Krrish 3...SPOLIER ALERT!!!!! DISCONTINUE READING SHOULD YOU WISH TO WATCH THE FILM.

Perhaps it is by virtue of being a GP teacher. There, I have just gone and constructed a sentence fragment which I would underline with a squiggle, had I been marking. As a GP tutor, I have been reading up and explaining and engaging in a lot of discussion off late about the realms of Science and Ethics. Are they necessarily mutually exclusive? Can they co-exist in harmony? Is Science dangerous, does it hold lethal potential? Is human intention the main factor through which Science can manifest itself as good or bad? What is the most noble ideal of Science? To benefit the world of animals and humans alike? How subjective is the notion of 'ethics?' Does the definition change with varying situations? Why then are we seeing the creation of so much technology which is out to destroy? Do we foresee an apocalyptic future, with an Armageddon between Good (humanity?) and evil?(machines?) Or may it be the other way round? Are machines necessarily bad...of course not...then...is it the motivation behind the creation which will determine all that follows...

Questions of this order have been heatedly debated and discussed over the past few days: with students, my parents, my friends...

So as I stepped into Jurong Point's Golden Village to watch Krrish 3, I felt like I had stepped into the heart of it all...This will not be a very 'academic' post at all, just an outpouring (hmmm) from my heart...(hmmm again)

Okay, I might s well begin with a confession...of my love for the Roshan boy...he has always struck me as being an earnest, sincere and eager actor, and coupled with his, well, pulchritude, those eyes, that smile, and that nose (yes, it possibly sounds like I am in love, besides other things, with the way he looks) that I was determined to like the film...shallow as that may sound, I beg your indulgence, allow me a fan-girl moment... And I must admit that I have always thought of Vivek Oberoi as an earnest actor, though I must say that this was a far cry from one of his better performances.
So I was excited...despite having heard and read reviews which vehemently trashed the film.

Two scientists, both undeniably intelligent, endowed with resources galore and heaps of brains are on vastly different missions: one, to benefit humanity by utilising the Sun's infinite energy and the other, to wreak havoc on humankind through biological warfare...thereby underscoring the value of intention which detremines the use or/and abuse of science.

Can Man/Woman play God? Should we intefere with the processes of Nature? Should we be 'audacious' enough to follow in the footsteps of H.G.Wells's Dr. Morrow or those of Kaal, who gleefully merges animal DNA with that of humans?
The idea which has been picked up by many critics, and indeed a focus of the film itself, is that of 'playing God.' Kaal is trying to play God as he unhesitatingly and unflinchingly conducts cruel experiments on animals and humans alike, in a bid to fuse their DNA...some critics have very skillfully ( thanks, Captains Obvious) pointed out that Krrish and Dr. Mehra are also playing at playing God...they are trying to go out and save lives, actively do something to alleviate the misery of the everyday...indeed Dr. Mehra goes against God's dictum of Death and resurrects his only son with the help of his invention...but, hang on for a minute!!!!!! Is this even the issue at hand? In an age where we have witnessed the creation of a Vacanti Mouse, on which scientists grew a human ear for the purpose of organ transplant, in an era where animal testing is rampant, in an era where medical research is delving deep into how to cheat/push away death and disease, as exhibited by the increasing populations of the aged, are we not trying to gain more control over the world than we ever had? Stem cell research has used mouse embryonic cells...aren't we all in our own ways, trying to gain Power over the unknown? But the main and more pressing issue to me seems to be WHY we are doing this? Is it to benefit humankind? One could rightfully argue that we are violating the rights of animals just for human gain...and I do find that a valid claim. However, how can we simplistically say that Krrish should not blame Kaal for playing God because he and his dad are doing the same?

The point is simple...in fact it is so simple that it is dangerously easy to overlook...Krrish and his father are 'playing God' to do GOOD things...and for Believers like myself, God is an embodiment of ALL that is good, all that we should strive to be, the moral compass which directs and guides... Maybe one could argue that the definition of the word Good is subjective, but even by subjective parameters,  Krrish and his father's  intentions are not to harm or hurt...rather to help and relieve...they are not driven by cold and mercenary concerns ...they are not merely strategising businessmen who devise ways of making the most money with their limited resources...of spreading fear to increase demands for their medicine... the choice here is a moral choice...the tragedy here is, in our endeavour to be astute critics of what many consider a flawed story, we are losing sight of the motivation for evil lurking, in its beguiling and wicked splendor, in so many everyday situations...which we overlook...

