The Hills Have Eyes

A motley group of family and friends come together for a holiday.

Typical of a Bengali family, it is noisy and centres around food. 

The film begins with death, keeping the identity a surprise, it then starts at the beginning when there is so much life.

A family holiday in a small isolated hill town, set in the ‘70s.

A man bullied, his virtues of manhood questioned.

The only one who is innocent, sensitive and vulnerable. The rest take him for granted, bullying him at every opportunity they get. 

His torment is visible and his helplessness painful.

There is talk of ghosts and death. He is needled and used by the rest of the gathering. 

There is a quiet anger and shame simmering within, beautifully portrayed in silence by Vikrant Massey. 

It is obvious he is the outsider, he wants to belong,  It is only in the sweater he finds his belonging. With the dead. 

The underlying calmness during tense situations, suddenly becoming a show of power, the brooding Kalki Koechlin watching, taking what she wants, leaving behind a sense of doom for Shuntu. The young Tani, his only companion, knowing what he goes through, but too young to be taken seriously. 

The loud humour always there, comes too soon, brash to diffuse the tension and move away fast from impending danger. 

The movie is slow, it is not for the Bollywood song and dance viewers, it talks through its silence. 

The quiet glance, the all seeing eyes through screens and windows, the graveyard, the association with death, even while living, the 23 year old outcast who is more at ease with the 7 year old than with the adults around him. 

The need to conform, but happier being a distant observer.

It is about failure and the inability to accept it, there is love at times, his aunt’s affection the only real thing.  

You wait for death, will it be suicide or murder......

Though everything in the film is a build-up towards its undeserved tragic climax, but when it does finally unfold, it leaves you jarred just the same. 

People are blinded by their egos and pride, their lust and greed, their masculinity and femininity.

Only the hills have eyes.

"A Death in the Gunj" by Konkona Sen Sharma

Story of My Life

Situations are changing, nothing can be taken for granted anymore.

My life right now is in turmoil, there is uncertainty ahead of me, decisions which have been forced on me. 

When my opinions do not matter and  remain stuck in my throat and cause anger to pulsate in every nerve of my body. 

I run to allow the anger to flow out of my body, signing up for a virtual challenge has helped me focus and stay sane. 

The questions I ask myself: am I right in feeling this emotion, am I being unreasonable or expecting too much?

We look for events to be grateful for, since a heart filled with gratitude, overlooks the pain. 

I dig into my past, I recollect sad, painful failures, disappointments and what helped me get through each such event.

I recollect happy occasions, trips in the past with friends, memories created with family. 

How did I get through those phases to create better moments for myself, what kind of reserve did I have in me to accept the situation and bounce back?

I talk to friends, I realise they all have a past and a present and even with the uncertainty they still look towards the future.

How each of us cope, lies within us and we all have a story to tell.

Right from the school friend whose dad died when she was young and was brought up by a single mother, she sees God in her mom.

To the college friend whose mom suffered a cancer and died during a crucial stage in her life, she grew up with her dad, learning to take care of themselves and then seeing her dad suffering a stroke, she took care of him, teaching herself how to meet his changing needs. 

To the friend who died suddenly and let her young daughters speak a story of resilience.

I learn from my personal story, seek support from others through their stories. 

The key to resilience lies in picking up the relevant bits, piecing them together and creating new life stories for ourselves. 

It matters how we write the story, do we wallow in the negativity and bitterness or look at the outcomes and the path taken to get there. 

This helps us live a life of gratitude and strength. 

I remember many years ago, while my friends and I did the Mumbai Oxfam trail walker. 

The trail was slippery, the climb steep, the path narrow with sharp rocks and overgrown bushes. Nothing during our training had prepared us for this mentally or physically.

We slipped, we sighed, we cried, laughed, pushed ahead through the pain, not knowing if or when the path would improve. 

It did and we celebrated the simple joy of facing the challenge, not giving up, surviving it to tell our story. 

Being cheerful and optimistic always is not the best way to deal with life. Face the problems, experience the painful emotions, cope with the grief, remember to be kind to yourself at each stage.

Choose the story you want to live, live the story you want the world to see. 

Your story makes me bounce back, inspires me to look ahead. 

My story can change your life someday.

Speak, Listen......

