What Dreams May Come: love and togetherness

(Talking movies, differently #5)
(Contains spoilers)

‘If you’re happy in a dream, Ammu, does it count?’ Estha asked.
‘Does what count?’
‘The happiness- does it count?’
She knew exactly what he meant.
Because the truth is, that only what counts counts.

If you eat a fish in the dream, does it count? Does it mean you’ve eaten fish?
The cheerful man without footprints- did he count?

God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy

A promise well-kept could mean a kind of heaven, and a whirlpool of nothingness can stand for a kind of hell. What amazes me about What Dreams May Come is that it doesn’t use symbolism to convey hardships in love; rather it uses the medium of imagination to explore a beautiful relationship between Annie and Chris, a kind of love that stays beyond what constitutes a kind of reality.

Read more here-


Of Bombay and Wake up Sid

(Talking movies, differently #2)
(Contains spoilers)

Ten years ago when I had watched Wake up Sid, I was a child with hopes and aspirations and dreams to hold on to. At that time this movie was all about growing up and living the life of my dreams just like Aisha. The scary proposition of moving to a new city and building your life there moment by moment was exciting to me, also the independence that came along with it. The movie doesn’t focus entirely on the hardships that the Bombay city presses on you once you choose to live and make a life in this city and so then the child in me aspired for how Aisha lived and what she had.

Sid: Aisha, tum Bombay kyun aayi ho?
Aisha: Independent banne…I’ve lived all my life in Calcutta. Apni life ko ek nayi direction dena chahti thi toh Bombay chali aayi!’

Ten years later, today, I have come a long way- I pursued my graduation in Bombay, explored myself as a writer and then moved to Ahmedabad for my post graduation in English literature. Where my life was drawing parallels with Aisha’s in my years in Bombay and the independence of living I had a chance to experience in Ahmedabad, my post education time and my cluelessness today to find a purpose in life slowly drags me to relate more with Sidhharth’s character these days. In all these years my life has changed and so has the dynamism of characters crafted in the movie for me. Maybe that’s what it means when an art grows with time.

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The twinklings linger in my sleep, I dream of chocolate rivers.
I leave the Christmas night unbolted and believe that Santa would meet me. That Santa would come.
That there is Santa.
My eyes would burn with sleep and I’ll wait anxiously for Santa to come.
The deep blue sky will walk with me wherever I go. In the night time the moon will follow me wherever I go.
I dream of the rain whispering to me, leaving me with messages of wet lands- green, deep and misty.
I leave messages of my own, in the outer space via my inner space, and hope and hope and I sincerely hope that they would conjoin with their bearers- wholly, fully, completely.
I have carved these places inside myself where beauty is ever evolving and hope immensely freeing;
where warmth forever dwells and love never eludes, never sourly swells.
I sit drinking from chocolate rivers, I wait for Santa too.
I seek the rain to talk to me and I hope my self-talk reaches places, people too.
The child in me still dreams of unicorns, it is bored of mathematical classrooms.
It peeps outside the transparent window, it dances with the clouds,
it chuckles in its imaginations with unicorns prancing about.
An angry voice curtly shouts,
“What are you dreaming about?”
I turn my eyes to the blackboard unwillingly, secretly still dreaming aloud.
I do not know what happened to that child, where he went all this time. He’s gone I feel,
away from me,
away from chocolate rivers,
away from Santa dreams.
I think of unicorns very rarely now. I’m so sure they’re not there.
Yet looking up into the deep, blue, cloudy sky makes me feel
what if they are?