And that brings me to a greater question. How many of us are willing to accept help in humility? That would mean acknowledging inadequacies of some sort...or do we seek help in an ungrateful manner, posing as if the helpers could not do without us...recalling the notion of the Hegelian master slave dialectic and the politics of dependence to mind.

Altruism versus megalomania could be the other: megalomania and altruism are not antonyms, but one could try and pitch them against one another in this case...I guess...Krrish and his father Rohit are willing to sacrifice their time, energy and blood for the greater cause of saving the world...they are intensely stirred by the suffering all around them...so emotions can catalyse great scientific inventions and discoveries...it's not only about cold, calculating and uber-logical beings, sitting in a semi de-humanised lab, trying to out-patent one another...which brings me to another theme...is logic necessarily devoid of ethics? Science is logical, ethics belong to the realm of morals...are they necessarily as different as we may  think they are? Kaal is an undeniable megalomaniac...though Krrish hides his identity, in keeping with the 'anonymous' vigilantes of the West, he has no clear desire for fame as he never reveals his true identiy...whereas Kaal, despite his metallic, and rather scrappy metallic get up, seems to be consumed by a burning desire for Power...power to be make money and gain control...but does "power corrupt and absolute power corrupt absolutely?" In the right hands, can power lead to benefits? Absolute is the enemy word...the key word, the 'absolute' term...can power co-exist with humility? Can it ever be a one man's world? The film hints a the power of collaboration, of finding the good within...

I was very curious to unpack Kaal's motivation for his unadulterated evilness...what could it be? Why does he wish to create a race of super humans and wipe out humanity? In an age where 'designer babies' and cloning are the topics of raging debates, one could take a minute out to wonder. Does Kaal associate all human beings with frailty, weakness, emotion and most importantly disability? Is it the fact that he is paralysed from head down which prompts him to somehow create a breed of creatures who will never be susceptible to such a condition? Are his machinations an indirect result of suffering? He himself is an experiment gone wrong...he is a guinea pig product of Dr. Arya's quest for a super human...a super human who has not evolved in terms of compassion or kindness...

Which brings me to another question: who is a super-human? Who is a hero? Possessing incredible powers is shown to be secondary to possessing the precious (and sadly, perhaps increasingly rare) qualities of compassion. selflessness and genuine sympathy/empathy for others...hence to 'evolve' into a super human, we don't need to depend on external powers of flight and might, but rather cultivate and cleanse the soul within...as the movie adroitly implies, Krrish is a state of consciousness, the potential for good latent or indeed blatant in each and every person...and on a more sinister note, one could also assume that there is a latent/blatant Kaal within each one of us...What is evolution? Would I be wrong to argue that as our back bone straightened over time, our integrity and uprightness should also grow stronger to evolve into a better breed of humanity? We should not strive for efficiency to a point where anything which is at once obviously necessary yet obviously superfluous should be sacrificed...empathy, sympathy, the act of being charitable, sometimes losing but actually ethically triumphing?

There is one thing which moved me immensely...during his battle sequnce with Kaal, Krrish, in a way which touched me, tries his best to avoid collateral damage...he does not accept "incidental casualties" (in the age of drones and nuclear warfare) with a practical shrug of his (gorgeous )shoulders...he values every human life, even if that "disadvantages" him...to the end, he is more a humane hero than a merely strategising one...and ofcourse, Krrish himself acknowledges that being human gives him strength and not weakness...

And the gratifying realisation that dawns on one at the end, inevitable and cliched as it may sound, is that love is indeed the answer...and we should not relegate this realisation to the realm of the hackneyed, because we cannot afford to take it for granted in an age of civil war, drones, violence and corruption. We cannot...th importance of love is grossly under-rated...it is a term which is hugely misunderstood...some experiences I have undergone and stories I have heard and hear everyday, validates this even more...

There are allusions...the notion of Eugenics...Kaal's desire to create the most superior of races calls to mind the obvious reference to the Nazis...the notion of two people, who are poles apart yet with unmistakeable similarities, drew Harry Potter and Voldemort to my mind...how everything depends on a choice...it is ultimately all in our hands...and despite the aching carnage induced by 'bad,' the movie re-iterates the hope of good, in some form or the other, triumphing in some way or the other, over evil...the fact that Kaal is 'playing God' while the brilliant and kind Dr. Mehra prays to God in humility, acknowledging a Power greater than himself, is another thought that struck me.

