"Life is the price we pay for running away from death "
































































Some movies are made purely to entertain, some to make money, some with a focus on selfish career motives, while some are a burst of creativity. PK could have easily fallen into one of those brackets had it not simmered with an undertone of innocence that struggled with the hunger pangs of an unfinished journey. There are many defining moments in this movie, and all of those fall in the categories mentioned above, save for one -  the moment when innocence asks wisdom, "can you take me home?" This moment is the real reckoning for a filmmaker who is probably more than what he knows about himself.
It was a desolate afternoon. She sat on a pedestal under the tree, and I stood in the sun across the street. She didn't seem to notice me, as she opened the hooks of her blouse. I couldn't help but notice her... doing it. She was preoccupied with the sack resting on her lap; while I was burning, not just due to the hot sun above, but from something within.
This is a personal insight into how man, with his craving for mastery, differentiated himself from rest of the living world, reaching the pinnacle of all God’s creations. Of the two-fold destiny this journey has led into – every unravelled mystery opened doors to newer unknowns and the pursuit seems never-ending; also man’s knowledge grew faster than his maturity and hence the legend of mastery of the world is today a legacy of shameful abuse and misuse. At the end, lies an attempt to provide a direction for ‘course correction’ in the future.
The most important thing to be a great sniper is neither stealth nor accuracy, it is patience. The ones who fall for stealth are the lame ones, actually. And they are so many around, and so shameless and careless that they are just not worth it. The tough targets - the real prized ones - are those that are aware and discerning, that take care not to be seen. It's they who test your patience.
There was chanting in the background, accompanied by an eerie tune that literally smelt of death. I watched the video with a grave grimace and a heart that throbbed one moment and sunk in another. I knew what was coming. It's become kinda usual in terrorist videos nowadays.
A pedestal is as much a prison as any small space
- Gloria Steinem, activist, editor (b. 1934)
"Oh I love her so much," he whispered to himself, as he watched her with his usual calm eyes, "She doesn't leave my sight, not even for a moment in a million years. I never get tired of seeing her face, yet sometimes, some really rare times, I yearn to see what's that she hides behind her."
In the whisper of the wind, I feel your caress;
In the softness of the bed, I feel your touch;
In the warmth of the blanket, I feel your hug.

Pray then, enlighten me please,
Why do I go to a temple looking for you?
"All arrested suspects given clean chit. Blast investigation remains unsolved. Police commissioner says they are pursuing fresh leads"
Ahmed Reshi walked out, stopped on the verandah and glanced over the dusty deserted street in front of the police station. Ahmed's mind was still blanked out; yet unconsciously he stroked his beard - the one thing he had been doing all that month. The words of the prison warden echoed in his ears. "No it was not your name Ahmed beta. It was the beard that they pounced on. You had a beard and you were running - That was it!
Context: A man and woman cross each others' path
"He is your father, Gondu. How can you even think of such a thing, son?" complained Gondu's maternal uncle, "Do you even realize what you are saying? Throw your father out of the house? What the hell! He is the one who nurtured you as a child, and now that you have grown up, you want to throw the old man out?"
The two ladies stood by the overhanging balustrade, watching the other ladies - their friends - in adjacent balconies chewing betel nut, stroking their hairs and beckoning the men in the street below. The overcast grey sky and the grainy mosaic on walls around made it all like the canvas of a documentary movie, and these two ladies were watching it from a balcony seat.
 
"I had so many dreams while growing up" said the younger one, "Marry a nice man from a good family, have kids, setup a house." She wanted to say more but choked, and started sobbing.
Do we really need an environmental ethics?
"That is totally unacceptable mister," she shouted, making everyone turn towards her, "Are you a human being or not? How on Earth can you think of abandoning a child's body like that?"
I saw a boy at a construction site today. He was, as expected, caked in cement dust and carried a banner of unkempt-hood. But there was something painfully unkempt about him.He wore a blank look, was being ordered around - even by the other menial labourers - and did his tasks without any regard for his surroundings or for himself. To make it more unnerving, his teeth were dilapidated and his eye-balls gouged out of the skull like they were seeing no-where and every-where, both at once.
Khan Baba's shop sold the most tender lamb meat in town, and he was determined to uphold that reputation. This morning, just like every other morning, he went into the backyard and surveyed his flock and there in the corner was the best pick - a frail lamb, delivered just a week back, sucking at its blankly staring and bleating mother sheep.
Old man: Looks like this is a disease of the new generation. Why can't you just live happily like us?

It is said the wind and the ocean were friends since the beginning of time. In fact, it is believed that it was their movement that started the lifeblood of time itself.
Yet another morning, jostling for foothold in the crowded bus-stop, amidst the tumultuous roars of furious engines and din of restless horns, I stood, waiting eagerly- an eagerness devoid of hope or enthusiasm- for my usual sweaty ride to the office. I stood there every morning, like clockwork, wondering if my spirit dragged my body or vice versa. I knew I wouldn't find the answer, but just to save my face for myself, my mind would divest itself in "activity" as if to divert me, from myself. The activity, call it perversion or frustration, was, as usual, picking the ladies passing by the road, and ogling at them- staring there where, probably somewhere in their deepest darkest corners, they like to be stared.
How does it feel?
To be an untethered kite,
To be a drifting comet,
To see life's purpose amiss,
How does it feel?
To be down the abyss...
This is not a review, per se, of the movie Gravity but an acknowledgement of the experience that it throws us into. The last time Gravity played its trick, about five centuries ago, it created a revolution that changed the world. An apple fell on Newton and the rest is history. Maybe the apple saw what was in Newton's mind and fell FOR him, and not ON him. Gravity, it seems, has enacted its trick again, and this time it fell UPON Alfonso Cuaron to pick up his pen and, seemingly at least in my case, revolutionize the way we saw the world.