Never lost for words...

No, nothing has changed...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 16:07:00 +0000

Where have I been? I wish I knew the answer of this one...

Here are a few things going on in my mind right now.

I hopelessly wish there was a Hagrid in everyone's lives. Why? That is a matter of an entire post.

I'm missing Woody Allen movies. Even blogging about them.

Finally, I have found a gym that fits my bill. Phew!

Where the hell are good movies around Diwali time? All The Best? Blue? Mr and Mrs Khanna? Ewww...

I've intentionally stayed away from Indian channels, since past almost three years, ironically I'm following prime time television through reading about it than watching it all. I am still not sure if I want them back in my life... it is all finishing this article, that story and left over chapters these days...

Perhaps, another bout of change has taken over me, but this time I'm not going to blog about change ;)

The Lost Symbol - Just another page out of Robert Langdon's life

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 19:27:00 +0000

Picking up Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol wasn't an impulse buy. He is no J R Rowling to me. But I still felt the need to stay with the hype and make sure I don't miss anything good in life. Turns out, I wasn't missing anything that good.

To be precise, not giving out any inside details, Lost Symbol is just another typical Robert Langdon journey where he unwillingly unravels a mystery. This time he in Washington D.C. Dan Brown decided to stay in Langdon territory and hasn't tried anything new. It is just a page out of Langdon's life. Or rather 509 pages out of Langdon's one night. It predictably has mishaps, a woman by his side, some old cunning light eyed chaps trying to trick the world and the rest that you've already seen.

It is ideal for fans, who want to read up something with familiar rush, but it doesn't go beyond that. The content and even dialogue seem repetitive after a few pages. It surely doesn't surpass the Da Vinci Code and the average affair kept reminding me of National Treasure's version of Masonic treasure hunt. I also could easily visualize a younger Tom Hanks as Langdon. Tom Hanks always makes sense, anyhow. I'm sure no matter how well the book does, the movie version will be just around the corner.

And personally, I'm just glad it broke my reading pattern, I can peacefully get some work done now that it is over. I expected some kind of rush after finishing the book, but now I'm on a high because of another book. It is a Sony Vaio Netbook. I'm not a fan of vanity but I so loved this model, I convinced myself I needed it. Now till I get some serious work done on it, I won't call it an impulse buy.

Just another day's post...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 06:40:00 +0000

Sometimes I really wonder if my yearning-for-Ahmadabad posts and poems are becoming more soppy. At least they feel entertaining and overly sentimental in retrospective. But then all good and bad writing comes out of powerful, overwhelming feelings.

Internet is another overwhelming thing for me. I've not been able to get over the amazement even after all these years of constantly being online. Just like a lot of people around the globe, I've been wired (sometimes on a wifi) for the past whole decade. I've never shied away from putting my pictures or sharing personal details apart from drawing a certain line barring the nuisance. Sharing your identity over the Internet requires a judgment call and common sense like most other decisions in life.

Recently, I had one of my first bitter unprofessional experience through a website. With more spams and cheaters flooding the net, your real credibility would have a dark cloud looming over it. You may not be good enough if you are present on certain portals. What is too casual or too formal? And what if you haven't updated your profile in a while? What if your boss is following you on twitter? I used to find Shashi Tharoor's tweets pretty intriguing. But then, I was waiting for it to get into news for the wrong reasons. It did, and sooner than expected.

To experience the best side of the web, you sometimes end up with rude shocks. But that is the chance you have to take. But it does make sense to adjust the line to keep your online credibility intact.

I still live here...don't I?

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 13:30:00 +0000

The books I stacked up a few years back are still in the same order.
Remember when you cracked a joke about him and I laughed so hard,
I spilled tea on the floor.
The old fashioned tiles soaked that tea up,
Leaving my footprints.
Does he still get offended when you joke about him?
Please don't change the curtains or this paint without me.
I live in them remember?
When I sleep anywhere at night,
I think of the wall under the book case.
I find my clothes lying around,
As if I still live here,
But... don't I?

15 September, 2009,
At home, Ahmedabad

A little bit of religious passive smoking

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 10:14:00 +0000

Warning: I could easily laugh this subject off, take-it-easy as they say, but thinking about it seemed like a good warming up exercise before I start actually writing.

It is easy to belong to a group. But it is not that easy to not be a part of a group and still be around its members. I generally avoid to touch the subject, but last night, my mind was whirling around religion after some recent conversations.

They say religion is the opium of the people, Marx surely said and seemed to believe in it. When I am faced with a swig, I generally pass it. But I must say I can not help being the passive smoker. And as the side-effect of it all, I' can not help getting the subject. I generally prefer non-committal nods and smiles. But sometimes those on a religious high, end up getting disappointed or impatient with me. I prefer my sanity or the insane version of it. I make my own religion.

Ironically, you would be considered rude, opinionated (there is a lack of swear words for non-religious people) or ungrateful if you do not agree to such religious dogmas. Be thankful to God, what good you have and if you are not well, wait for him to solve your troubles.

Why wouldn't they let you take credit for your hard work, blood boiling, wrong choices and perspiration and spare you the burden. Can't simple 'cause' and 'effects' be good explanations?