All in all, I thought Krrish 3 was thought provoking, creative and had its heart in the right place...of course it wasn't perfect, but to me, that was okay...there is nothing necessarily redeeming about perfection...maybe I would have liked it if there was more emphasis on gender...if Krrish and Priya's child had been a daughter...

Oh and a passing thought...the character of Kaya, de-humanised, epitomising inhumanity, manipulation and fabrication, too is capable of reforming her non-human self through Love...so the power of love can transcend the non-human as well...

I would recommend the movie, for though it might be easy to dismiss it, as some have, as juvenile and hackneyed, we live in a world, where increasingly, the values it protects are fast diminishing and are difficult to take for granted.

 

Morning

The morning breaks, in slow degrees of sunshine,
The first stirrings of a sleepy dawn,
Who shakes her tousled head ,
And reluctantly bids adieu
To night's comforting bed.
The clouds slowly awake,
To the touch of the first pristine light,
The warm glow of the sunrise
Is a fascinating sight.
The capricious breezes blow,
Sometimes swift, or slow,
And alarm clocks
Rouse those in slumber
To get them in their boats
To row
Through a new day.

I guess...

I guess absolute happiness is the illusory ideal we all seem to pursue silently and actively, determinedly and hesitantly...but the problem with this ideal is that nowhere is ideal...as I have often thought to myself these days, everywhere is perfect and not prefect, all at once...does that sound contradictory, because the idea of perfection seems to imply the exclusion of anything not pleasant...but honestly, the more I study things, they just seem to be two sides of the same coin...
Not all days are equally good...some days, teaching may bring an instant dose of immense satisfaction, and I often receive messages of warm encouragement from well-wishers who belive that the job that I wake up early each morning to rush to, will make a contribution of some sort which will benefit society. But then again, I wonder why so many memebers of this world, and indeed my own nation, talk about education as a very important tool, but refuse to give adequate, well, recognition to educators and teachers? If we hope to live in a knowledge-based economy, should our focus not shift to the quality of education which is ever so reliant on those who impart knowledge? I still feel that besides my family, my teachers are the beings who most profoundly influenced me and shaped my ideals and world views. There were those teachers who inspired us beyond imagination, whose memories still occupy a prized seat in prime positions of our minds.
That is the prime thought which motivates me to put my best foot forward and try to do my best though of course I have "miles to go," before I can rest in a more assured confidence of my skills.
Other days may bring discouragement, a lack of motivation, other personal problems such as feelings of homesickness and reconciling to the increased complexities which accompany growing up...
Sometimes when I crave rest and just lie on bed, my mind spins and wanders like an energetic top, spun by a very energetic child...so many thoughts move back and forth...and then I try to think back to how I kept myself very happy in the past...the other day I actually strolled in to Popular and strolled out with three volumes of Enid Blyton's short stories, which might seem preposterous for a girl of my age, but makes perfect sense to me...so in the midst of long hours of work, teaching, marking, happy and serious conversations, and reading Hemingway's 'A Farewell to Arms,' I have been peppering my moments with small doses of those familiar short tales from my childhood, and feeling an instant surge of re-connect and happiness.
As the days go by, I have to realise that a lot of Life is just about coming to terms with situations as they are. At a younger age, one might think it is possible to change the world, at least some of its aspects...but the only route to any change is really a change within, beginning with introspection and reflection and culminating in one's own actions. Of course, along the way one meets people to help, guide and share, but this primarily remains an individual endeavour and a deep dialogue with a Higher Being.

