Monday, March 15, 2010

Photo of the Week - Awla

Awla1

Awla2

Photographs by Kadambini Panse

New leaves and blossoms on the Awla tree (Indian Gooseberry). It is a wonderful, stately tree.  Very useful from the dietary and medicinal point of view too.  Here are some of the things we do with the Awla fruit -

  • Make sarbat (juice).
  • Make loncha (pickle).
  • Make morawla (jam).
  • Make chutney.
  • Make supari.
  • Add to shikakai (for hair shampooing).
  • Make triphala churna (ayurvedic medicine).

When the tree was a lot smaller, a chum of mine caught his ear on one of its branches and he bled a lot. I don't know why I'm mentioning it, except I just remembered how fascinated we were with the bright red blood and how hard he tried, fueled by our fascination, to not burst into tears.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Movie Review - Revolutionary Road

Couplea1

When I first heard of Revolutionary Road, I assumed it was a movie about revolution in Cuba or a South American country. I always keep making these sort of assumptions. I once misheard 'A Ballad of a Solider' as 'A Ballet of a Soldier' and I kept waiting hopefully and in vain as the movie progressed, thinking, okay, so now here's where he will get up on his toes and dance.... But to get back to the movie at hand, no such thing, it is based on the novel by Richard Yates and gives us an up close look at 'suburban angst'. A very curious term. I mean I never heard a movie about slums or inner cities described as 'slum angst' and 'inner city angst'. Has anyone used those terms in those contexts? Anyway, the title is a deliberate misnomer. It is the story of a couple who live on Revolutionary Road, dream of leading a revolutionary existence, and, in the end, don't.

Did I like it? Yes and no. It was easy to admire the direction and the acting . It was hard to decide whether to sympathize with the characters or to get impatient with them.

For here you have a young, attractive and healthy couple, Frank (Leonardo DiCaprio) and April (Kate Winslet), who married for love, have a couple of children, have no serious money problems and have a nice suburban house near the woods. And under this happy facade they are struggling with deep discontent at the way their lives have turned out. They wanted a different, exciting and more meaningful existence, not this daily humdrum grind.

April is an unsuccessful actress and is increasingly frustrated at being slotted into the typical, suburban housewife role - make meals, take care of the kids, take the trash out, socialize with smug, boring people who are so content with their smug, boring lives you want to scream. She craves for excitement, for something more meaningful, for something that will make her feel alive.

Frank too wanted a 'different' life, had in fact sworn never to be tied up in a dull job like his father. Now here he is, following his father's footsteps more or less exactly, commuting daily to work at the same firm where his father once worked. He's bored out of his skull with his office job in the city and has embarked on an affair with one of the secretaries to relieve the tedium. He and April take out their frustrations and disappointments on each other and quarrel frequently.

Then, on Frank's thirtieth birthday, April surprises him with her grand plan for overhauling their lives. She wants them to sell up and move to Paris. They have enough savings to last them six months, she will supplement that by getting a secretarial job at an embassy, and he can take the time to think about what he really wants to do in life. She talks Frank into agreeing with the idea, and they both get caught up in the thrill of moving to foreign shores. Their relationship dramatically improves, they make travel arrangements, start packing and inform all their friends and acquaintances of the impending move. Their friends are amazed and clearly envious, and tell them they are being 'unpractical'; only one, a Mathematician fellow with mental problems, cheers them on.

The dream ends when April becomes pregnant and Frank is offered a lucrative and interesting job in computers. He is infuriated by her talk of getting an abortion, and can't bring himself to turn down the job offer. He decides they are not to go after all, and she takes it very hard. Their relationship deteriorates and the film eventually ends in a tragedy.

                                                --------------

Of the two, Frank was easier to like. He didn't come across as the brightest bulb on the electric circuit and he was cheating on his wife, but he was less neurotic and less self-deluding than her. It did occur to him that they could be happy right where they were, it was not absolutely essential to uproot and head for Paris to find happiness and fulfillment.

But April, oh April, she had her head stuffed with the romantic taradiddle of all the expatriates that made Paris their mecca (and who made poverty and ill-health and Parisian rudeness seem like must-have experiences for everybody). She reminded me of the many foreign backpackers that come to India in search of spirituality and salvation, and then get their high hopes dashed on the gory realities of human materialism. The 'magic' of Paris would have faded for April once she got there, she would have seen that the people there were just like people everywhere after all, and she would have reverted back to being neurotic again. And yearned next for Timbuctoo, perhaps. She didn't strike me as a woman who would be happy anywhere.

But then again, I thought, why am I being so hard on her, what would be so wrong if she did yearn for Timbuctoo next? Why not go there next and then on again and keep on going? Life is supposed to be a journey, right? So why not pack in some actual traveling if that's what your restless soul hankers for? Well, why not? If that's what you long for, why not give it a try at least? It's a sadder thing to want something real bad and never even attempt it, than to be disillusioned by it afterwards.

