Death Be Not Proud

I woke up in the morning, feeling fresh (realizing it is a Sunday and I won’t have to rush to office, Yes I m a self proclaimed lazy man who hates going to office). On my way on a usual Sunday morning walk to buy fresh fish (oh yah I’m getting addicted to Kolkata and macher jhol) I called you up hoping to talk to you after a longtime. Your cell was not reachable; the other number was switched off. I thought what the heck; this guy is not even bothered to talk to me. He has not spoken to me for four months. I thought did you forget the great time we spent during our tryst with a humid and humble Chennai and subsequent room sharing days at Mumbai. Those were the days we used to brave a mad Mumbai crowd to travel in local train, to explore the vintage Vasai fort. I’m sure you still remember the funny incident, while waiting to board a local train at Andheri station for three hours (yes, because we morons could not dare to push people and get into already overcrowded coach or had the flexibility to hang like a monkey on a moving train) when you lead us into a bar, presuming it to be a restaurant and the subsequent embarrassment that followed for three of us who don’t drink. But then why didn’t you call me in these four months. Ah busy life I must say. Then do you think I m going to call your landline number and enquire about you. Buzz off you idiot, I ‘m also busy, at most I will write a small mail to you asking you to share your no. if at all you want to. While all those thoughts were going on in my mind I finished my regular purchase and headed home. Once I reached home, I collected my plate of cut fruits and picked up The Sunday Times. Ah there you go…this TOI reminded me of the days when in Mumbai you used to go for morning walk and used to collect TOI for me. That generous gesture from you, used to help me those awesome fifteen minutes of extra sleep in the morning. I thought let me call your landline and to my utter surprise your hometown landline number was still saved in the mobile. In haste I called the number. An elderly gentleman picked up the call. I presumed must be your father, I introduced myself and requested him to give your new number. He replied “How can I give you his number”. I was stunned. Those lines are still ringing in my ears. Surprised I asked why not, and continued asking about your where about. He said you are no more. I became numb. He told me on that fateful boxing day of 2011 while working in office you succumbed to a massive heart attack. Slowly his voice became shaky; I started trembling, unable to realize is it true or surreal. How can a healthy, non smoking, teetotaler youngster suddenly die of massive heart attack. It can’t be true. It can never happen to us, it always happens to people we don’t know, it happens in movies, we read about it in newspaper. But it can’t certainly happen to one of us.  Ah life can’t be so cruel and god damn it happened four months back. And a jerk like me who is so active on social networking site even didn’t get to know it. Impossible, I ran to your FB home page to explore innumerable condolences from friends, faculties, colleagues and even from the man who put your cold body in the morgue. So you are no more. Hardly did I realize it even an hour back when I was scolding you thinking why you didn’t call me in all these months. Rarely did I realize that you’re a in a cell phone and social networking barred zone. But still I m sure you must me reading all those messages on your FB wall. It is still active. You are still very much a part of many of ours subconscious.

What do I do?  I ‘m in the stage of perpetual denial.  I will not mourn. You will still be a usual part of my life, the way you had been part of my subconscious for last four months, when I didn’t know you are no more on earth. I will celebrate each moment of life, ignoring the small intricacies. I will live the moment, future is a state of uncertainty. I will use today to fulfill all the dreams and aspirations, planning for future and “Waiting for Godot” is so vague. We in our arrogance and ignorance forget that life is transient and this limited journey on earth must be a celebration, it should be grand as an opera and must be full of love, happiness and bonhomie. I’m not Bhisma Pitamah and I can’t decide my death, but I will live each moment of a blessed life till it lasts. Don’t rest in peace Prasoon, rather keep rocking wherever you are. 

Review - Vicky Donor

#Vicky Donor: One of the biggest advantages of a 21^st century film maker is the presence of a sensible and mature audience, which is open to explore new territories as long as the story is represented in its true spirit. This gives enough elbow room to creative directors like Shoojit Sircar  who takes a spermy  opps  stormy issue out of the closet , adds a generous dose  of humor and presents it sensibly to the audience. What the movie deals with is the acceptability of a practice which may soon become a necessity for the survival of human race (!!) in near future, thanks to an unhealthy and stressed lifestyle. Ayushman Khurana’s spontaneity, as a typical brash and loud Punjabi lad with a golden heart is a treat to watch. I have always believed Annu Kapoor as one of the most under rated artists in Hindi Cinema and as an eccentric Dr. Chaddha he proves what a brilliant actor he is. A special mention about the love – hate relationship between Vicky’s mom and her gizmo –savvy smart mother in law. And Juhi Chaturvedi must be given credit for sketching the characters so different from the clichéd Saas-Bahu relation. Their drunken conversations are a treat to watch and tickle the funny bones. The movie scores well because it never tries to preach you, it simply presents the subject and let’s you decide is it necessary to make a fuss about everything or enjoy the beauty of life. Where the movie could have done better is the editing of the second half, especially the climax which seems too stretched. Also somewhere the success of Kahaani is perhaps making all Bengali directors capture few frames from Kolkata , the maidan, the Victoria memorial. This I believe could have been done without or kept a bare minimum. However I m going out with three out of five for Shoojit Sircar’s refreshing  take on a socially relevant topic.