I could entirely avoid the subject, but I owe this to my love of analogy. I might be able to throw that smoke from my lungs that I inhaled as the passive smoker remember?

It feels like religion and god as these masses represent them, are functioning like a business or an industry. This industry caters to people's fears, wishes, troubles, other emotional needs or inexplicable circumstances. And the beauty is, this business does not guarantee any results. It is allowed to be ambiguous in the name of keeping the faith. How I wish people could show more faith in themselves, take responsibilities for their actions, the good ones and accept the faults and be done with it? Why are we so egoistic that we need an outer entity to blame or take responsibilities for our actions?

I somehow feel it is possible to have faith, respect, integrity, honour, self-respect and a lot of good and bad things in life, even if you do not have any particular form of God, demanding your time, money (oh you would need a lot of it in this business), emotional and physical involvement.

While making ample use of words like 'pray', 'touch wood', 'keeping fingers crossed', 'best of luck' and more from that family, I wonder if in desperation to seek solutions to all our troubles, are we mistaking 'chance' with 'almighty' and it has been all snowballing into one entity of Mr. God? And I should refrain from suggesting if God could be a woman. Perhaps at the end of the day it is all just a matter of perspective.

It is a gray area. But I am glad a decent part of world population has experienced this gray area where reason is more threatening than religion. It gives me the freedom to chose not to smoke and avoid passive smoking as well.

It's the story of my life yaar!

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 06:19:00 +0000

... well that is how we feel when we open and skim through the self-help, diet, positive thinking, inspiring success kinda books.

My favourite people have been bringing these books to me and sometimes, I pick them up as part of my reading experiments.

When my favourite professor gifted me M Scott Peck's Road Less Travelled, it had the same old format, people in trouble, getting over it all through positive spirits, determination and all the ingredients you need to be firm and successful. I learnt a few lessons, or so I thought.

Mum and Dad, over many many years, have got me Zig Ziglar to Secret to lots of other useful bestsellers which have been very handy in knowing why these things are so popular.

Often when one is in a soup, A Chicken Soup for whatever Soul might not be the way to cop through any of it. But the thing is, these book are like instant gratification for the troubled souls. I'm starting to feel that the self-help books are the junk-f00d or dark chocolate for these souls which gives instant pleasure while you are in pain, but the effect lasts till the next trouble comes along. And if these books are helping you cop with them, trust me, you will need another book for the next problem.

To think of it, the genre has a varied target audience which is constantly going to be hungry. I wouldn't mind keeping some of those inspiring diet books (not the really useful ones) into the same category where they almost make you believe that eating the book is going to help you lose weight. Ironically, their target audience is also confused about religion and faith. Some self-help books disguise themselves as mini-biographies, describing lives of successful people (business, art cinema, corporate, sports, politics et el). The overfed, success and confidence starved readers are all game for it.

A frustrated journalist friend of mine wondered with a lot of 'fake positivity' floating around, aren't we just nurturing fake ego into a young generation which believes in positive thoughts but would read about them than act on them. It is just like praying to a God to solve your problems and do nothing about them.

Some are so addicted to the genre that they start believing as they've recovered from their fall, they can advise more people. I once came across an insurance agent who told me he had published a 'positive thinking' book and when I asked him to show it to me. He pulled out a spiral bound book printed on his computer where mainly, he had compiled list of hopefully positive words starting from each letter of alphabet.

I recently became member of the Bookmark library (ironically the franchise owner's son sits at the counter watching episodes of Friends loudly, calling the place a library), I was browsing through the titles. And half of the library is occupied by Danielle Steel and Nora Roberts, the rest is all self help with some occasional classics thrown in.

Well, a rampant generalisation of the genre through a blog doesn't seem like a good idea either. The genre does have some rare few really inspiring books as well. But I've been bugged by the 'fake positivism' for a very long time now. I want to see more reality. I want to see more fiction, more wit, more fun, more poetry and thinking.

Gawd, I'm asking for too much. I am gonna need to find a self-help book on how to get over that. Perhaps I should write one too.

Phew!

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 02:42:00 +0000

Before something happens (like my internet crashes, or electricity goes puff, I think of a book and get away, BJP gets more damaged, another stupid comedy releases in Bollywood after Daddy Cool, Life Partner, Love Khichdi or something like that, I get distracted... you get the point...) I need to finish this blog.

Before I end up writing another Hotch Potch kinda thing, I need to get to the point too. I did seem to have one. Meanwhile I was caught reading Deathly Hallows and watching Half Blood Prince again. But after that I'm reading some other beautiful books worth separate posts.

Pune and I were almost struggling to like each other. We've entered the mutual admiration stage now it seems. Builders and Rickshaw wallahs are the kamineys for me along with the flu virus that seem to be tainting the otherwise beautiful city. Yup, builders cause got an awesomely beautiful house here. In fact the surroundings are so breathtaking if you've made it to Mulshi dam or Lavasa. Glad I made it there at least.

Nature made a divine intervention and the city started growing on me. A few night outs, lots of good food and I can already pictured myself writing an I-Love-Pune blog.