Current happenings

Yesterday, I decided to renounce the idea of taking a bus home from a shopping mall I had visited and decided to stroll through the evening instead. Yes, I did say stroll "through" it. Because as I walked, the evening seemed to be a sort of pink pool of thoughts, which I had to swim through, whose waters I had to navigate, whose curtains I had to part, to wind my way back home.
As I walked I gave myself up to intuition, to some inner compass which I trusted would guide me...I used to be and possibly still am rather hopeless with directions, but somehow, something seemed to lead me home, though I had hardly used this particular route before...and this seemed to me to be deeply symbolic of the life we lead...sometimes, we just have to believe in a Being which is Higher than ourselves, which helps us transcend our own little limitations...this Being may also reside within us, representing a certain unleashed potetential, a kind of unexplored possibility, which might be resting, latent, within us all.
And that is when, through the course of this walk, my mind began to wander...the past 2 and a half years seemed to unravel themselves, like an unfurling carpet, in my "mind's eye..." (thanks Shakespeare, for coining such apt terms, which we use at Will...pun intended)...how when I first arrived on these shores, I would take long and solitary walks around the Boon Lay area, and how awfully home and heart sick I felt. How I used never to enjoy those moments alone, and would call home and cling on to the voices of my family and friends. How I would sit for hours on the benches of the HDB parks, well not hours, but the minutes sure seemed to drag, and breathe deeply, trying to be brave and blinking back tears, ashamed at my 23 year old adult self exhibiting juvenile behaviour...how all my philosophy on how to enjoy each moment and take care to avoid homesickness, had flown off to another world.
I remembered how I couldn't sleep some nights on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with its cold white floors, bare white walls and dull brown furniture. How I craved the colour and warmth which danced in those homes I had left behind. How I craved to feel the presence of loved ones by my side. And how I sought confort in trying to introduce elements of the familiar within the unfamiliar...old books which I strewed upon the table, with scribbled messages from my lovely friends...how Rabindrashangeet would play on my computer late into the nights, very softly, of course...how I would close my eyes and imagine I had never left...I even remember some funny incidents with the laundry, how I suddenly decided to wash MOST of my wardrobe one day, and how the dryer wasn't working and how I had to desperately fan them into dryness over the next couple of days...
And slowly, suddenly, surely, rapidly, the new became more "un-new" (yes, I just coined that ridiculous term, not even aiming to match up to Shakespeare). When I was doing my ESE I found myself craving the rest and repose offered by the unfamiliar room on long and tiring days, how I suddenly looked forward to conversations with my new friends, how I craved certain suddenly familiar foods at certain frequently visited canteen shops...I began feeling less nervous during lessons and gaining some degree of confidence, how I began, very slowly, to feel less sleepy in the mornings...less tired through the day...time seemed to be a vitamin, pumping energy into my veins...
And how, suddenly, the city I was a foreigner in, began to open its arms to me , in ways both obvious and imperceptible. How Jurong Point, where I had spent so much time just trying to figure myself out in the sea of anonymity surrounding me, suddenly ceased to seem clinical and detached...how the roads suddenly seemd to spell meaning, how certain hours of the day called my name...I may sound very fanciful but this is how it seemed then, and how it still seems now...
Then we moved on to NIE, where we lived on a verdant and lush campus...that too had seemed so lonesome and distant at first...but how I quickly convinced myself that every moment I would enjoy or despair over, would become a memory I might miss the next...so I explored the campus and thrust a few inches of my soul into loving the place...the white flowers which sent out a haunting and too-sweet perfume at night still punctuate my dreams...those meals at the different cnteens, with me falling prey to some not so delicious and some delicous food, the times when my daddy visited me, and I jumped up and down with exquisite joy at the mere thought of meeting him at the guest house, how he would buy me all the groceries which I couldn't possibly store from this shop called Grocer...still makes me smile...and how when I told him ,"Dad, I don't have a fridge," he would insist I eat and finish everything that day itself...how I made so many new friends, the Indian canteen where I still remember mostly eating Western food...
How I used to go for classes using those dear green shuttle buses, how nice the bus uncles were, how I would always walk on the grass and never the concrete path to reach NIE...how after a few days of being dazed, class-rooms, blocks and professors became familiar...all those luches and conversations with friends at the canteen, our British accent games, all those greeeeeat new friends I made...all those evenings of swimming, all those hours I would spend on the sports track, either walking or musing, often both, sometimes neither...how I would leave at 530 am each morning for practicum, sitting at a still very early morning-so dark bus stop, listening to frogs croaking somewhere...and board the 199 bus to the train station...walking through the smells of breakfast at Jurong Point...house hunting and eating at the Japanese rice wrap shop my friend introduced me too...
How I would come back late, on very busy work days and make a dash for the porridge stall at the canteen...how my throat thrilled to the warmth of hot honey and lemon, how I would share a room with my room-mate, and how I wrapped myself and my identity into the half of the room which I occupied...how I wrote so many poems sitting at the desk, when I should have been making lesson plans, how I had to stay awake some nights as a result, to finish off my work...
To now, where I have found myself again as a professional, struggling yet enjoying, often tired, mostly happy and always blessed to be serving people with my own education in some ways...how the meaning of home has changed over these years, in so many ways and everyday...how my new blue room is both mine and not mine, and this is the way of the world...