Cleveland Rocks

I lived 30 minutes away from Shaker Heights, OH. It was the place we went to when we wanted to look at Halloween themed lawns, well decorated Christmas homes, perfection.

So reading the book set in such a perfect familiar location was a must.

I knew the basic storyline, I try and avoid reading in depth reviews and spoilers before I read a book much raved about. 

It is about the perfect Richardson family with the perfect settled in home and the imperfect Warrens with their hand me downs, nomadic life. 

How both their lives merge and integrate. 

How the children Lexie, Trip, Moody and Izzie warm up to Pearl and Mia, 

How hearts expand, homes expand to take on more than its capable of. 

How societal pressures makes us all puppets getting entangled in the hanging threads which are our lives.

 How privileges win over righteous.

How one person’s judgements colour morality and virtuousness.

 How sex changes everything, not just with the two of you but everyone around you.

This is a powerful story in a very silent form. We crave for love in the most unexpected places. The routine, the given are luxuries even for the one’s who seem to have it all. 

The  author delves into the mysteries of relationships, why it always seems that the other has it better. About motherhood, the bond. 

Not necessarily finding the love in your own but seeking it in people shunned by society. 

How secrets, misunderstandings and miscommunication can cause so much damage.

Why we need to care, the lives we touch and change because of love. 

“It came, over and over, down to this: What made someone a mother? Was it biology alone, or was it love?”

The book focuses more on the plot and getting there, rather than building characters of the children to justify their action. 

They are spoilt and have always got what they wanted. Except for one. 

The beginning is the ending and the story is more of a build up towards the conclusion justifying the act.

I would like to watch the TV series to see how they could recreate the passion which like fire can burn a house down.

As things are going out of my control in my life right now, I feel this is what resonates with me most. No, I would not burn my house down, but would like to start over. 

“Sometimes you need to scorch everything to the ground and start over. After the burning the soil is richer, and new things can grow. People are like that, too. They start over. They find a way.”

Celeste Ng- Little Fires Everywhere

A Promise Kept

Words can move you, words have the power to transform your life,

Words can take you places within and outside.

This one book made me cry. 

The tears rolled down my cheek as I read. I could not stop, I finished 380 pages in half a day. I had to be part of the journey. 

So well does this author weave magic into her books. 

I read one of her books ( The Nightingale) early this year and wanted to explore more of her writing, but delayed buying anymore books due to the lockdown and need to check my spendings. 

When I realised the lockdown was not going to ease, I needed solace, I an ardent paperback lover, turned digital.

It took a while to get used to, but the love for reading converted me quickly. 

This book is not my life, it is nothing related to my experiences.

Yet I could feel the loss and need to belong in the main characters.

It deals with friendship, teenage years, the carefree lives, the age my daughters are at right now.

Maybe I do see a little bit of them in the characters, that is why I cried so much or maybe I wish they had that life as shown in the lives of the characters and that is why the aching. 

Or maybe my fragile mind can't take so much of emotional drama.

It is about love, loss, fear, retribution, guilt.  Sacrifice, second chances. Abandonment, Forgiveness. Mortality and living while dead inside. 

It is a rollercoaster ride  and emotional marathon. It drains you, every word wrings your heart, you don’t stop, you go on, you finish and then when you finish you are left in a state of shock but content. Her writing is so heartfelt, you know this is not a real life account, yet you believe it could be true.  

The characters come to life with her writing, the emotions are not just words but experience you go through. 

" Maybe time did not heal wounds exactly, but it gave you a kind of armor or a new perspective. A way to remember with a smile instead of a sob"

Its about love yes, a mother’s fierce love, which sometimes seems overbearing, a child’s easy going take everything for granted love, a father’s caring seemingly distant love. The mystery and excitement of first love. Love between friends, powerful, all consuming, 

The relationships so real.  I was left remembering first loves, curfews, strict parenting. 

The ending came too soon, forgiveness takes time for me, sometimes I fool myself into thinking I have accepted and moved on.
So when the storyline changed into a more forgiving and giving nature, I felt the author is trying to tell me something and that made me cry even more.

This is one book which will remain etched in me forever, I have not shed so much tears over mere words in a long time. 

"People think love is an act of faith", her mother said. " Sometimes it's an act of will"

Kristin Hannah- Night Road