A lot is brewing along with my new found addiction to Oats (How did I reach there?). Stay tuned, if you are tuned here at all, the place is about to explode with posts...

Hotch Potch

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 12:03:00 +0000

In last few days, every time I sat down to write, some other random thought came in and I ended up over-writing the thought already under process. Getting hit with normal flu in a Swine-flu hit city, wondering what could be the extent of builder community's 'Kaminapan', missing my gymming (should start with that soon), wondering how it used to feel like, being fearless of messy ideas. Ironically, this over-writing has sort of created an inexplicable, confusing, inky mess of thoughts. Before I add some more thoughts to that, I should simply unwind it with all those movie-titles and words I can still figure out. I'll start in reverse.

Kaminey -

This 'fatak' film is not for everyone who can step inside the theaters. It either takes a special taste of movies or just decent ability to think. And still, it is not a movie that preaches and makes statements. Every statement it makes is through an action sequence, a piece of music, an incident, a relationship. The world of Kaminey is in utter chaos. So is ours.

Love Aaj Kal -

Now here is a movie that preaches and preaches and preaches about understanding 'love'. Wait, it is just Saif and Rishi Kapoor doing that. But boy it was a lot of Saif on screen. Deepika Padukone was quite endearing with that Hema Malini, Sridevisque Southie dialogue delivery. The music is foot tapping. It is entertainment all the way.

Ice Age III -

Now this is what I call living life dangerously. The dinosaurs are back and so is all the fun with Sid. Manny is going to have kids and it is just so full of life. Kinder-tainment doesn't get better than this.

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince -

The very fact that I am not writing a separate post for it spells some level of disappointment. The movie was good. But boy it was tooooo late. Why couldn't it simply come out when every one was waiting for it. They practically showed the whole film in teasers over a year. And why in the name of you-know-who they had to add that burning of the Burrows scene? Why did they screw up Harry-Ginny romance in such a twisted way? It was still a good movie. After all it was a potter-film. But they just leave me wishing for more. But then movies have never lived up to books.

Now all it took me to feel fearless again is to reach the end of this blog post. I may write again about Kaminey and Half Blood Prince, but as of now. I'm going to wallow in all the care that comes along with falling ill.

In a new city, again.

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 10:40:00 +0000

Sudden deceptive raindrops wanted me to like it here.

Then the hope got drenched as a truck cruised by.

The power goes off any time.

I know the language they speak.

But I pretend not to understand them.

I easily find the way around.

But I want to stay lost and never be found.

Familiar with this sense of unfamiliarity,

We make an odd couple,

Unfriendly me, and the friendly city.

We are like that only...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 11:54:00 +0000

Not bad eh?

New York

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 10:02:00 +0000

Let's face it. Being politically correct and emotionally charged at the same time is a tough call. Especially if you are making a movie for Indian audiences. When people have a serious issue based subject, a big banner and budget to die for, why not stick to the guns instead of adding all the masalas. I'm talking about Kabir Khan's New York.

Making a movie about wrongly accused innocent people suffering at the hands of FBI could have been a heart-wrenching piece. But it feels like New York at the end of the day just wants to be a cool issue based movie that wants to get talked about by collegians.

First thing first, it treats FBI as if it were police of Indian movies that arrives late on all occasions. Every person, organization even nation makes mistake. Roshan, the FBI officer played by Irrfan Khan says that himself. This means, filmmakers are allowed to make mistakes too. The movie begins nicely and keeps you happily engaged till the interval. So much so, your expectations have gone up a bit. But suddenly the second half the story is in a free fall with the preachy Muslims - Amreicans bhai bhai scenes. Okie, we know the makers are out with good intentions. But that is not enough to turn it into a great movie. When your protagonist has turned a terrorist after a trauma, he can not be glorified for the heck of it.

Purely from the artistic view point, when you name a movie after a city, at least the director should make sure the city turns out to be a character in the film and not just a fancy backdrop with trendy clothes of eye candy protagonists.

But then I'm thankful for the eye candy part of the protagonists. Else it would have been a bit painful to sit through really bad acting and a plot moving to a nowhere land. Katrina Kaif and John Abraham could have had more defined characters and relationship. The only scene that has stayed with me is Neil Nitin Mukesh dancing on a shady streets with Katrina while singing Zindagi Khwab Hai, Khwab Mein, Jhooth Kya, Aur Bhala Sach Hai Kya... New York is unconsciously trying to target that gray area of life. And needless to say it is way off the mark.

Going...going...gone

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 23:51:00 +0000

Here is my last post from Stuttgart for now. Moving teaches many new lessons and gives many fresh insights into something which might appear normal otherwise.

For example, a wardrobe or a cupboard looks ghostly and different when it is empty. I can almost tell when it is filled with someone's life or it has been emptied of what existed there.

When you are moving cross country, you can never carry enough luggage with you. No matter how much baggage your airline allows you or there is always an option of sending a cargo to the destination. Bottomline, chances are your favourite things from the past might are just excess baggage.

Being ruthless helps. 'Oh I wore that t-shirt at that party where we had our first champagne together.' 'I bought this from my first salary.' Well, whatever emotional attachments, price tags, utility factors you bring in the picture, at the end of the day, keep your priorities clear.