Reflections

Yes, I know, I have very wrongly neglected my blog over the past few months. And I feel terrible. This used to be my vent, my confidante, my source of support...and it still is, in many ways. I have just been feeling a dire need to reflect off late. To reflect on my own weaknesses and learn from them.
When I look around me, I find much to be thankful for, much to be inspired by. I look at the accepting love of people, I look at their readiness to welcome and embrace people and their ideas, support and be open-minded. I look at the quiet love they shower on their close ones.
And I used to think that I was becoming more mature with the years. But sometimes, when I reflect on my behaviour, I feel that I have miles to go. I think I have been caught up in a web of instant and constant gratification, a possible result of this "smart" digital age...smart phones and the host of networking and connectiing apps...this has possibly led to an erosion of patience on my end. I feel so bad that I can barely wait for text messages, calls and chats anymore...gone for me are the days when a letter a month could bring feelings of elation to a soul.  And I will change this. I hope to. I would never wish to inadvertently hurt those who i love.
Besides that, I must focus on my life more deeply. I must balance my work and personal life out. I must be deeply grateful to the Higher Being for ALL the blessings. I must look upon every seeming and apparent obstacle/mistake I make as a blessing. I must learn from all the errors I commit. I must begin looking at things from the perspective of others too. I need to be a better human being with every passing minute.

Dear Mrs. Chatterjee

Your indelible memory
Will guide us from afar;
Softly shining always
Like a steady star.

Whenever we'll feel the need,
To anchor our restless lives,
We'll search our souls for memories
Of you, where your Blessing thrives.

Every once in a busy while,
We'll gaze upon the sky,
To remember you by the rainbow
Which chronicles the days gone by.

Often we'll feel disheartened and lost,
Often we'll feel pain...
But those lessons which we can never forget
Will restore and renew us again.

Though our paths will never cross,
We won't ever see your smile,
You'll be locked within our hearts,
To make our lives worth the while.

When Sleep will lead each of us
To the Deep end of the Dark,
Your far away words, your enlightening thoughts
Will blaze up from a spark.

I'm sorry that this poem is far from good,
It emerges from a vacuum within,
But you would have been nice about it nonetheless,
And encouraged me with your grin.

For I wrote poems all along,
Which were mostly far from good.
But the way you listened, so earnest and rapt,
I never quite understood,
How they were really so far from good.

And here I am, Writing again,
By way of a humble tribute,
We bow before your brilliance, your kindness,
Which we'll forever salute.

