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Summer, stripes and Joplin

After half a year of heavy jackets and coats, the whole idea of being able to walk out of your house in a linen shirt is a little weird. It’s wonderful, but at the same time, every time I get into the lift, I get this crazy feeling that I’ve forgotten something. I also feel absurdly under-dressed.

But summer is wonderful. SZ (a classmate) commented that I looked happy these days. I didn’t realize my face gave away that much. But yes, the sheer joy of squinting one’s eyes against the sun makes me happy. Summer tends to make me pensive and happy all at the same time. On that note, this is a photograph of a woman that I saw along the Southbank. Summer brings out all these stripey, dotty clothes. Like I said, to see all these people, devoid of their winter clothes almost gives you the impression that the city is walking half-naked. It’ll take sometime to get used to it, and by then the bloody weather may get cold again.

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The heat in the afternoons in London isn’t enough to lull it into silence. Quite unlike the summer afternoons that I am more familiar with, when all is quiet, all is heavy and all is hot. No, the afternoons here are quite lively. But if you’re like me, sitting and studying for exams, you don’t notice the liveliness. Which in its own wonderful way, (sometimes) takes care of homesickness. And for some reason that brings to mind the wonderful Janis Joplin singing Summertime. I have no idea how, but the first twenty seconds of the song drown me in everything summer. I discovered this song, aptly and obviously enough in some teen summer.

Summertime is a fantastic song with a curious history of arrangements and genres. Originally composed by George Gershwin in 1935 for an opera, it found its way into even more jazzy circuits. The original by Gershwin sounds somewhat like this. And this fabulous 1968 video of Ella Fitzgerald singing the same number is absolutely wonderful.

The mind is rather drawn to Joplin today. I’ll just give in.

Posted on May 9th, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: London, Music, Film and Art, Photographs, Self | 4 Comments »

Look Ma, we went skydiving!

Yesterday we went skydiving. To be fair it was a tandem skydive. Which means you can let go and someone else is in charge. But it doesn’t change the sheer thrill of jumping out of a tiny plane from a height of 12000 feet. We wanted to go solo skydiving, but the sheer commitment involved in signing up for the entire accelerated freefall course is a bit much, and I think we need to tandem skydive a few more times before we can make up our minds about it. But now let me take you through the day.

The first thing with skydiving is that you need to wait. Especially in a country like England, where the skies like to crap all over your style. But the sun finally made its appearance near brunch time, and we were kitted, fitted and harnessed. We rushed into the a small aircraft. We didn’t get any photographs of us while we were up in the sky, but that’s on the cards for “next time”. Pretty soon, the aircraft had become a tiny speck in the sky. To appreciate just how tiny, take a close look at the photograph below. If you look real hard, you might see a small white speck where I’ve indicated it. That’s how high up we were.

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Even as you are harnessed to the instructor, you can’t see his face in the time that you’re doing the freefall. It’s impossible to remember the exact the feeling once it’s over, leave along recreate it. You jump! And freefall. You dont feel cold. You don’t really feel anything but a loud WHOOOOOOSH! through every damn cell in your body. Since we had the stomach for it, our instructors decided to do a few spins. The freefall lasted for about 30 seconds in which we fell through some 6000 feet. The parachute was deployed. At this point, I felt a tug. It’s sharp. Remember, the speed at which we’re falling is about 120 mph. But once the parachute opens up, it’s like floating. Yet, it’s not slow. You’re swooping into the air. My guess is that Sri had far more presence of mind that I did. I almost froze for the first few seconds. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

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The parachute is incredible responsive. Sri and I both were lucky enough to get instructors that allowed us to steer the parachutes. At one point, my parachute crossed paths with Sri’s, but I was around 1000 feet above him. The parachuting bit lasts about 7 to 8 minutes. Come to think about it, the whole experience isn’t exactly time-intensive. But we were thinking about it for hours. The exact feeling of falling from the sky is incredible. It was beautiful, calming, adrenaline pumping all at once.

Wow! Wow! Wow!