And if you are a writer and you are obviously not JK Rowling (who used to get in the news for not checking in her manuscripts), carrying your originally written notepads in your handbag means shoulder pain for a week.

We've just finished packing, and treated ourselves to midnight Bhel party. The weather is simply marvellous and I do find the ghostly wardrobes, stacked up boxes of left overs and pull between excitement and emptiness a little overwhelming.

Any way, it is already morning and the day has started at the destination. Mann, I already started talking in the flight attendent language.

A sentimental post in the morning

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 05:48:00 +0000

Finally those warm days are here in Stuttgart when you can just lie back on your terrace in the late evenings to do nothing. I will get a couple of them.

As IT nomads, we don't attach ourselves to places and homes. Yet I wonder if you can resist attachment to any place where you've breathed happiness and confusion and everything that falls around those words.

So, then I need to twist that thought. I'm going to stay attached to this place in my mind for as long as my memories exist. Now it is no longer difficult for me to understand my growing obsession for my home. If you know me, you know where am I talking about...

I'm reminded of Susheela Raman's Same Song (on The Namesake soundtrack) again.

The Same Song lyrics

How many roads have I wondered?
None, and each my own
Behind me the bridges have crumbled
No question of return

Autumn leaves like discarded dreams
trampled underneath a tide of careless feet
it’s the same song playing
everywhere I go
it’s like an army marching right through me.

Nowhere to go but the horizon
where, then, will I call my home?

Summer spent, in the high grass
or just fragments, ransacked memories
dark river snakes, across this murky hall
boatman sings his downstream melodies.

How many roads have I wondered?
None, and each my own
Behind me the bridges have crumbled
where, then, will I call my home?

Moving targets...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 18:26:00 +0000

I'm constantly on the move.

Reaching and finishing,

Achieving and destroying.

Why isn't doing something enough?

A whatever world is following me.

I can't make up my mind,

Do I like it or loath it?

Must I take sides?

Below the cover of the clouds,

Targets are moving again.

Steadily wavering.

Are they still playing by the same rules?

It feels like I'm hurrying up,

to finish a book.

And someone is adding more chapters to it.

Thoughts of food...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 16:00:00 +0000

Kumar has just posted an awesome blog, giving a peek into our high calorie month of May when mum and dad were here. Though I would love to get sentimental again, but sometimes it is just all about food...

Here is the link to his blog - http://kumar-palan.blogspot.com/

or just take a look at it here itself...

Last month was a delight for the tummy. The folks were here in Stuttgart and that resulted in such great culinary wonders that not for a moment we felt we were away thousand miles from India. So here is a small walkthrough over what we treated ourselves with.

Caution: If you are somewhere in office or on a diet or craving for food, DON'T read further! Reading ahead and looking at these pictures could give you serious cravings, withdrawal symptoms and greedy tongues.

Yellow spongy bliss.
Khaman dhokla has been the snack of choice for every self-respecting gujju fond of food. Though not made as ubiquitously like the humble idli, it is a well known dish even to non-gujjus.

Top up these yellow steamed cubes with heavenly alphonso mango-ras and puris and it is a already on way to being one of the best lunches ever.
Whats for dinner, btw?

The Handvo is a relatively unknown dish from Gujarat, more so like a savory cake made by baking ground pulses with veggies of choice and a tasty mustard-spice tempering.
(the pic wasn't intended to make the Handvo look like Pacman, but here it is)

A completely microwaved stuffed Karela (bitter-gaurd) and potato dish. Loads of jaggery and spice, cooked to perfection, over the veggies, topped up with coriander and sev.
Ahaa...

Sinfulicious Daal-Makhni made by the missus, with generous amounts of cream and butter falling just short of the annual dairy produce of New-Zealand.

And here comes the most famous export of Gujju-land after Mahatma Gandhi and the Ambanis. The awesome Pav-Bhaji. Probably the most coalition-friendly dishes of all - a delightful mix of mashed up veggies and pav-bhaji masala and topped up with.... well see for yourself.And yeah, eaten with the humble paav, buttered and browned.Bliss!

Nice little south indian breakfast of bowled upma , only the coffee replaced by aromatic ginger-tea.

Speaking of South-Indian breakfast, how about masala idlis washed down with saffrony Alphonso mango milk-shake?

And now the Western Breakfast. Pancakes with a generous dollop of Apricot Jam. But mixed with Indian ginger-tea again.

Paalak Daal and jeera-rice go well if you in a mood for north-south collaboration. And why leave behind cool refreshing peach-flavored ice-tea?

A very gujju coup.
Gujju bhakhris (parathas) with a most tradtional eggplant-potato curry. Just yummy!

Lemon Slice-cake does the trick to cheer you up on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

And since we mentioned desserts, an Apple-pie with the best light-brown crust in Stuttgart will do just fine.

And to round up this yummy array of savories, we have yet another gujju dessert. The always-underrated Doodh-paak. Yummylicious thick flavoured milk with copious amounts of dry-fruits and saffron.

