Kai Po Che

This is not going to be a review.

After a long time, i watched a movie where i could see real characters move around the screen.
Its a beautiful movie with very less details from the book. I expected it to be something lesser than the book but to falsify my prejudge-mental mentality, the movie proved to be one which outlives the novel. For people who thought chetan bhagat was a bad novelist, the screenplay written by Pubali Chaudhari, Supratik Sen, Abhishek Kapoor and Chetan Bhagat just makes them go close mouthed.

Actors:

I personally liked Sushant Singh Rajput. Perfect physique and admirable expressions he showed for the young boy was unbelievable. He lived the life in the screen.

Amrita puri, Amit Sadh, Raj Kumar Yadav are equally good but Ishaan played by Sushant steals the show in the end.

Essence: 

Friendship forgives no matter what. Its a life of three friends who had a very calm life until ambition creeps in.

My Name is...

This post is part of The Chennai Bloggers Club's second Tablog titled "Valentine's Day One Post One Scene Relay". Thanks Sowmya for introducing me and you can read her part of the story here. Now lets praise the lord and say "Khuda hafiz!!!"

Sharp rain never knew the gravity of any situation. It just poured whenever it likes to but today the timing was perfect with the sun down and the moon’s rising, And the cold wind blowing hard giving a match to its competitor. 

“Omar bhai… “, voice of young Abdul rose above the rhythm of the rain.

Omar’s eye was filled with tears just like the dark cloud which poured but unlike it, he couldn’t afford to express his weakness. He waited for the tears to dissolve into his one good eye.

“Bhai”, Abdul once gain.

Omar turned towards him with an indifferent face. Abdul knew the saying, “a man is dangerous when you are not able to sense what he thinks inside his head” 

“Our Sweden mission has failed…. Salla that Indian spy had not arrived… Maaf kijiye bhai!!!”

“How many died?” Omar interrupted with an irritated face.

“Nearly 20… ”

“How do you know that he didn’t come?”, Omar questioned.

Abdul scratched his head. He had practiced his answer for quite some time but at that moment he hoped, his courage gave space for his throat to expand.

“Wisam Bhai came there and he told me to leave”

It was months before he last met his savior “Wisam Ahmed Kashmiri”, a pure jihadi. Omar lost his family to the American’s attack but he didn’t lose his trusted friend. He thought he died during the raids. He closed his eyes and swelled, “Allah hu akbar”. With happiness crowding his mind, he didn’t forget to question himself on Wisam’s presence at that spot. He thought he would hold the question unanswered for his bhai.

“Did you destroy the bodies from the warehouse?”

“Ya bhai. We placed the bodies there. No one could identify who are them. They would think it would be some people who came there for dinner…”

“Teek hai”, Omar began to move away into his room. They lived in a very small warehouse. Unlike the one in America, this was used very rarely. Mostly on situations like today. Omar got intelligence report from Munavar, ISI agent, that an Indian spy has tracked him down to Sweden and he thought, he would greet his counterpart with a warm welcome. 

“Wisam is here. He has taken three hostages from the restaurant?”

“Hostages? When did we start doing kidnapper’s work? Ask him to come inside. Don’t come inside”, Omar was angry over Wisam.

Wisam walked into the room with self doubt but Omar, whose anger vanished in thin air, embraced him with a huge hug which he reciprocated. They exchanged greetings over a very small talk. 

“Now tell me, why have you taken hostages?”

“Omar bhai, you would always know. Our brothers were about to execute those three Indians. A girl and two mens but I found out that those bodies alive more than dead would be more profitable”

Omar listened keenly to his words.

“Guru, Varun and Ahalya, these three have ties with people whom we detest the most. Guru’s father is a Lieutenant General in Indian army, Varun’s family runs Rig chemicals – They are the most popular family run business in india next to Tata and Ahalya’s grandfather was a politician with ties. This would help us a lot.”

“Wisam, you never fail to amaze me. So what do you propose?”

“Simple bhai, our job here is done. We need to be in India.”

The rain had stopped and the sky was clear to fly. 

................................................................................