Why should April 'settle' for her dull suburban existence? Why should she go on being 'realistic' and 'practical' as defined by someone else? It clearly didn't suit her, and perhaps it would have made a real positive difference in her life if they had upped and gone to Paris. She might have met more kindred spirits and, as we all know, kindred spirits do make life seem brighter and more interesting. She might have been reminded how wonderful it is to just be alive.

She mightn't have set the world ablaze or anything of the sort, but as old Marlon Brando said in another sad film, she might have been a contender at least.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

WIFI - Richard Dawkins Lecture at UC Berkeley



Excellent and entertaining lecture by Professor Richard Dawkins on his book 'The God Delusion' during his US Tour, delivered on 8 March 2008, Saturday, at Wheeler Auditorium on the UC Berkeley campus.

Estoy enferma - but I'm full of illustration ideas

20 Feb 2010 - RoughIllustrationIdeas

I had to go see the doctor the other day, and I did these thumbnails in the waiting room. I'm revamping my illustration portfolio on Maysun In C, and these are going to be the additions in the Animals and Birds section.

Visiting the doctor, never the most joyous of occasions, has turned into a conveyor belt experience. First, you wait in the waiting room and when the receptionist has the time she will summon you to get your weight taken on a very ancient weighing machine that I've never quite got the hang of -  you stand on it and the receptionist pushes the weighs around and announces her finding in a loud voice so everyone in the reception area knows how much you weigh. Once she made a mistake when weighing me and announced a figure that was twice the correct one and everyone in the room exclaimed, "It can't be! She looks far too skinny!"

After you've been weighed,  you go back to waiting until the receptionist says it's your turn to go down to the basement. You go down and wait until the assistant doctor is ready to check your blood-pressure, pulse and temperature. Then you wait some more, exchanging sympathetic looks with the other patients and trying not to get sucked into an exchange of ailment details, and then finally the doctor will see you.

He is a very nice man though. Worth all the waiting. Have known him for ages.

                                                              ----

Speaking of doctors, I remember the one I visited when I was an art student in Bombay. I had an ear-ache and my land-lady in Dadar suggested a neighborhood doctor. He's brilliant, she said, I always take my kid there. So I followed directions to his clinic and found the front door bedecked with mango leaves and marigolds.  There was a quite a crowd inside in the waiting room.  Quite a festive atmosphere. 

I sat down and wondered if it was some sort of celebration. You never know in India. There's something to celebrate practically every day. I asked the fellow next to me and he shrugged and said he didn't know. Then a man looked out from the doorway to the inner room and beckoned and said, "Alright, everyone, come inside."

And everyone rose and went into the inner room. Soon I was the only one left outside. So I got up and went in too. They were all standing in a semi-circle around the doctor's desk, and he was asking each person in turn, "What's wrong with you? And you? And you?"

As I happened to be the nearest to him in the semi-circle, my turn came almost immediately. I told him about my ear. He had a look and said, "Hmmm!" and sent me out to the compounder.

The compounder was in a small cubicle, with two large glass beakers in front of him, one containing a red liquid and the other containing a yellow liquid. He was page deep in a film magazine and not pleased to be disturbed.

"Alright," he said in a bored, irritable voice. "So where's the bottle?"

I said, "What bottle?"

He  made an annoyed sound and said,  as if talking to a half-wit, "Don't you know anything? You need to bring a bottle along when you visit the doctor. I'll give you one now, but don't forget the next time."

With an eloquent sigh - oh, the fools I have to put up with! - he rose and extracted an amber-colored bottle from a bottom shelf. Then he scooped out a measure each of the red and yellow liquids from the beakers before him and poured them, one after the other, into the bottle. He screwed on the cap and thrust the bottle at me.

"Here!" he snapped. "Put it inside thrice a day!"

"Put it inside? I put this in my ear?"

"For crying out loud! In your mouth!"

As I went away I saw he was ladling the same liquid in the same proportion to the next patient as well.

When I got back to my lodging, the land-lady said, "Yes, he always gives my kid that liquid too. Sorry I forgot to tell you to take a bottle with you."

I said, "How can he give everyone the same medicine?"

"It must work," she said. "Everyone keeps going back to him."

After she went away, I poured the liquid down the drain. I recovered the next day.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Drawing - Musicians

4 March - Music
Making beautiful music.  And that reminds me I need to tune my violin.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Illustration - A Nice Rosie Lea

Tea Cupcanvas

It's a Cockney rhyming slang. Fun :-)

I'm starting a new series of illustrations on each of the following  topics -

  • Tea
  • Jazz
  • Violinists
  • Gardens
  • Our Dogs
  • Our Town
  • Vegetable Markets

First I research the topics well and then I create around 10-20 illustrations for each. Work will be done in pen and ink,  water-color, collage and digital media. Partly realistic, partly abstract.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

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