Saw this movie a few weeks ago and knew that this one I got to write about! :) To be very honest, it did not live up to my expectations. That is not to say that it isn't a great movie. It is. I was expecting something much more gripping though!
Anyway, so as the trailer suggests the movie reflects on two very different individuals' experience of "waiting" for their respective partners to wake up from a state of coma. The contrast is brought out by Shiv - effortlessly portrayed by Naseeruddin Shah - as the older, more seasoned 'waiter' and Tara - an effervescent, recently married, expletive spouting young woman played by Kalki Koechlin. It's about how we are alone in our grief and how two very different people bond over a common misfortune.
There is a point in the narrative when Tara is struggling to come to terms with the reality of her husband's accident, and Shiv explains the "stages of grief" in a manner that would have done Elizabeth Kubler-Ross proud! It's too textbook to tug at your heart-strings though. Maybe that's what the movie is missing. I would have loved to see more depth in the narrative. Perhaps covering a longer period of time. And the open-to-interpretation conclusion may not go well with a lot of people. That's just my perspective though. The movie is definitely worth a watch!
Jun 30, 2016
May 26, 2016
She was trying to speak between violent sobs. And I was directing all my energy to my ears, struggling to comprehend her words. Three things became evident pretty soon. She was in distress. She was in a vulnerable place. And she was desperate for help. I was petrified to be on the receiving end of this 'crisis call'. To be absolutely honest, in the first few moments when all I could hear was a wailing woman, I contemplated hanging up on the pretext of not being able to hear what she said. I am not sure whether it was fear of being pulled up if the call was audited or something more meaningful that made me hang on. I would like to believe it was the latter!
She said she wanted to end her suffering. That it was getting too much to bear. I asked her to promise me that she wouldn't do anything to hurt herself. She refused. My heart sank to my toes when she told me of her plan as well as access to means for harming herself. There are knives in the kitchen, she admitted quietly. I was at a loss for words. My mind seemed to have slowed down. A voice inside me was screaming, say something! Anything! You have to save her! 'But how?' asked a smaller, more timid voice.
After what seemed like forever, I told her not to go to the kitchen as long as we were on phone together. To my immense relief, she agreed! She started to share her heart-breaking tale. I wanted to comfort her. To reassure her. Yet, I was at a complete loss of words. I probably asked some mindless questions. I can't be too sure. She said something about writing a letter to her daughter and 'ending it'. Before I could react, she hung up!
I have never been more disappointed and scared at the same time. With alarm bells ringing in my head, it seemed as though every single nerve in my body was taut with tension. My manager suggested I call her again. She rejected the call. I tried again. And this time she picked it. Relief, nervousness, fear...I felt it all at once - electrifying my very being. I tried to keep this out of my voice, and requested her to stay with me. 'Don't talk if you don't want to,' I said, 'but stay on line with me please.' Again, to my immense relief, she agreed.
The 20 odd minutes that followed, till we connected her with her mental health worker, were... I don't really have words for what they were. I wanted her to know how much I wanted her to live. But I didn't know how to. She said she was scared. I wanted to say 'so am I'. Instead, I tried being strong for her. Tried distracting her and 'holding' her. Every few seconds I repeated her name and asked if she was there. Every time I asked her to take a deep breath, I did too. I wonder what that was like for her. Was she feeling frustrated by my feeble attempts? Or was she grateful to have another person with her in this? Either way, I am immensely grateful to her for letting me be with her. For my sake more than hers. Because I know how badly this would have haunted me if I did not have the reassurance that she was in safe hands.
That was then. I have no way of knowing what happened after. Did she get the much needed support? Did things get any better for her? I don't know. But I am hoping that she knows, that she is not alone. Then again, I wonder, what was my desperation all about. Was it because I didn't want her to kill herself on 'my watch'? Or because I genuinely wanted her to live. Either way, it was a draining experience. And I am glad she called in.