After a few hours, Guru opened his eyes straining his eyelids. It was heavier than he once felt. He couldn’t recollect what had just happened. It took a few more seconds to understand that he had got caught in the middle of a bomb blast. His first impulse was to search for her. She was not there or at least he couldn’t see and then he remembered about Varun. To the contrary to his own belief on life being more important anything else, he felt different. He wanted to die. This bomb was an heavenly intervention, it could be but a failed one too.

“Ahalya…”, He tried to voice but his voice was very much strained.

“mmm”, a moaning came from a bit far. He looked around to make his eyes get accustomed to the darkness and the room he was in. It was a slim room; he was caught in between two walls. He tried to knock on the walls and it sounded metallic. It was some kind of vehicle. He was being carried to some place. 

Confused, he got up and walked further. He stumbled upon something soft.  “Awh…”, a small sound escaped.

I kneeled down and tried to feel it. It was the belly of Varun which he had accidently knocked.

“Varun? Is that you?”, Guru asked with genuine concern.

“No man… it was my grand father. Darn you take your hands off my belly, I feel shy”, Varun blushed and laid back.

“oops sorry man…” 

“mmm”, There was a moaning. It must have been Ahalya. 

“Ahalya???”, He shouted without giving thought about a chance of his captor being around.

“mmmmm mmmmm”

“Ahalya… continue the sound. I will use it to find you”

She made the ‘mmmm’ sound continuously for Guru to find her.

Guru traced his path towards the sound. 

She was lying in the farthest corner of the vehicle. He made her get up and pulled the cloth out of her mouth. 

“Why did the kidnapper stuff a cloth inside your mouth?”

Before he could finish the question, the vehicle stopped and the door slided open and a silhouette of a strong man entered the vehicle.

“Because she never shuts!!!”, he shouted.

…………………………………………………………………………..

The Next part of this story could be seen in Karthik Kamalakannan's blog. Unfortunately i don't know his blog address as he had not updated the document so i will update it once he does that.

 

DEALING OF LOVE

Under the shades of a withered tree ,which shed its left over dry leaves as its tears, stood a couple who didn’t want to be named.

Our hands didn’t touch each other and my feet rooted itself to the ground in fear of losing its stand. There was nervousness in the air which filled the space between us. I struggled a lot to get permission from my mistress to meet him today. I had to be accompanied by my friend when I went out but my friend, she, was kind enough to give me some time with him alone.

I was determined. I had to let him go. I would hate myself for it because I would lose the only hope of life and whatever that was left beyond him was pure horror which was there before he came to me. My eyes were crowded with tears.

His eyes were watery not out of fear or anger but out of his helplessness. He was desperate to change my views.

“What am I? A dream to be forgotten or a wish to be remembered?” His eyes were firm on its target like an arrow, but his voice pleaded in a defeated tone.

I stood there before him, as a tree stood for the sun yet burnt by his rays, like a wind without a direction yet needed a shelter.

I shied away from his scrutinizing eyes but it was not ready to take my femininity for an answer.

“Neither… you are the soul of this cursed living body, who struggles with it every single moment to stay against its own fate.” I gave him the answer which he dreaded to listen but always knew.

His eyes were closed. I knew he was thinking of a way to persuade me to throw away the life I was living, if I would call it a life.

No matter what he told me to change my mind, I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t spoil his life. I was not the person for him to spend his precious life with.

I was the girl who was paid every night to spend with some unknown customer even against my own likings and to satisfy their animal desires. Harsh beatings and cigarette butts were my rewards yet I stayed as I was deep into a bottomless pit. I accepted my fate but my love, he, didn’t. Maybe that was the reason why I loved him so much. He loved me more than myself. What he saw in me was nothing I could ever see in me and so it was a mystery.

“Then why don’t you come with me?” His disbelief was complete in his eyes. The devotion he had was beyond humane. He came closer to me, trying to fill the gap between us, but I took a step back which made him stop. He felt hurt as the girl he loved didn’t want him to touch her.

“Come where? To stay with you? I would never ask something horrible for the person I love.”

