floor. The rooms were built like compartments in a train, first was the kitchen, then a hall, and then two bedrooms, and last the bathroom. All the rooms opened to a long fairly large grilled veranda, and the view was the same on the other side too. We were a family of 6, my parents, my two elder sisters and one brother, I was the youngest. We also had lots pups and kittens roaming around the house for my father loved to bring stray pups and kittens. You can read about their adventures here:

http://rama-ananth.blogspot.com/2010/09/tragic-leaps.html

As grew up, I was put in a nearby convent school called   "The Cathedral". My school days very pretty boring, always dreading the arrival of my class teacher, Miss Williams, whom my mother and myself nick named as Miss Pulliams, (Pulli means Tiger in Tamil) for  she would pounce on us the minute, she saw us and start complaining to my poor mother how hopeless I was in my studies. 
My mother would come everyday around 12 pm with my lunch of Rasam mixed with rice and some vegetable curry. She would feed me, and I would make such a fuss saying everything was so hot with lots of chilies, and she used to somehow cajole me into finishing every bit saying it was not hot at all, as she had put lots ghee/ clarified butter, and that it was very tasty. if that didn't work she would say to eat fast as she could see Miss Pulliams coming our way.
I can never forget the aroma of my mother's rasam, it used to be really tasty, for I can still taste in my imagination, and  when at times I get the same taste coming from the rasam I make, I am absolutely thrilled.
Coming back to my story, after  lunch,  I would not want to go to the student's washroom, as it always had a nasty stink like all school washrooms. So we would quietly sneak into the staff wash room and finish washing quickly before we were caught.
After school again, my mother would come to take me home, and as soon as we entered our building, which  used to be full of shops on the ground floor, I would start pestering her to buy me a small Cadburys chocolate, before we started to climb the stairs leading to our flat. Everyday, the same scene repeated itself. 
In the evening my 2nd sister used to go to learn Bharatnatyam dance, and I also wanted to learn, so also went along with her. But after a few classes I refused to go, for I used to dance very badly and the dance teacher used to hit me with the stick every time I made a mistake. It was horrible.
During the evenings my father would take me out with him, for he wanted my mother to be free, while she cooked for the night  without my constant irritation. But I used to be afraid of my dad for he used to be quite strict. Somehow he would persuade me, saying he would buy me ice cream and take me to his friend's place where I can play with his kids.
He would  take me to the  nearby Mayfair theater, which used to have a very good ice cream parlor, and buy me a big plate of ice cream. Oh God, how I used to love eating  ice creams there, for on a big slab of  ice cream there would always be 2 artistically placed wafer biscuits, and I still  can't say whether I liked the wafer biscuits more or the ice cream more.
Then one day he took me to a photo studio, and the photographer was a Sardarji, (a Sikh) he was known to my father, and would often tell my father that I was so cute, (for I looked a lot like the famous child artist/ actor Daisy Irani), that he would like to take a photograph of me, So one day he took me to his studio dressed in a lovely orange color pant and a printed shirt, with a colorful umbrella, for it was supposed to be color photograph.

The good Sardarji  kept on asking me gently to smile, but I would not smile, for his tall, hefty figure with beard and moustache, and turban really frightened me, I could barely stand still leave alone smile. Anyway he somehow made me stand on a bench with my colorful umbrella and took the photograph which came out quite well, and for many years this framed picture of mine was there in our house, till one fine day it just vanished, never to be found. I somehow suspect, it was taken by my second sister, and it must be with her in Boston where  she lives. I just have a copy of it a: small black and white passport size picture.

I must tell about my school play, where you would be shocked that only role that was given to me was to sit like a shrub of  flowers. No Little Red Riding Wood dialogue for me, not even the bad wolf role, I was told to bring some flowered saree, which was wrapped round me , and I had to sit still and be a part of the jungle shrubs. So much for my acting talent, and my looking like the child star, Daisy Irani...

