tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117714162026-07-07T03:19:43.178+05:30Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white -MJRushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-18003306893544868252015-06-15T21:50:00.000+05:302015-06-15T21:50:14.501+05:30

Almanya - Welcome to Germany, is a 2011 German comedy directed by Yasemin Samdereli. The movie starts with Canan, a young woman, describing her extended family, and how all of them are having problems. She is dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, with a non-Turkish boyfriend her family knows nothing about. Cenk, her cousin, can't be placed in his school's place of origin map as the map shows

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-20554216619518055122014-09-20T23:42:00.003+05:302014-09-20T23:42:54.654+05:30

So I went to this performance this week, which came highly recommended by my husband's friend.  The performance was by a London based dance group called Hofesh Schecter company. They had live music, and dance. The piece is called Political Mother. The thing that stood out right away was that the music was edgy, and modern. The dance movements, jerky, almost as if people were

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-17252800819237454122014-07-15T16:42:00.000+05:302014-07-15T16:42:13.469+05:30

This was a journey for the soul. I wanted to see if I can walk across the country, an experiment in survival, so to speak, on just $100. I never thought it would be easy. And as I suspected, it was possible. My name is Nick. The last name doesn’t matter. I never knew my parents. After being shuffled between several foster homes, I got into college. And graduated without a job. I never

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-84181010708521936272014-07-14T16:23:00.000+05:302014-08-09T22:40:54.850+05:30

I am going to keep this very short so I don't make the same mistake as I did with Omar. The husband dismisses my movie choices as "artsy" but after checking the Rotten Tomatoes rating, he decided to watch it as well, and loved it! *** Wes Anderson's latest, The Grand Budapest Hotel, is one of the most visually appealing and delightful movies I have seen. Each frame is brilliantly composed, and

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-61893212350467240122014-07-09T02:38:00.004+05:302014-07-11T18:03:17.783+05:30

Please note: This ended up being a plot-line instead of a review - my apologies. Spoiler Alert! You have been warned. *** This 2013 Oscar nominee was written and directed by Hany Abu-Assad and stars Adam Bakri in the titular role. Omar, with his childhood friends Tarek and Amjad, is plotting to kill Israeli soldiers. They train under Tarek's leadership, taking near perfect shots at the

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-71694732887680159032013-11-03T00:22:00.003+05:302013-11-03T00:22:47.560+05:30

No one dreams about death. But secretly, we all do. We hope we are visited by him in the middle of the night, that we barely notice, and that we trouble no one. Wishes however, aren't granted. Amour, a French movie by Austrian film-maker Michael Haneke, is a movie about love and death. More specifically, the progress to death. The movie starts with firemen breaking into an apartment in Paris.

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-49894171576723657252013-09-19T21:45:00.001+05:302013-09-19T21:45:34.460+05:30

I have taken quite a hiatus! *** I went to Ahmedabad recently for a brief work visit. My first impressions: So clean! Most of the roads look spruced up, and well maintained. I even saw a Gaudi-imitation structure at a circle/roundabout, with stones of different colors perched in patterns. One divider was uneven, reminding me of Casa Mila's facade. It was also incredibly hot. The Weather

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-88077845332651083052012-09-09T00:19:00.000+05:302012-09-09T00:24:16.836+05:30

Palette #4 was composed of these 5 bars: Black-Brown-Orange-Red-Black. Writing exercise was that the story had to be based on the Palette (#4) given to me. This is a fictionalized account of what happened in Dos Erres,which is something you will never forget. I imagined Dos Erres to be composed entirely of Palette #4. Story told from Oscar's point of view. Apologies to Oscar.     

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-76823433714050428012012-08-19T20:51:00.001+05:302012-08-20T11:55:27.004+05:30

I have been meaning to watch the movie since I heard about it on NPR. Finally, I did. With a 97% rating on rotten tomatoes and Oscar nomination, Monsieur Lazhar, written and directed by Philippe Falardeau, it certainly sounded promising.  It begins with a school in Montreal, where a boy, Simon, gets milk for the class because it is his turn. The classroom doesn't open, and when he peers

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-77080446205582722312012-07-22T00:54:00.002+05:302012-07-22T13:48:13.479+05:30

The writing exercise was to use two of the below sentences in the piece, one at the beginning, and one at the end. Ten sentences, 20 minutes. Brevity was key.  Sentences: It was a long time ago Who would have ever thought? I couldn't help staring I broke her heart The guts spilled at my feet The darkness stared back at me *** Who would have ever thought that Adriana would be the

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-47852816405698780942012-07-01T00:15:00.000+05:302012-07-01T00:15:08.392+05:30

Today's writing exercises included one in which we had to write acrostic poems. I have seen examples of it before, but have never attempted one. The pieces were to have a theme for the acrostic, based on an image that was shown. The image I got was one of the golden sky at dusk, with a couple of tree tops, two lights and electric wires just above the trees.  The theme I picked was "Golden

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-58954237307616255932012-05-26T20:29:00.000+05:302012-05-26T20:29:16.471+05:30

The love of my life is missing. I have looked everywhere but I can't find him. My wife and I went looking for him all day yesterday. We looked in the park, the woods behind our house and at the bus station. The last time I saw him, he appeared peacefully asleep under the influence of our favorite drug, NyQuil. I had taken a few too many shots of vodka that night. I was woken up in the morning

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-36772119237134651092012-05-05T19:11:00.001+05:302012-05-07T21:50:59.109+05:30