I never knew the meaning of love before I met him. A word more pronounced but less felt. It was not the music of the soul. It was not the dance of the hearts. It was not something divine. It was the most humane thing I felt in my life.

It was not like those harsh moments I had with the fellow bodies of the night.

He, a rich son with dignified manners, never entered my house but his eyes, calm and soft, were mine for it stayed over me from the street below. Every day he walked by my street to have a glance at my sad face. He shared a bond with my eyes and we communicated by means of looks and paper bits.

I liked it for the dreams of the poor sorry girl who longed for a loving hug and a sweet kiss on her forehead. I cursed myself for encouraging him by being a victim of my heaved heart.

He spoke the words which burnt my soul alive.

“I would call you every single day as my wife and treat you as the mother of my children. For all I ask is your hand for the taking. Please believe me. For I could sell my soul if I could or thrash my wealth if I would, will that be the price of your fingers intertwined with mine forever?”

My eyes became a pool of tears and his face swan in every single drop.

“I would take your hands, for it could bring the happiness to you but I would not for the guiltiness I would carry inside later on. My love is pure but I am not.”

He didn’t stay a moment to think. He had made up his mind to give up at last. He angrily paced away from me. My heart bled tears inside for I would never see him again.  I hoped I would not.

Before he walked 10 feet away from me, he looked at me and smiled at me. The smile was not the one which started from happiness. It pleaded with me for one last time but I looked away from it. I knew how bad it would have hurted him. He finally left me.

We knew each other for a sweet 6 months. One night I came out of the palace with eyes filled with tears and I was on the verge of killing myself but he walked towards me in that cold night. He didn’t touch my hand but his voice touched the loneliness of my heart.

“Don’t worry. I am there”, His voice assured.

He was a complete stranger but I believed him, because there was no one who would say that words to me. Even I didn’t believe in it myself but I saw him believe in his words. I looked at his face like a child looking at her mother for reassurance.  He smiled at me, soothing warmth spread around me and comforting me. He sat near me the whole night listening to me. He talked about his family and how happy he would if I could join him. I dreamt his dreams. When the night ended and dawn began, I understood I began to fall in love with him. Before he left me that day, he turned towards me and said.

“I love you...” He paused a moment and continued.

“I would see you every single day without fail. I promise you that...”

But today I made him leave me. 

The moment he left me, I felt the loneliness dive deep inside me and play with my heart with his smile. Heart was a tricky place; it always wanted the ones which could never be yours.

I walked back to my mistress’s palace, that was what we called it and we were called as the dolls. Dolls lacked the power to talk or to hope. I was just there like an unanimated object unlike him who flared with life. We were two different individuals. 

A day before, I was allowed to go out for a walk after a week’s torture by my mistress who owned the place I worked.  I saw him walk with his mother, father and his younger sister. He had told me about his family and how beautiful they were but it was the first time I saw them. A week before, we, myself and him, had planned to elope from the palace but when I saw those innocent eyes of his parents and the smile he had when he was with them made me rethink our stupid decision. I was scared as my last resort would be destroyed by my presence. 

I was not the one for him. He deserved someone better...

I could never make him understand it so I knew better to not give any solid reason for breaking up our relation. His heart would start questioning what went wrong and grieve for me a few days and maybe after a month he would have started hating me and finally forget me.

I wept the whole night and turned down anyone’s company. My mistress would definitely award me with a few slaps the next day but I didn’t care.

The next day evening I wondered how he spent a day without me.  I wiped my tears which formed and went back to my routine.

I cleaned my room and made my bed as it was important in my profession. On the side of the bed was lying today’s newspaper. I took the spread eagled paper from the floor. One of the papers slipped down and when I tried to pick it, I saw it, my heart burst into million pieces.

There was the photo of him...

“Young boy from a rich family fells out of train and gets killed...”

I gasped and fell back in disbelief and horror. My eyes froze and limps forgot to move. I miscalculated his love for me. I only wanted him to be happy and it was without me but he didn’t understand it. I couldn’t cry as my voice betrayed myself. His eyes and his smile flashed before my eyes. 