Title-less

There are days on which I feel an unrelenting anger. When I look around and find much to appall...no, I am not being judgemental...I do my very earnest best to climb into the skins of people and walk around in them, following faithfully Atticus's sound advice. I see much more good, in its many manifestations, than bad. I wait patiently, I try and listen carefully. I look within, and weed out my faults, so as not to let them draw me back...and I am sure there is a lot of scope for improvement in my own personality. My friend told me that I must use this blog to talk about social issues which disturb me...my nature is a cautious one, and I find reason to praise Diplomacy when it borders on sensitivity.
But I have been irked by something, for the longest possible time...gender issues should I call them? Something I used to do with my cousins and freinds, occasionally back at home, would be to laugh over the adverts in the Matrimonial Section of newspapers...some of them were absurdly funny, like one which said that only someone who possessed the beauty of a potential Miss India, need apply, but she had to be 'simple and homely.' This time, when my friend and I tried to resume the same activity, I recoiled and found little reason to laugh...here were people, 'educated' people who were perpetrating the very systems our country has struggled to fight against. "Educated boy seeks fair, {high caste, not getting into naming} wife." "Educated boy seeks very fair, simple and slim wife." "Educated boy wants a fair, tall, non-working, (high caste) wife with matching horoscope. I am not running down Astrology. It is one's prerogative to believe or not believe...but is that one vital, critical basis of forging a match? How come no one describes the kind of personality he/she would be compatible with? How come the first criterion is always caste, colour, vital stats or star signs? I am not undermining the importance, in some ways, of physical attraction. That is an undeniable aspect of a relationship. But I suppose when it is put across like that, in that bald, exclusivist way, it is difficult to read it and not squirm with discomfort.
What happens to girls, (and I am speaking of the ads which the boys/their families have put up,) who do not fit into this stencilled and crayoned idea of beauty. What if a different shade of colour fills their brows and skins? What if they fail to reach the desired, assigned height? What if she is born under an 'inauspicious' (as if) star sign? What if she isn't 'simple?' What does the word mean anyway? Every human being, in her or his own way is complex...we have millions of thought processes competing with one another in our minds...is being 'simple' a reference to being non-manipulative, non-'not-nice?' Or is it someone who is cheerful and joyous? If that is what it means, simple was never a synonym for any of those words.
Or is Simple someone who can be manipulated and cheated, but is too gullible, naive and ingenue-like to respond? I don't know what the term implies, but it disturbs me...what does 'homely?' mean? Home-loving? How many of us are NOT home-loving? I am sure all of us, irrespective of Gender, ache for aspects of our home...and as for house-work, it is something we all must, once again irrespective of gender, pitch in and help out with. There is nothing salubrious about sleeping on an unmade bed, or redeeming about not knowing how to rustle a meal up, or cool about not dusting drawers...it is just the insidious suggestion that we, having being born into the gender we have, should have been born with these skills...no, we have not...we learn, and believe me, we do learn, we need to learn to survive...but why is this so 'gendered?'. Boys should learn as well, they need to maintain their health and hygiene and satiate their hunger for food as well...and as for the caste and complexion fixation...I don't know what to say...I have heard people argue that people from similar 'caste backgrounds' will more comfortable in adapting with one another, and I have actually heard someone say this (groan)...but somewhere along this line of thought, the value of human characateristics get lost...and what of educational backgrounds, (and I mean love of similar subjects, etc) or common interests? ...and we still discriminate against those considered "lower" than us, (and I use the word with much, much sadness, that we still think like this)...that we cannot 'condescend' to scale ourselves down on our constructed heirarchical ladder ...education gets reduced to merely a qualification, a degree which will translate into a job, and this simplistic reduction of a field as rich as knowledge is doen in the name of being practical, pragmatism...we are forcing ourselves into this blatant and obvious state of Myopia...and the value of Universal Feeling gets lost...and as for the complexion bit...some may argue it is an aesthetic choice...but somewhere in the sea of demands for porcelain complexion, the obvious marginalisation occurs...and the media also pitches in, to capitalise on this sick obsession, forcing girls who do not blend into this prescribed palette of colour, to suffer unecessarily from entirely avoidable issues such as low self-esteem and depression...even the most casual of comments in regard to such sensitive aspects can scar a person deeply, or atleast compel someone to feel the need to use skin whitening products...and this compulsion is what is lethal...to say nothing of the eating disorders brought on by the highly unrealistic expectations of body types imposed upon so many of us...what has Education taught us? Oh, heaps of things, Undoubtedly...how much have we progressed, though? How open are our minds? Let us Give people a chance for their own sakes, for Personality's Sake, for human traits' sake...please. It is really, really a shame if we cannot extricate ourselves from the mire of such petty thoughts, if we are caught in the disgraceful cobweb of discrimination, using 'caste, creed and colour' as the essential components of our guiding compass, then we should feel ourse;ves burning with shame of the highest order.
 I mean, Seriously? What is wrong with us?