I'll leave you now drooping with saliva and running to the kitchen/fridge for some life-saving eatables...

Match Point, There is Something About Woody Allen - Part 5

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 06:40:00 +0000

Larry King recently returned from watching Woody Allen's Whatever Works and twittered that it was Allen's best work so far. Almost every time someone sees his good movies, they would be tempted to say this is his best. But then I've derived to this thought that Woody Allen is a creator whose best might never come or would end up creating a series of 'nearly his best works'. He was recently in news again for winning a law-suit settlement and making more money than a box office hit. Okie, now I should start talking about one of his movies in the next line or two.

When you watch Match Point, you've two things in mind. 'It is brilliant.' and 'It is too long.' But when you think back to what all could have been cut or chopped off, there is hardly anything you can think of. Match Point deviates from a regular Woody movie. It is not his regular film with quirky creative characters. Match Point is about cunning selfish characters. All of them have a personal motif and all of them almost succeed in that. The setting and the British society with a few outsiders thrown in feels like a model replica of the larger hypocritical world that hardly ever means what it says.

It is about a struggling Irish tennis coach, who starts tutoring high-society snobs and designs to end up as one by marrying one of them and risks losing it all to a post-marital affair. Very humanly, he falls in love with the wrong person and tries to undo it in one of the most inhuman way. In between all that there are a lot of steamy scenes, sutble dialogues and minute observations of a society that has degenrated over a period of time.

Jonathan Rhys Meyers, that cute coach from Bend it Like Beckham, shows a totally different kinda caliber as an actor while playing the ambitious, degenrating protagonist Chris. Scarlett Johansson is Nola, the usual neurotic attraction that is present in different forms in all circles. The other British ensamble paraphernelia proves apt and useful.

Just by putting 'chance' in the center of the story, how relationships are toyed around is depicted beautifully. And when the credits open, the movie starts with how winning or losing in a tennis match and perhaps in life, depends on which side of the net your ball falls on. Make sure you remember that one till the surprising end.

Match Point is urban classic with less Woody Allen characterisitics but retains his abitliy of bringing out brilliant satirical moments. It is interesting to see Woody move out of his familiar New York state of creativity and make a success of it. I still wish it was a little shorter though.

Breath of fresh air..

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 08:49:00 +0000

Lots of things happening.. Or perhaps I should be singing my Ghulam Ali favourite - Dil Mein Ek Laher Si Uthi hai Abhi...

First of all, mom and dad have peacefully reached Ahmedabad after having a blast in Dubai. I couldn't have had more energetic time here in Stuttgart. There is something very electric about having Mum around and something very sincere about Paa that makes you want to be better. hardworking, alive and what not. And I am not just saying this because I'm related to them. Okie, I know you are getting a cavitie but a girl has to say what she is feeling right now (or all the time).

****

Secondly, this whole Air France flight was a scary business. I followed the news reluctantly but people travel by air all the time, and one such incident in a decade leaves you questioning about everythinng in the world, specially if your family is air travelling that very night. (Even Kumar was on a flight to Brussels). He practically takes 20 flights a month and there couldn't be a safer way of travelling. We were talking about how more number of people get affected by road accidents, but because of the unusual horrors involved, airplane accidents are scarier. As they say, time makes you forget a lot of things, I'm not a worrier, nor do I pray (unless I'm using it as an expression), all I can do is keep my fingers crossed as a gesture when someone boards a flight for the next few days. We do have short attention span and memories, specially for disasters.

****

What's more, I'm enjoying my last few days in Germany. It has been a quiet and secluded time for me here but I'm making the most of the time left without hesistating in taking off to Konig Strasse in a while. I do intend to finish my Woody Allen series, start a new series reviewing Romantic Comedies and intend to have as many movie reviews as possible. It is difficult for me to be formal on blogs or in life (unless you count the endless and useless sorries and thank yous that I use in conversations). I've tried to combine some of my old blogs on http://pratikshathanki.wordpress.com. But still http://o3.indiatimes.com/pratiksha, from my most productive time, is not added there. I will find a way to have all my blogs in one place soon. Till then I'm off to get a haircut and write some Gujarati pieces... singing Koi Taaza Hawa Chali Hai Abhi...

Ahmedabad on my mind...again...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Fri, 29 May 2009 18:10:00 +0000

I remember a conversation with my professor Ranjana Harish, the more you travel the more you learn about how way of life changes as you move from mile to mile. It is not something new, but every one seems to be suddenly traveling a lot. And it is a very good thing. We do live in a smaller world. Nothing seems far off....except home. Mom and dad are packing their bags to go back home, you can imagine the pull I'm feeling right now. They had brought Ahmedabad to me here in Germany for a while...

On and off you end up reading sentimental post here which simply means 'aww I miss Ahmedabad'. I often decide to be less sentimental at this place, may be that would have to wait. After a random conversation today I realized that I can finally say after a decent bit of traveling, I've seen a lot of changes and a lot of life but everything seems to make me yearn more for my city. Perhaps because that is the place that has showed me a lot of life. Other places seem to be adding to the picture that was roughly sketched there. I can frankly say that to me life in restrospect feels much more advanced, safe, elevated, full of energy in Ahmedabad and I've some how missed that in some of the larger and richer places. Perhaps I can imagine similar energy in some of the other cities of India.