She said she wanted to end her suffering. That it was getting too much to bear. I asked her to promise me that she wouldn't do anything to hurt herself. She refused. My heart sank to my toes when she told me of her plan as well as access to means for harming herself. There are knives in the kitchen, she admitted quietly. I was at a loss for words. My mind seemed to have slowed down. A voice inside me was screaming, say something! Anything! You have to save her! 'But how?' asked a smaller, more timid voice.
After what seemed like forever, I told her not to go to the kitchen as long as we were on phone together. To my immense relief, she agreed! She started to share her heart-breaking tale. I wanted to comfort her. To reassure her. Yet, I was at a complete loss of words. I probably asked some mindless questions. I can't be too sure. She said something about writing a letter to her daughter and 'ending it'. Before I could react, she hung up!
I have never been more disappointed and scared at the same time. With alarm bells ringing in my head, it seemed as though every single nerve in my body was taut with tension. My manager suggested I call her again. She rejected the call. I tried again. And this time she picked it. Relief, nervousness, fear...I felt it all at once - electrifying my very being. I tried to keep this out of my voice, and requested her to stay with me. 'Don't talk if you don't want to,' I said, 'but stay on line with me please.' Again, to my immense relief, she agreed.
The 20 odd minutes that followed, till we connected her with her mental health worker, were... I don't really have words for what they were. I wanted her to know how much I wanted her to live. But I didn't know how to. She said she was scared. I wanted to say 'so am I'. Instead, I tried being strong for her. Tried distracting her and 'holding' her. Every few seconds I repeated her name and asked if she was there. Every time I asked her to take a deep breath, I did too. I wonder what that was like for her. Was she feeling frustrated by my feeble attempts? Or was she grateful to have another person with her in this? Either way, I am immensely grateful to her for letting me be with her. For my sake more than hers. Because I know how badly this would have haunted me if I did not have the reassurance that she was in safe hands.
That was then. I have no way of knowing what happened after. Did she get the much needed support? Did things get any better for her? I don't know. But I am hoping that she knows, that she is not alone. Then again, I wonder, what was my desperation all about. Was it because I didn't want her to kill herself on 'my watch'? Or because I genuinely wanted her to live. Either way, it was a draining experience. And I am glad she called in.
Mar 29, 2016
These are just few of my favorite things
I had a great 2 years in the U.K. Life as a student is anyway super. The backdrop of awesome places like Keele and Manchester only add to the charm! Even though I never intended to stay on forever, now that I'm back almost 4 years, there's a few things I really really miss, and have strong cravings for sometimes! Off the top of my head, in no particular order...
"Full English breakfast" at Weatherspoons.
Fried eggs with runny yolks, crisp bacon and baked beans.
Sausages and mash.
Heat and eat meals from MnS Food.
Cheap wine.
Carrot cake.
Angel cake.
Red velvet cake.
ANY cake.
Daylight at 8pm.
Weeknights at KPA with friends.
Cafeteria food.
Weekly trips to grocery stores.
10 trip bus tickets.
Random £1 shopping.
Trafford center and Arndale.
Train journeys.
Bus rides.
Strangers holding the door for you.
Politeness.
Random kindness.
Huge tress with bright blossoms.
Primark. Shoes. Dresses!
Steak.
Pubs.
Doner and fries.
Afghan food joints.
Curry mile.
Counselling at Beacon.
London.
Being alone.
Random walks.
Iceland.
Christmas.
Autumn!
Frost. Snow.
Choice of alcohol.
Variety of cleaning stuff - wipes, sprays, mops...
Hot chocolate.
Uh oh..that's longer than I expected. Got to find a way to visit soon! :)
"Full English breakfast" at Weatherspoons.
Fried eggs with runny yolks, crisp bacon and baked beans.
Sausages and mash.
Heat and eat meals from MnS Food.
Cheap wine.
Carrot cake.
Angel cake.
Red velvet cake.
ANY cake.
Daylight at 8pm.
Weeknights at KPA with friends.
Cafeteria food.
Weekly trips to grocery stores.
10 trip bus tickets.
Random £1 shopping.