Suddeness

For the past few days, I have suddenly been engulfed by the feeling that I cannot write...it's not that I have felt that I cannot write well, it's just this feeling of not being able to write at all...it was like one of those nightmares from which one cannot possibly awake...one of those bad dreams which go on and on...and I tried to think of what was going wrong. So I decided to write an anecdotal blog post, which would not involve any syntactical flourishes (not that I have many), and talk about one or two incidents which occurred this December.
One of my closest friends got married. It was nothing short of a fairy-tale ending to a long and sweet romance. But there was another 'fairy-tale' ending waiting for me. This friend and I had had not spoken to one another for almost two years. We had had some juvenile and exceedingly silly fall-out over nothing in particular...and I missed her, a lot. There was another friend who was very close to us as well. After the stupid misunderstanding, all three of us tried to make amends, but somehow the cracks refused to seal themselves...or maybe we couldn't seal them well enough...it was just one misunderstanding upon another, and I presume it left all of us very hurt and sad. It had been a special friendship, you see. University days could not be recalled without the painful jab of recollection, that we had 'parted ways,' to sound dramatic!!
We moved on with our lives, made new friends...and God has been kind, I have never had a dearth of friends...actually, no one ever does...friendship is like one of those precious reservoirs, a plentiful resource...one needs to look around and listen...and anyway, who said things inanimate cannot be friends...books, music, movies, the arts, the Sciences...Nature...everyone of them has seen me through some lonesome spells and hours.
Well, anyway, I digress, so back to my story. After I went back home this time, a lot of my friends called me up and said that this friend of mine wanted to get in touch with me...but I had had no idea that she was getting married. Many thanks to those wonderful friends who got us back in touch, living right up to  playing the benevolent messengers. She had promised me, in those long ago days, that whenever she would get married, I would have to come and attend her wedding, from whichever part of the World I was in.
And then we spoke...and she sent me one of the most touching, honest and wonderful letters I have ever received in my life. I realised when I read it, that I had been waiting for it all along. And all credit to her, for being so warm and pro-active, and re-kindling the old warmth of our connection. I know her husband well...he was and still is like a brother to me, and how wonderful a couple they make...
On the day of her wedding, I couldn't hold back my tears...some will say that I am being sentimental, but Life has taught me to value sentiments...more so on certain occasions...warm hugs, quick snatches of conversation and many pictures later, we were happy...the venue was exceedingly romantic, and my Parents and I sat on a table, on a dreamily decorated roof-top of Tollygunge Club, and partook of the hearty and delicious wedding repast, madde sweeter by the secure knowledge of a snug friendship renewed. To make things even better, I met my favourite professor and one my favourite teachers...in addition to exchanging pleasantries with common friends and familiar acquaintances...
Another incident pained and warmed my soul. I went for the Memorial Service of one of the best and finest teachers the World has ever had...I think this is a profession which commands and deserves respect...and we, who have stepped into this realm, have a lot of ideals to live up to and put into active practice. Adjectives fail m if I have to describe the kind of teacher Mrs. Nonda Chatterjee, Principal, CIS, was. She was brilliant enough to have taught at any University...Calcutta International School was synonymous with her...she taught O and A Level History and Literature, with an ease that belied the daunting nature of teaching...she was equally brilliant at Math. and Geography...and when she would teach us History and Literature, her analogies would range from Chemistry, Physics and also Economics. To her, Knowledge was an inter-related whole. Keats and Tagore were among her favourites, though she could speak eloquently on the subject of just about any writer...she had a broad cosmopolitan outlook, was dedicated to a superlative degree and had travelled many nations, and was full of anecdotes, each one relevant...she shared with us, so generously , so liberally, her views on a multitude of subjects...she remembered us...she connected with us...she made us discerning, critical and mature readers...I fumbled as I spoke at her memorial services, all semblance of eloquence abandoning me, being swept over by wave after wave of strong emotion. May her Soul Rest in Peace.
And then I met old school friends, my cousins, and someone I regard as closely as I would my sister...Aand of course, I was spoiled by the Love of family...Thank God for Love...it keeps the world on its axis, puts things into perspective...and keeps us warm and cozy...

A Symphony of Silence

I have been Silent for a while. A long while. To be honest, I was numbed, numbed and sickened by what happened to a girl, only a little younger than me. I was shocked at the potential danger and violence lurking within human nature. I was sickened to hear of what happened to the poor, poor child. I can only pray. We can all only pray that each of us looks deep within, and that each of us, in our own special way, will try to become a better human being tomorrow, learning from our mistakes of today and yesterday. Because it is only through deep introspection and love of humanity, love for one another, can our society survive.
I have been bursting with a multitude of thoughts of late. But I buried them, buried them deep under the anguish and sorrow the past few days put all of us through, the suffering of an innocent, young, aspiration-filled, dream-filled girl.
Then there was the trip back to Kolkata. The thing about one's home city is that one never has to justify why one loves it. I cannot pin-point specific reasons, though there are many, to be sure. Meeting up with my Family, feeling Familiarity wrap itself tightly around me, like the blankets I used to ward off the Cold at Night, I feeling the gratifyingly scorching warmth of love, feeling the shivers of anticipation which trickled down my spine every time I went out to meet an old friend... I attended a Departmental reunion. I patched up with a dear friend and that was very gratifying. I attended weddings. I attended family reunions. Oh well.