Any way, after talking of my own roots, I'm preparing to visit roots of culture and literature. Yes, I'll be in Athens next week. Ahmedabad of my mind can make some way for some Plato, Aristotle and some Greek Tragedies. As of now, I'll be dealing with an immediate tragedy, of packing bags that is going to leave a hole in my life again.

Angels and Demons

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Thu, 21 May 2009 05:45:00 +0000

Expectations are weird things. They make you want more from movies when they are based on successful books. I used the term 'successful' and Angels and Demons didn't have it easy. It was written before Dan Brown became the man who wrote Da Vinci Code. In the matter of detailing and thrill, Angels and Demons often surpasses Da Vinci Code. Though some facts and incidents used in both these books are debatable, fictional and contrived, the heart of both these novels are at the right pace and it sets your heart pounding as Robert Langdon manages to crack one symbol after another.

Angels and Demons has got the gist right, but the papal conclave, the Illuminati references and anti-matter surrounding the core of science vs religion story still works on the screen if you leave the book off your mind for a while.

Robert Langdon is summoned to the Vatican (It goes to CERN first in the book) as a symboligist to figure out the references left by an assassin on the day of Papal conclave after the Pope's death. Camerlengo, the young in-charge of Pope's office seems helpful and mysterious at the same time. Vittoria, a scientist and daughter of creator of Anti-matter accompanies him as she has to find the anti-matter in time before it explodes and brings the Vatican and half the Rome to ashes. Once it becomes clear what they're facing, they are racing from one monument to the other with some hits and misses.

The canvas is large, but I can't help bringing the book in again, you can not have enough time in two hours to include everything. Just as a stand alone film, Angels and Demons is fine. The production value is super. I wish it showed more bonding between Vittoria and Langdon, had given them more time talking of artistic and scientific heritage. But as it follows the central action, it seems to spend more time on Camerlengo and it is still good. Ewan McGregor seems like a curious but correct choice for the role as he does total justice. Tom Hanks is never wrong in playing a character, but somehow just like most other fans, I still have a different Langdon in mind. Hell, I'm more a Tom

Hanks fan than Robert Langdon's, so it is all thumbs up for Hanks.

I still wish to watch it a couple of times just to savour it. Nothing takes your mind off access rain and relaxes after work than a mystery that has your hero save a future Pope, get trapped in various Roman churches and break Vatican rules.

Worth the while...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Sun, 17 May 2009 17:41:00 +0000

It has been a while since I wrote here, But it has been worth the while, at least for me. Mom and Dad are here. I don't know if any other time would ever compare to the time I've had this month. We are practically looking up for every sight and stone associated with World War around Stuttgart and this part of Germany. I must say we've made it to quite a few places in a short time. Dachau concentration camp and Birkenkopf top that list. Heidelberg is a pleasure as usual. And now we've Karlsruhe, Lake Constance and Black Forest on the cards. And in between, I had a super birthday. Though I wrote a tweet about it, I would love to repeat that I am going to stop aging. Or at least would try to. :)

Along with random hours of work, laughing at reading chapters of Bill Bryson's Notes from the Big Country in between, eating mom-made stuff (Kumar has promised us a photo blog on that one) and looking at dedicated Dad working from here is a treat.

I can not not mention yesterday's election results. I'm pleasantly surprised. I was expecting another jumble but was wishing for a smooth sail for anyone. I was also wishing there was an absentee voting system, cause I can surely not afford to fly just to vote. Many of my friends haven't voted for various reasons like 'I don't like politics' and 'I'm angry with netas' and wot not. But these are the reasons why they should vote. Any way, the result seems fair enough. Though I'm neither anti nor pro Modi, I feel content that his autonomy can not go far from where it is now.

Right now, Dad is writing his election cover story for Kolkata Halchal, Mum is reading Jackpot (Gujarati translation of Q&A, the book that Slumdog Millionaire is based on), Kumar is reading Suketu Mehta's Maximum City and I'm just trying to feel the worth for a while...

Twilight

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Fri, 01 May 2009 14:24:00 +0000

About three things I am certain.

First, Edward Cullen and Bella Swan romance is refreshing since Lizzy Bennett and Mr Darcy.

Second, there is a part of me, and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be, that doesn't think Twilight is a superlative work of literature.

And Third, I am unconditionally and irrevocably addicted to Twilight.

I started off with the movie and was left dissatisfied (bad make up, special effects and more). But I did catch up with Robert Pattinson phenomena. Hope New Moon and Eclipse would turn out to be better movies.

I finished reading four books in three days. I was still reluctant in admitting that in spite of over used adjectives and too much of Edward Cullen admiration, the romance was fresh. It was easy to find faults with the book. But I realized that the positive aspects are so strongly written it does rise above average success.