Trafford center and Arndale.
Train journeys.
Bus rides.
Strangers holding the door for you.
Politeness.
Random kindness.
Huge tress with bright blossoms.
Primark. Shoes. Dresses!
Steak.
Pubs.
Doner and fries.
Afghan food joints.
Curry mile.
Counselling at Beacon.
London.
Being alone.
Random walks.
Iceland.
Christmas.
Autumn!
Frost. Snow.
Choice of alcohol.
Variety of cleaning stuff - wipes, sprays, mops...
Hot chocolate.
Uh oh..that's longer than I expected. Got to find a way to visit soon! :)
Mar 23, 2016
Difficult decisions
My grandmother is very unwell. She has been deteriorating for the last few weeks. It is heart-breaking to see her shriveling like that. Of course I want her to get better. Of course I want her to get out of bed and walk around like I am used to seeing her. A part of me knows though, that the possibility of that happening is quite bleak. It is something all of us have been told indirectly by the doctor.
Last week, she stopped all food and water intake and was semi-conscious for almost the entire day - flitting in and out of wakefulness and sleep. That's when the time came for one of the most difficult decisions. She is lucky in that she is surrounded by her children and grandchildren who love her dearly. But having so many people care for you complicates matter too. Every one of us wants the best for her. Each of us want her to 'be back'. Yet, there is a fundamental difference of opinions and values. While some have deep faith in medical miracles, others are of the opinion that prolonging her pain is unnecessary.
The question was, whether to admit her to a hospital or continue to care at home. It was hope vs. acceptance of a painful reality. But more than that, it was also the guilt - of giving up too easily, of not having done enough. After much deliberation, disagreement and drama, it was decided that she would be moved to a hospital. So that she could get round the clock professional attention, so that if there was even the slightest chance of her recovery - it wasn't missed.
It has been almost 4 days now. She is in the ICU. Only allowed visitors for 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the evening. Undergoing multiple tests everyday. With tubes stuck down her nose and wrist. Knowing her, I am guessing she is terrified. Her fear of abandonment must be stronger than ever before.
What is the point of this, I wonder. I understand why my elders made the decision they did. I know it was not an easy one. Yet I can't help but think - what if we had a different view of life and death? What if prolonging life artificially did not trump respecting death? Why are we doing this to her? So she lives on for a few more weeks? Are we really doing anything to reduce her pain? Or just consoling ourselves that we didn't let go. And who is it that we are trying to convince? We love her, we all do. Why does it have to be proved this way?
Last week, she stopped all food and water intake and was semi-conscious for almost the entire day - flitting in and out of wakefulness and sleep. That's when the time came for one of the most difficult decisions. She is lucky in that she is surrounded by her children and grandchildren who love her dearly. But having so many people care for you complicates matter too. Every one of us wants the best for her. Each of us want her to 'be back'. Yet, there is a fundamental difference of opinions and values. While some have deep faith in medical miracles, others are of the opinion that prolonging her pain is unnecessary.
The question was, whether to admit her to a hospital or continue to care at home. It was hope vs. acceptance of a painful reality. But more than that, it was also the guilt - of giving up too easily, of not having done enough. After much deliberation, disagreement and drama, it was decided that she would be moved to a hospital. So that she could get round the clock professional attention, so that if there was even the slightest chance of her recovery - it wasn't missed.
It has been almost 4 days now. She is in the ICU. Only allowed visitors for 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the evening. Undergoing multiple tests everyday. With tubes stuck down her nose and wrist. Knowing her, I am guessing she is terrified. Her fear of abandonment must be stronger than ever before.
What is the point of this, I wonder. I understand why my elders made the decision they did. I know it was not an easy one. Yet I can't help but think - what if we had a different view of life and death? What if prolonging life artificially did not trump respecting death? Why are we doing this to her? So she lives on for a few more weeks? Are we really doing anything to reduce her pain? Or just consoling ourselves that we didn't let go. And who is it that we are trying to convince? We love her, we all do. Why does it have to be proved this way?
