Cookie Box For Thread and Needles

Just another day, a regular day. I am binge watching "Friends", all ten seasons of it, just to prepare myself for the "Friends Reunion". Beside me, he is ‘working’, apparently this is the new normal. He is completely immersed in his client calls and tally numbers, doesn’t even spare a second to lift up his head to see what’s happening around. I wonder whether what all those people who once advocated the ‘dignity of labour’ had to say about this new work-style, about the modern slaves.

 

Hm.. with a mellow sigh I look at him hoping to catch his attention. No, his eyes are firmly fixed onto the screen. Unable to resist myself from adoring him, I caress his hair. What’s that Portuguese word? Oh yes, cafuné... right! I see his moustache and beard pulled up as he quietly smiles. I run my slender fingers through his hair, and in a second, the smooth run is disturbed by a strand of thread. I try to look for the thread, but he is becoming agitated. I take my hands off, and wait for him to pool in all his focus on his work. Within minutes, he’s back tallying his numbers on screen, and I run my fingers again to catch that thread. I find it and I pull it up, what I see is not a thread from his cardigan nor from my skirt, this thread is from a different fabric. As I continue to pull the thread, he is disturbed again. This time, I move closer to him, and as I pull some more of the thread, I bite it off from the longer strand before he notices or gets irritated. Running into the kitchen, I quickly roll the thread piece and hide it in my Malibu cookie box, which is now my new tin box of secret artifacts! I ask him nothing about it, and he too seems to have nothing on his mind to share. We retire for the day.

 

The next day too begins as just another day, and the two us go about with our work. I free myself this evening and catch up on "Moby Dick". Melville’s novel is pretty big, I had only read the illustrated and abridged versions up until now. This time, I bought the original novel, and made it a point to read it through no matter how long it would take me to finish the book. I just finished ‘Chapter 45’, and by now I have picked up a few words of the seamen’s diction and a point or two about whales, particularly the sperm whales. Before I begin reading the next chapter, he comes and sits near me, with his head on my lap and flips the channel. Today, even before I could run my fingers through his hair, I found the thread sticking out. Like the previous day, I start pulling this thread again, this time the length exceeds than the previous cut. I carefully hide it from him and take it into the kitchen to store it in my precious little cookie box.

 

Days pass, and my cookie box slowly fills up with the several strands of thread that I cut every day. First, his hair comes unwinding, then his forehead, his eyes and ears, nose and lips, every part loosens up into colours of flesh pink, red, brown and black. I continue to pull the thread, and his arms come down, soon his legs too unwind. The last pull, the last strand of thread, the last toe, he is now thread strands. For the next few days, I ponder over what to do with these strands that sleep in my cookie box. I think, I think hard, and then I decide. I take out my spinning needles, connect all those thread strands and let my mind work through my hands. I am unaware of what shape the new knitting is going to take, but I relentlessly knit.

 

Before my eyes, the leaves are first ones to take the shape, and then with the shade of brown, I make the branches which then twines up with the trunk. The new shape is finally ready, and I place this one along with other trees. I hear some murmurs, perhaps the new pattern doesn’t look one bit similar to that of the older counterparts. They gossip! I sense that the new pattern is going to encounter some troubles when alone. Without thinking too much, I leave the pattern and the rest of the crew. As I take a few steps away from them, I hear rustling noise, I look back and I see that the new pattern has already shed a few leaves, and the other trees have come closer to the new member. Unable to perceive the situation, I simply leave them.

 

The next day, I come out to see the new member. It appears as if there is no life in it though it is standing still. I do not comprehend this and not wanting to spare much thought on this, I turn back. I hear the noise again. This time, I choose not to look. The noise grows. I simply ignore and go inside. As the days go by, the new member is no longer new, and the rustling sound has also receded. But sometimes, I hear them whisper my name.

The Bad Bitch Bodega Cat

 

Have you ever thought of being a bodega cat?

A bad bitch bodega cat?

Lurking around the corner shops,

Waiting for a piece of meat to be thrown away.

Yes, that’s the one –

She bleeds boxer Ali through her chest,

While her brain reeks of Bobby Fischer,

This bad bitch is wearing my hijab

And scaring a many tom cats in her daily wars –

I want to be like her,

Just a bad bitch bodega cat,

Strutting through these boroughs

As a hooded figure, I meekly pass –

But the bodega cat isn’t one like me,

She hisses, and purrs,

And fiercely coughs up a hairball

Swearing and threatening the other cats,

Not just toms but bitches too –

No one dares to challenge her,

She beats the hell out of those oglers

Those who grope daughters –

Like cowards in crowded streets,

The bodega cat sharpens her claws with abuses,

With humiliation and lewd comments,

And blood.