Though this supernatural teen romance spread over four book isn't consistently good. Sometimes Stephenie Meyer is extra ordinary with her characters, and yet, what happens to them seem too convenient. The premises are promising and loop holes are scattered everywhere. But the heart of the story is in the right place. That is what works. I kept on wondering why does it have such an appeal, and reluctantly moving beyond biases I realized it was the simplicity, happily ever after effect and eternal romance that make it work.

I'm also quite taken in with this whole hoopla around Robert Pattinson. Poor guy has become the shiny new toy of Hollywood that everyone loves to 'scream at'. The kind of music he plays, the kind of movies he has landed up with goes well with his neurotic persona. There is a similarity in success of Twilight and Rob Pattinson, the series and the man are a queer combination of routine gelled with unique attributes.

I would love to do a book by book analysis here, but it has already interrupted my Woody Allen series and I would not want to interrupt that for now. Work and vacation both are taking a different turn now that I get to spend a whole uninterrupted month with Mom and Dad in Stuttgart. Excited!

Vicky Christina Barcelona, There is Something about Woody Allen - Part 4

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 18:07:00 +0000

I want to write about this while my Easter vacation trip to Barcelona is still fresh in the memory. It is a city dripping with enthusiasm. Many replicas of New York and Paris and Venice are scattered around the globe. Barcelona is quite new compared to other cities with unique identities. And it stands out for its refreshing attitude to everything. (Though personally, I didn't get good food (I won't curse vegetarianism), and it was sunny only for half of my stay.) But Woody Allen's Vicky Christina Barcelona surely made more sense to me after a trip to Barcelona.

Vicky Christina Barcelona struck me as a rough title. But it conveys the absence of grammar in life and relationships of its characters. However, the movie has a structure of its own. In a weird way (don't know if intentional or not), Gaudi's unusual architecture provides perfect symbolic background to many of the important scenes in the movie.

The quintessential narrator of Woody Allen's movie is present here as well with his mellow sarcastic pinches. The movie starts with Vicky and Christina, two highly different individuals but best friends from the US, landing in Barcelona for spending their summer. Vicky is engaged to be married and Christina is eternally in search of an artistic medium to express herself and in the process follows all those rules of being a neurotic.

Both Vicky and Christina bump into a popular, recently divorced, Spanish painter Juan Antonio, who frankly tells them, he is attracted to both of them. Vicky stays uptight and refuses his advances while Christina is ready to go with the flow.

Three of them go on a spontaneous visit to Oviedo, and as our story teller will have it, Vicky ends up having a one night stand with Juan Antonio and her planned, structured life comes crashing. Christina on the other hand, ends up having a longer relationship with the Bohemian artist and his ex-wife.

All three of them, Vicky, Christina and Juan Antonio are sort of one dimensional, defined, flat, caricatures. The only alive and throbbing character in the movie is of Juan Antonio's crazy ex-wife Maria Elena. She appears at the half way of the movie like a shooting star. (Penelope Cruz deserves that Oscar.) She is the epitome of messed up creativity. She oozes exuberance and constant need to express herself. She seems ready to burst out at any minute, at every minute. She is impossible to live with, but Juan Antonio can not live without her at the same time. Her tantrums are fun to watch.

Everything gets more and more messy in an unpredictable way leading to a structured ending in this Romantic Comedy. Vicky's side of life represents all those who want a li'l bit of craziness in life but think that they would rather be practical. While Christina is all about that scary freedom that is more thought of than put in action. The cast, Xavier Bardem, Scarlett Johansson and Rebecca Hall, performs well, but it is Penelope who casts a large shadow.

Still it is not one of those better Woody Allen movies. I missed the one-liners and the biting sarcasm and a lot of other regular elements. But then it was not set at a regular place. The movie has its own colour and moral tone. There are a lot of places where two girls could have gone to spend vacation, fall for a bohemian artist and his wife, but Allen couldn't have chosen a better city to portray a completely different aspect of relationships.

Christina goes about clicking pictures of flowers and antiques at little shops on La Rambla while Vicky is busy going from Gaudi's one building to another. Spanish-Catalan culture is woven into the movie so well, it almost feels educative in places to people who have never heard of it before.

The run-of-the-mill rules do not apply to city of Barcelona and the rules of relationships do not apply to Vicky Christina Barcelona.

Manhattan, There is Something about Woody Allen - Part 3

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 09:07:00 +0000

Taking my Woody Allen, something-holic experience to the next step, here I am, writing from Manhattan of Brussels, about one of his controversial (ha!) flicks, Manhattan.

Allen himself was so dissatisfied with this movie that he offered the production house to direct the next movie for free. And ironically, the movie made more money than any of his favourites. Hota hai... Wasn't Raj Kapoor surprised how Mera Naam Joker left him bankrupt, and a teenager-romance like Bobby had put him back on the pedestal?

Released in 1979, after two years of Annie Hall, Manhattan could again be called quintessential quirky (I'm going to exhaust this word by the end of my blog series) Allen. Like most of his on-screen avatars, he plays a middle aged divorced TV series writer Isaac, in faltering relationships, currently dating a high school student, much smarter for her age. Though he spends most of his time with her, trying to explain to her why they can't stay together for long.