Posted on May 3rd, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Photographs, Self, Sri | 13 Comments »

Having seen Tashan

I can’t quite figure out why this film got such bad reviews. I actually enjoyed parts of it. The real star of this film is Akshay Kumar. As long as he’s on the screen, you don’t feel bored or annoyed. By now, you might have already read about the high levels of style and attitude quotient in the film. Which is all very fair. Everything about this film is attitude. Which does mean that there isn’t too much of a story.

The trouble is - that a style overdose works only if you have characters that are so well established that you don’t look for more hints. The film’s fundamental premise probably should have been revenge. For some reason, I got the feeling that they were trying to make a Kill Bill out of this one. True, Kill Bill has a wonderful sense of style and attitude to it, but that’s because it backs it with a strong, dark but absurdly funny undertone of tragedy and revenge all the while. This film focuses quite a bit on the characters that seem colourful but a few more shades of black in their characters couldn’t have hurt.

As for the reviewer who said the music in this film wasn’t good, I suggest she get her ears cleaned. I quite liked some of the tracks in the film, and they’ve sounded even nicer on a few replays that I hit. Currently, given my mood and the dire need to get some schoolwork done before some deadlines - this is my favourite track.

The last twenty minutes in the film were an absolute drag. They might as well have chopped off those minutes. I don’t think anybody would have noticed. Thing is, I am very fussy about the kind of fight sequences that I like. And while the film attempts to drool with style on every other aspect, the fights were very limp and so predictably flame-gunshot-rip limb apart-flame-repeat.

The thing is, you can mock and flatter at the same time. But that takes way too much talent. Oh, and I bloody wish Anil Kapoor was in more films. (But not that awful Black & White variety…)

Posted on April 28th, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Music, Film and Art | 6 Comments »

In which RR knits me a hat

I’ve never really had anything knitted for me. My mother was coerced by me to try and knit something for me. In the winters, all my classmates wore at least one item that had been lovingly knitted by some woman in their family. It probably has something to do with growing up in the South, but my mother never really understood the point behind knitting. Why would anyone sit down with yards of yarn and needles and do something that required such great levels of concentration? She never had seen any knitting been done in her family. And these are customs of habit. And familiarity.

She took up knitting one winter. My memory may fail me slightly but the yarn was thick and bright orange. I don’t know if she bought that yarn or if it was gifted to her. But there was enough of it to make two sweaters. She embarked on the project. She gave up in the middle I think. Perhaps a friend of hers finished the job. But what was to be a bright orange full sleeve sweater turned out to be a sleeveless and slightly tight. I also discovered then that I had a strange reaction to certain kinds of wool. It left my face red and puffy, and I constantly wanted to scratch the insides of my throat. She loves me to death.. my mother. But she can’t knit. Actually, being a supermom, she probably CAN knit, but she doesn’t like to.

I associated knitting with a certain kind of afternoon activity. In Delhi, you can see lots of people on extended lunch breaks in the winters. The men sit with their cups of tea and the women drink tea too. But they also knit. A furious vision of flying yarn on needles, automagically becoming something, someone might want to wear. I never really thought much about knitting before I met rr. She knits, and oh! so beautifully!

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Thus it was that rr embarked on the Hat For Neha Project (HFNP). I found the colour I liked and she began knitting furiously. In fact, today I saw her live in action knitting a sock. Perhaps it was the sheer range of colours on the yarn, or maybe it was that complicated process that took four needles. But it was beautiful to just watch her knit away as we were getting back to Central London on a train. She’s changed the way I look at knitting. I am seriously considering learning the art.

And the hat that she knit me? It’s warm, comfortable and I have it on good authority (rr’s) that it makes me look rather nice. I didn’t want to take it off, even when the sun was out.

Posted on April 16th, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Family and Friends, Self | 14 Comments »

Film: U Me aur Hum

If this film wasn’t about a spouse suffering from Alzheimer’s, it could have easily been a film about a spouse suffering from cirrhosis. By now enough spoilers are floating around the pipes. So I won’t go into the details. But here’s the biggest catch. It’s actually two films. One “before they got married” and one “after they got married”. I say this because there’s little in common between them. Except for mega doses of cheese. Actually, this film could have been about dairy farms. All that cheese.