Sharoo flies to a stop and perches on a window sill.  "This is the story of an eagle" says a loud voice. Sharoo turns his head and looks for the source. A bald man wearing glasses is speaking to a group of young boys and one girl.  "Detention" says the sign on the door. A presentation is being beamed on one of the walls. "The Eagle can live up to 70 years... " starts the man. "But

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-55401203375670232232012-02-26T17:30:00.003+05:302012-02-26T18:48:38.012+05:30

Its Oscar season, so this review seems fitting.Released just over a year ago, in time for Cannes, this little gem has gone on to win at major cinematic award shows. Made in the mould of the silent film era, it follows the life of Hollywood star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) from 1927 to the Great Depression. Georve is charismatic, appealing and loves to be the center of attention. He has huge

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-81622770752434983932011-12-31T10:51:00.006+05:302011-12-31T11:56:26.870+05:30

Slated to be one of the best films to come out in 2011, A Separation, fits its billing. The opening scene sets up the plot right away: Nader and Simin are at divorce court. Simin says her husband is fault-less, decent and a very nice man in fact, but he is unwilling to leave Iran to go abroad and seek a better life. Simin has visas for the family, which includes 13 year old Termeh. But Nader does

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-61703100381286130492011-12-25T21:46:00.014+05:302012-02-06T00:15:36.231+05:30

After meeting Manoj I left the building needing to smoke. Maybe if I went home earlier than Shefali and cleaned up she wouldn’t find out right away. But she has great instincts and it won’t be long before she knows that the addiction has taken me in its vice-like grip. The only person who will be thrilled would be my colleague Das knowing that he can bum fags* off of me until I stop smoking again

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-55908465469197619722011-09-01T22:55:00.011+05:302012-01-29T22:45:10.740+05:30

Do you ever feel like we live in an increasingly noisy world? I have been around a long while, so I can attest to it. Open up your newspaper, switch on the TV, everyone is jostling to get your attention. And I am fairly certain that it has been getting hotter. It is hard for me to actually feel these things, admittedly, but I am very perceptive. But we are not here to talk about me. So where

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-68038140405715134372011-07-30T10:43:00.021+05:302012-01-28T12:43:16.544+05:30

I have always been good at reading people. Trying to understand their motivations and raison d’être. Rishab seemed a bit put off when Manoj introduced me, but he recovered his composure very quickly. I wonder if it was because he recognized me, or if he disliked all journalists. In an interview with a women’s journal recently, I was asked if being born with a silver spoon made life a bit easier.

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-76740616055021322812011-07-28T08:53:00.034+05:302011-09-11T01:51:57.112+05:30

“Tengo Hambre” was one of the first Spanish phrases that I learnt, and more importantly, never forgot, because of how important it is – “I am so hungry”. When I asked Ash about planning a trip to Spain, Ash, who has been to Spain twice, wrote me a detailed reply. At the end of the email, he said simply, scratch all I said, just go for the food. We were ready to be gastronomically delighted. And

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-50665550819170082102011-07-13T00:55:00.006+05:302011-07-31T03:02:23.896+05:30

April 30 2011. Madrid.I had been excited for the match ever since I booked the tickets, but grabbing the yellow Real Madrid tickets from the La Caixa ATM solidified the feeling: I was going to see Real Madrid play in their beautiful stadium. All of us wore white. My journal came in handy to figure out the trains to take to Estadio Santiago Bernabeu. The crowd increased as we got closer to our

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-18768536337177360262011-07-09T06:11:00.003+05:302011-07-09T06:31:40.187+05:30

Ghosts of centuries pastBeheld the treasures and watchedMarauders crossing vast swaths of landPillaging, raiding streets paved with gold Muslim raiders to British voyagersScurried away with riches over the yearsBut with the good graces of Lord PadmanabhaThese vaults hidden from grave-robbers, foreign rulers alikeKing after King went behind the strong steel doorsLovingly parting with the wealth

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-19407975530842933852011-07-09T01:57:00.006+05:302011-08-04T04:54:46.683+05:30

Ghosts of centuries pastBeheld the treasures and watchedMarauders crossing vast swaths of landPillaging, raiding streets paved with gold Ghosts of centuries pastBeheld the treasures and watched.Muslim raiders to British voyagersScurried away with riches Ghosts of centuries pastBeheld the prosperity and watchedKing after King visited the vaults withinLovingly parting with the wealth of the state

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-79810888594506763842011-06-20T04:59:00.017+05:302011-11-11T18:45:52.303+05:30

May 3 2011. BarcelonaMuseu Picasso.The morning had been one of discovery. Of little streets and graffiti on the sidewalk. Of finding stone-walls with beautiful sunlight that made for great pictures. We were on our way to the Picasso museum, which had been a must-see on our list. The line snaked down around the museum till the eye could see, and it looked like there were hundreds of people. We

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-7975066801339409292011-06-14T06:51:00.004+05:302011-07-09T02:03:26.649+05:30

Proudly we fight, yetWe run, we hideIn the jungle’s quietBut how can we hushthe screams of the dead?

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11771416.post-35097410356494966662011-06-13T10:18:00.004+05:302011-06-18T08:22:10.477+05:30

I am Kathegara, the storyteller. Over the centuries I have been called many other names: Baghawatha the narrator and Soothradhara the holder of strings. I was five years old when my destiny was foretold. I still remember the day clearly. It was near the end of the Rig-veda, one of the most glorious times in the purity of spiritual thought. A thin, tall man with a beard and long hair appeared at

Rushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05956421044072395261noreply@blogger.com0