Mar 9, 2016
Tears
If you'd pause to think, you would see
my tears hold the answers that you seek
do you really seek answers, i often wonder
for i don't hear you pause
i hear your questions
and the anguish behind them
and i wish i could put the tears into words
but i can't
they flow, when there are no words.
i have always been
at a loss for spoken word
smiles and tears i am easy with.
my tears are not a means
to seek vengeance or to hurt
to punish or to rub in.
they are an expression
of a girl who is at a loss for spoken words.
my tears hold the answers that you seek
do you really seek answers, i often wonder
for i don't hear you pause
i hear your questions
and the anguish behind them
and i wish i could put the tears into words
but i can't
they flow, when there are no words.
i have always been
at a loss for spoken word
smiles and tears i am easy with.
my tears are not a means
to seek vengeance or to hurt
to punish or to rub in.
they are an expression
of a girl who is at a loss for spoken words.
Mar 1, 2016
Memories
My stomach hurt from laughing so much. This man had a wicked wicked sense of humor! I don't think I have laughed like this for decades now. As a divorced, reclusive workaholic 50-something, I did not give myself much opportunity to lighten up and enjoy.
I met J on an online dating site. I am quite a skeptic when it comes to connecting with people via internet. Call me conservative, old-school, whatever. I just don't think it's safe! But a friend of mine - one of the few non-work-humans I am in regular contact with - created a 'profile' for me and insisted on playing the matchmaker. I am not sure what made me indulge her, but I did. And I must admit, I'm glad about it!
The first person to 'express interest' in my profile was J. His profile described him as a teenager trapped in a middle-aged man's body. I found that funny; and with more than necessary goading from my friend, I started talking to him through chat. Our interests matched on many levels, and differed on many more. I had never come across anyone like J. He seemed to have interests ranging from wine to cricket, Harry Potter to Jagjit Singh, World wars to cottage industries. He seemed to know something about everything. He had strong opinions about politics, philosophy, science, economics, the list seemed endless! Yet somehow, he seemed real, grounded. Not once did I feel out of my depth or that I was interacting with a pretentious douche. After almost a week of near constant chatter about everything under the sun, J suggested we meet (his exact words: "'coz frankly my dear...my fingers hurt from all the typing!").
So here we are, 5 hours after we first met in person - having the best time I have had in years. To be completely honest, I don't think I am attracted to J. I don't think he is attracted to me either. But he seems like a terrific person. He reminds me of my ex-wife in some weird way. We were great together. She was my best friend for the longest time. My pillar of support, my confidante, my strength. No, it's not how you think it is. We did not part ways because I am gay. She knew about it. Maybe not when she fell in love with me...but soon after.
We were really young then. Maybe it was foolish to get married knowing fully well that we would never be everything that the other wanted. But this was the 1980s. I couldn't dare to openly declare my sexuality. I don't think I can do it even today! I was not too sure about my sexuality either... But both of us were sure of one thing - that we loved each other's company. And in the innocence and recklessness of our youth, decided that that was all it would take for us to live happily ever after. Our families gladly consented to the match.
Neither of us realized how frustrating it would get - and how soon! Not just because there was no sex in the marriage. We had an unsaid understanding. Both of us could gratify our sexual needs outside the marriage. I was naive enough to believe that this arrangement was flawless. I was in for a shock when 4 years after our marriage - almost 10 years since we had known each other - she declared that she was pregnant. And that she thought it was best to raise the child with its biological father. Needless to say, I was devastated. I felt cheated, used. Why couldn't she just have sex without getting attached? I even tried reasoning with her. Told her that we could raise the child as our own. I would be the best father there ever was. She trampled over my heart by telling me that she did not love me anymore. That both of us were not in college now and one of us had to be an adult an put an end to our crazy "social experiment" that we called marriage.
'Don't tell me you missed my finest joke!' J's voice jolted me back to the present. I couldn't keep reminiscing over something that happened almost 20 years ago. Why then, did it still feel so fresh? Why did it still hurt so bad?
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