I liked the second film better. The one that deals with the angst of feeling helpless when someone close to you is vulnerable. There are several details that make this part of the film very watchable. For instance, the couple’s friends. They are all very real. Squabbling, each with their own story. And yet, they’re obviously “as important as family”. There’s no grey-haired extended family of uncles and aunts pontificating about the sanctity of marriage. The husband sticks to the woman because he loves her.

And the other bit I liked. The couple doesn’t live in a sea facing bungalow near Juhu. They live in an apartment. (Yes, it’s very unrealistic that they have this fabulous by-the-sea apartment - but we’ll just assume there was some secret inheritance involved.). The one thing that does get you is that no one in the film ever drinks water, tea, coffee or even fruit juice. It’s always alcohol. Nothing but alcohol. And not just a social drink. The kinds that gets you seriously and embarrassingly drunk and results in hangovers.

Refreshingly, there is also the lack of motherly sentiment. I was half scared that they’d show that the woman took one look at her baby and everything became quite alright. Or that someone would appear on the screen and make a long speech about the baby’s well being. But nope, none of that. They’re more concerned for the sheer physical safety of the child. Nothing to do with “mamta”, “maa ka dil” and “maa ka pyaar”.

But there are long speeches in the film. Of other kinds. Which gets very tedious. Ajay Devgan is so intent on proving that he can speak that he launches into these monotonous, long winded lectures on love and responsibility. He talks, talks and then talks some more. On the other hand, Kajol is brilliant. I didn’t quite realize that she was this fabulous. Even when she is lost, or screeching, or struggling to remember the smallest of things - you don’t cringe. But there are other parts of this film that are very cringe-worthy. So no, you don’t escape that shrug of the shoulder and the futile attempt to dig your head into the popcorn box. In fact you don’t even believe that this man and this woman are in love, of any kind. It’s only in the second half, when you see Kajol and Ajay trying to make the best of what they have - that it gets into that good quality mush.

There are a few tense moments in the film. Kajol rules them all. Ajay Devgan is a mere prop in this film. Be warned. But overall I didn’t mind watching the film. I just wish they had chopped the first hour off.

I don’t remember any of the songs, except a couple. Nothing there. And there’s an adorable dog in the film too. I wish they’d shown more of the dog in the film. Though it seriously needed to go on an exercise regimen.

Posted on April 14th, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Music, Film and Art | 11 Comments »

Aye hip hopper!

I admit with great shame that I hadn’t heard this song any sooner. On the phone, my sister insisted I search for it on Youtube. I don’t know quite know what to make of it. I find it offensive and hilarious all at the same time. Not to mention the translation-defying lyrics:

Tere ghar mein bartan-shartan maanjhti hoon mein barabar,
Tu kabhi toh, mere dil ke ghar mein pocha karde aakar.

There’s something about the video that annoys me. The whole deal with a woman doing everything for the man who doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about her. Not to mention her scrubbing his feet and begging him to love her. Class angle, gender angle - this covers it all! And yet, I have to wonder if I am losing my sense of humour. Either way, for some reason - I’ve decided to like this song. Btw, isn’t Sunidhi Chauhan simply wonderful?

Posted on April 9th, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Music, Film and Art | 13 Comments »

Ugh!

Sometimes you read stuff that should be screenshot-ted and preserved for posterity. This is the case of the really boring and bordering on self-pity blog called Sir John Bull. Now you would expect someone who is a member of the BNP to be a complete moron. But this chap takes it way ahead. So this is what he had to say about rape.

Rape is simply sex (I am talking about ‘husband-rape’ here)… Women enjoy sex, so rape cannot be such a terrible physical ordeal…To suggest that rape, when conducted without violence, is a serious crime is like suggesting force-feeding a woman chocolate cake is a heinous offence.

On an average, comments like this put me off for a couple of hours at the very least. But then I decided to jump through the cache of the blog and I spotted this gem.

Yes indeed kind readers, we now officially know that “white, middle class, male drivers” are the most oppressed social group evah! Now that the BNP has sacked him, maybe he’ll turn to stand up comedy. For more on the xenophobic, insecure nonsense that the BNP peddles, do read Ian Cobain’s articles in The Guardian on his experience as an undercover journalist working his way through the BNP.

There, that’s ruined chocolate cake for me - forever. Ugh!

Posted on April 9th, 2008 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Politics, UK, wtf | 6 Comments »

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