Isaac's ex-wife has left him for a woman (yes, Ross' case was not original). And his ex-wife is writing a book about her traumatising relationship in her marriage with him. His 'happily-married' friend is having an affair. He takes it for granted that his dating the high school girl is not going to last and tries to fix himself with his friend's mistress. Ya, ya.. it all sounds very confusing. Go figure how it happens in the movie. It is totally worth it.

While figuring out what is happening in the movie, one ends up admiring how Woody uncle deals with neurosis of relationships, steering his story towards an unpredictable end with his trademark wit and glimpses of postcard scenes of New York.

There are some humorous gems when he is mocking the parties and pseudo discussions and wot not. Most of all, I love the way it begins. With the dialogues of a self correcting writer, starting a new piece, scribbling his first paragraph... "Chapter One. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Beneath his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat. I love this. New York was his town, and it always would be... "

I couldn't resist put some samples of what he has to say about his audience, "You're going by audience reaction? This is an audience that's raised on television, their standards have been systematically lowered over the years. These guys sit in front of their sets and the gamma rays eat the white cells of their brains out! "

And then there are loads of passages I can go on quoting. In spite of his dissatisfaction with this one, it has one of the best moments of his career, permanently associating him with his beloved city. They often call it his love song to New York.

He plays similar characters in his movies, but he is like the static end of the compass, as he lets the gamut of his other actors, characters explore other areas of life, art and relationships. Mariel Hemingway, Meryl Streep and Diane Keaton do fine justice to their characters here.

I'm sure he has survived and been appreciated over the years in spite of who he is, Allen's work is not all talk. His cinematography, lighting, large frames and editing keep reminding you that it is a powerful piece of cinema. Though it looks like he is being egotistical with his dialogues and characters, Manhattan rates very high on cinematic techniques.

And though the movie is not about the city, one could feel Manhattan looming over the relationships, providing a prefect canvas for all that is happening.

Watching Manhattan may not change the way you look at life, but it would surely change the way you appreciate cinema.

Amsterdam on my mind...

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 17:02:00 +0000

It's a busy time. Thankfully. Something about the weekend in Amsterdam has triggered a strange restlessness (without trying the pot cafes). And I plan to utilize it before I could make some space in my mind for Barcelona next week.

Annie Hall, There is Something about Woody Allen - Part 2

pratikshathanki@gmail.com (Pratiksha Thanki) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 21:04:00 +0000

I was looking up for quotable quotes from Annie Hall and ended up reading half the script of the movie. This would give you some idea of the strength of a tight script with very little happening in the story. Though majority of dialogues are, what you may call 'blabbering'. I used to label some of my posts 'blabber' and stopped doing it. I thought it was demeaning to what I wanted to say.

But then, when I heard Woody Allen 'blabber', I realized how someone can make sense out of nonsense, and not in a Hindi film way. I say this because the movies we make in Bollywood in the name of entertainment and write in brackets (you should enjoy it if you leave your brains at home.) feel like a joke. And mind you, they take themselves too seriously.

First Woody Allen movie fact I have noticed is, his movies don't take themselves seriously. Annie Hall doesn't for sure. But they do make a serious point, sometimes.

Imagine this first scene, Alvy Singer - the male protagonist is talking to the camera, telling us he shouldn't have broken up with Annie and lapses into telling us his life story. As a kid he was depressed because he read somewhere 'The universe is expanding.' He stops studying as the universe is bound to break apart.

The first viewing of Annie Hall could surely have you in a ROFWL state, but at the same time they make you want to pat yourself for getting those funny moments.

His characters do not take life with a pinch of salt, and in return, his movie ends up giving us that pinch of salt as an after effect of the film.

Alvy is a quirky (yeah, thatz my favourite word these days) comedian and Annie is almost his female counterpart. The movie is more like study of human nature and relationships than just about their particular relationship.

My personal favourite moment between the two is when they're walking, and Alvy asks Annie if he is her first serious love. Then watch both of them pass through Annie's predictable past. Annie is every girl, and she is extra special, just like every girl. I wonder how Diane Keaton managed an Oscar win when it is Alvy, doing the talking. A lot of it at that.

Here is a sample of Annie and Alvy's conversations:

Alvy Singer: Oh stop it, you're having an affair with your college professor, that jerk that teaches that incredible crap course, Contemporary Crisis in Western Man...

Annie Hall: Existential Motifs in Russian Literature. You're really close.

Alvy Singer: What's the difference? It's all mental masturbation.

or this:

Alvy Singer: Don't you see the rest of the country looks upon New York like we're left-wing, communist, Jewish, homosexual pornographers? I think of us that way sometimes and I live here.

or for that matter every other conversation in the movie. I'm not surprised that Annie Hall simply defeated American legend Star Wars at Oscars. But then Woody Allen doesn't believe in Awards.

This is what Alvy has to say about awards: "What's with all these awards? They're always giving out awards. Best Fascist Dictator: Adolf Hitler."

The movie has style, and that is not only cinematic. You can't help but notice all those experimental things Keaton is wearing. I don't want to go on and on ranting about how Alvy's surname is 'Singer' and Annie's 'Hall' and all that. It is undoubtedly, one of Allen's best creation and a great lesson in history of cinema.