I must say, I had lots  and lots of the  yummy cold drink called "Milk Badam" (Cold Almond Milk), the taste of which still lingers in my tongue, however, I am yet to taste a drink, that can bring back the same magic. I also loved drinking ice cold Coca Colas and Fantas, from glass bottles. Somehow it doesn't taste the same these days. In fact, I stopped drinking  drink these long back.
Oh, the good old days will they ever come back?
Well this all I can remember of my stay in Lucknow.
From there we had to move  to Assam, can you imagine travelling all the way from Lucknow to  Guwahati, by train, it is a very, very, long journey, with so many states to pass through, and so many trains to change.... well some other time I would blog about it.

 Did you enjoy the travel back in time with me?

My Mother And Me: A Few Thoughts on Mother's day

After a long time, I feel drawn to write something about my mother. It is not that I think of her only  on this day, in fact I always keep thinking of her.
I thought I would share with you some random thoughts about my relationship with my mother.
I remember, when I was very young, I must have just joined school, and my mother used to take me to the school which was just next door, a convent school called "The Cathedral" in Lucknow. You might wonder, how I can remember things that happened while I was so young, I just don't know,  but I can remember all those things very clearly even at this age.
As I started school, I soon realized I was pretty dumb, and a very slow learner, I just couldn't understand anything that was taught in the class. I was weak in everything. every time, my mother came to pick me up, the class teacher would complain to her about my inability to stay focused in the class. It would really upset my mother very much, though she would try her best in the house to make me understand. Sometimes she would get so frustrated that when I missed some number while counting, she would poke the tip of the pencil on my fingers making me understand how to count correctly. My father was known to be more strict, so  seeking his help was out of question. My mother was always very patient, but somehow with a child who cannot understand the basics, she was bound to be  irritated. I have no complaints against her, it is just so funny when I think about it now, for her poking my fingers with the pencil point used to hurt me so much, that it would bring tears to my eyes, and  I would wish that I could be smart as the other kids of my class.
So, everyday since, the class teacher would have something or other to complain about me, my mother started to avoid getting caught by her. The class teacher's name was Miss Williams, and both of us changed her name into Pulliams (Pulli means tiger  in Tamil, and just for rhyming purpose we used to call her Pulliams).
My mother would bring lunch to the school, and we would play hide and seek with Miss Pulliams.
I was a real problem child, in other ways too, troubling my mother, making a big fuss about eating too. Poor thing she would bring tasty Rasam rice with a very tasty potato curry, but would have me making a fuss about it being very hot and spicy, she would cajole me into eating saying she has put lots ghee, and the potatoes were roasted very well and had no chilli powder  in them, and if everything else failed she would threaten me, saying she could see Miss Pulliams coming  our way, and that would be enough for me to swallow everything  in one go.
Then , there was the problem of using the School toilet meant for students which would always be stinking, and I would not like to go there at any cost. So my mother had to smuggle me somehow to the staff bathroom, without being caught by any of the staff. So much trouble my mother had to go through for such a worth less child.

Then came the tantrums while going back home. We used to live in a flat on the third floor, and I
would create a big drama saying that I cannot climb so many steps, unless she bought me a slab of Cadbury's chocolate (it used to be the thin slab) from the shop that was just next  to the staircase.
I don't think I would have done all these for my own children.

I used to get whooping cough a lot during that time, especially during the night, and my poor mother would be awake trying to comfort me all through the night, and on top of  it  I had the habit of sleeping with my fingers holding one of her ears tightly.

As we grew up, we always confided everything to our mother, for she would keep everything from our strict father. She did so many things for us without complaining, whereas, we were so engrossed with our own lives, we never thought of asking her what she wanted, or what we could do for her  to make her life a little more bearable.

Mothers stand for unconditional love, they don't remember the troubles they had gone through to make our lives comfortable, they are happy if we are happy.
Can we say for ourselves,whether we have been good mothers, I doubt so.
They did not have the facilities we have these days, yet they were so patient and tried to be the best mothers. Today, we have all the facilities, yet when it come to dealing with  our children  in a matured way, we find ourselves failing.
Today we tend to be more self centered, not that every mother is like that, but most of us tend to be like that only.
 I salute all the mothers who understand their children and do their very best to not only be good mothers but also be good friends with their children!!
Happy Mother's Day!