I didn’t want this to happen for him... I wanted him to be happy...

My mind chanted this mantra continuously and there was no tears in my eyes. I was stupefied by the news.

Night time came and my mistress sent in today’s customers. I was there just like a table or chair without showing any reaction towards anyone.  Morning came and my senses came back to me. I looked at the mirror in my table. My plain reflection starred at me. 

I should have known by the ways of love in my heart that he would never miss my sight if he had been on earth breathing but I didn’t.

My tears flowed once I realised it.  

Uncertainty was the curse of love with all it could give, it asked itself to be its price. That was the dealing of love. Such a beautiful relationship killed by my stupidity. 

I knew I would not live another day in this earth which could not keep my love.

…………….

What CHENNAI means to me???

"This post is a part of an initiative by Chennai Bloggers’ Club; a Facebook community for like-minded bloggers. Around 30+ bloggers are writing about, What Chennai Means to Them. This tag was before taken up by Vinod Velayudhan, who writes at on constructive criticism for chennai."

What chennai means to me?

This is a question which i never asked myself before but now that it's before me, let me think. Chennai

had been part of me for the past 6 years.

6 years ago, What it meant to me?

Being brought up in a small town near kanyakumari and living half my life in interior south where we were used to knowing almost everyone in the city by their first name, my dad took the descision of moving to singara chennai for the benefits of higher education. I left all the things which defined me to create a new living in a new city,like a spy who gave up his former life for the greater good. My perceptions then was chennai was the city of the road side romeos and waterless pipes which i grasped from the 80's movies and a few 90's too :P

I was scared like hell that day when we made the transition. And the day i joined my college near kelambakkam, it just got confirmed. I was standing in a desert. I thought Tamilnadu doesn't have a desert but it did and that was called as Egattur. Concentrated Sun light flared at me and i shied away from it. We stayed in a house(bungalow - you get a lot for 5k in the outskirts) nearby my college and that made my habitat a desert. And later, after a week, i found out, i was living in kancheepuram and not in chennai. Most of my friends were from coming from chennai proper so they compelled me to move inside the city. At that moment, I found chennai to be the green beyond the waters.

Important places:
Kelambakkam Lending library
Kamal Stores, Adyar
Sathyam & Devi Theater

4 years ago, What Chennai meant to me?

Malls, Cinemas and Bike rides. That was Chennai was for me. It was the place i found to spread my wings. College Gang fights and Gang hugs, that didn't sound so anarchy at that time because we knew anything and everything would mend in this wonderful city. City forgot enemies quickly and remembered friends forever.

Fast moving yet so slow in pushing you to its pace. It allowed geeks to be geeks and machos to be one and for some people like me, it was a perfect mix of fun and pain. Had my first crush here and had my first love in here. Chennai saw what it was meant to be me and likewise from my side.

Important places:

Mayajaal was getting popular with us at that time... don't remember why :)

2 years ago, What Chennai meant to me?

Became a chennaite by both blood with the attitude and skin with tanning. Streets were measured with my walks and my bike's skids. Loved the way the police reacted and later received their bribe. Chennai was nothing different from any other city but the beach, temples(which i rarely visited), museum, library and Mahabhalipuram(its near chennai :P that's what they told me, when they admitted me in my college), and don't forget we got the Anna University and IIT Madras made it stand unique. Never missed a Saarang before this year.

Important places:
Dindugal Thalapakati biriyani shops :P

Now, What Chennai means to me?

Chennai was a city which mixed the good and bad and instilled a mix which tasted better than the sweetest jigar thanda :)

Matured enough to call it a city (it was a town for us :P ) but it still was measured by me with my friends during my college like a village. Proximity never mattered in this city. Here you might be near and far and you could be far but closer than the pillow next to you.

Its close to my heart, wherever i go or stay, no other place would see the real me. With all the emotions it created in my heart, this is and will be the city i ll spend my last breath for.

I wrote what Chennai means to me. Now i am handing over the post to Ramaa Iyer - a displaced Chennaite blogging from Bangalore

Read her posts @  http://ramaaiyer.blogspot.in