She ushers me to wear my hijab,

A hijab of bad bitch

And walk on stilts, tall and brave –

Giving no two,

To the ones who are trampled below.

Mandela

 

“Mandela”, a light-hearted but very well-thought story. It strongly yet in its own comical way captures the significance of ‘one-vote’. If today's world is on a quest for seeking its identity, this movie begins with the very notion of an identity-less situation. As much as I enjoyed the movie, I couldn't help but to realise most of the meanings that were embedded deeply. Set in a village in Tamil Nadu, the movie collects around a prominent family's personal rift to making it a caste issue overtly. The outright hatred that is deep seated in 'caste' is aptly picturised and at the same time, its hypocrisy comes upfront as a caution. The transition in the name caught my complete attention - 'Smile' to 'Mandela', more like an 'identity-less' (but still happy) to 'identity' (the root cause of all other problems) - I find it a clever play with the names. One could imagine all the significance a name like Mandela could hold. Our people need more movies like this.

Will Justice be Served?

 

Two movies that I wish to talk about: "Act-1978" [Kannada] and "Naandhi" [Telugu].

 

 

"Act-1978" is a yesteryear's release that made it to the theatre screens post the Covid-lockdown. Starring Yagna Shetty in the lead, this movie is a well-scripted diatribe against corruption that mirrors the chain-link consequences of every individual's negligence in executing their respective duties. While the storyline appears to have already been in the niche, it still provides an outlet for great experimentation. A justice seeking individual is forced to becoming an outlaw is nothing new to the Indian cinema, however, the suspense and the make of character-roles have a tinge of newness. The attention-arresting cinematography, much expanded suspense, and very minimal yet effective locations throughout are some of the elements that deserve appreciation. The actors too, some already established, some amateurs and some entrants, all have performed their roles in the most convincing manner.

 

If the former movie boarders on the protagonist becoming an outlaw, then the latter movie is an exact opposite of fighting for justice within the circles of law and order. "Naandhi" is this year's release starring Allari Naresh in the lead. A blend of lock-up atrocities and courtroom drama, this movie has presented a sort of a naked truth about the legal system. I have always seen Allari Naresh as a comic artist and even if he is in the lead, the scripts are often comical. This movie has reversed the perception of how Naresh is portrayed. As much as a thinker a script can be, it still must work to cater to the masses, and there is drama and action to tick these parameters. Though the storyline is not extremely unfamiliar, what is important to note is that the protagonist alone doesn’t take the limelight, and every character is equally highlighted (this is something that often becomes a wanting factor in many films.

 

Both the movies made me tear up a little, and they held my attention throughout. While these movies have drawn references from world cinema, they still stand as individual accomplishments. This was about the structure of the movies, I now like to press on the issue of the much emerging theme of the inability of the government and its various systems. The protagonists here are no extraordinary heroes, rather a result of a failed government system. It in a way makes me question the legitimacy of such system, and thereby its extending laws (which for some reason imposes thoroughly on the voiceless). I am not saying that my mind is befuddled with fiction and reality, instead what I emphasize is simply that our reality is no different than fiction. That these protagonists are not only an image of a modern man/woman but also a modern image of a man/woman.

 

OTT Platforms:

"Act-1978" - Amazon Prime

"Naandhi" - Aha

Snape kind-a love!

We have all enjoyed the Harry Potter fiction, be it the books or movies, and for those of us who are huge fans of this franchise, it is certain that we have all ended up having a soft corner for Prof. Snape, some of us have even ended up liking this character more than the leads or Dumbledore. Here is February, with the Valentine hearts making its stamp everywhere, we see some enjoying the fervour, and some trying to ignore it, while some unfortunate few craving for that little zing of romance to happen. Perhaps these lines too are written by someone who is a little swayed by the Valentine's Day fever. Though I can think of many blissful and everlasting romances and love tales, it is Severus Snape's yearning for Lily that snapped atop my mind.

 

[Snape] stood up. "You have used me."

"Meaning?"

"I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter-"

"But this is touching, Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

"For him?" shouted Snape. "Expecto Patronum!"

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe: she landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

"After all this time?"

"Always," said Snape.

(Deathly Hallows, Chapter 33, The Prince's Tale)

 

Just take a moment to analyse this character - throughout the series, Snape is portrayed as a toughened man, and he even received a lot of spite when he charged Dumbledore. But in the end, he takes away my breath by saying that single word, "Always". Narratives such as these truly make fiction a whole lot better than real. A man in tears, down to his knees, sworn to protect his beloved's child, and never lets go of his fondness for Lily even after all those years is a character worth loving! The weight that a simple "always" can carry is enormous, and the narrative compels you to think about the word and the commitment it entails.