I did a wee bit of catching up this last month.Two things-one a movie and the other, a book. I hesitated to do both because one seemed an overhyped bit of nonsense and the other, was like doing something knowing before hand that it would end badly.
Let me do the movie first. I have heard people go gaga over Bahubali. I have a niece who breathes Prabhas and her dps used to amuse me. Our school whatsapp group had a whole,"Why did Kattaappa kill Bahubali ?" thing going. I had a friend here try to convince me into watching it on her big screen TV. I wasn't interested.
And then Netflix started streaming it. Both the beginning and the conclusion. So the above mentioned question wouldn't keep me awake at night! I took the bait.
Yes, it was a good movie-a thorough entertainer. it reminded me of 'Crouching Tiger,Hidden Dragon' a lot.The CGI was almost there but somehow certain spots were iffy, but overall was thrilling to watch. I've always been an Amar Chitra Katha fan and so it was like characters leapt to life from those books.
Ramya Krishnan literally ate up the screen.All three main female protagonists were impressive, but she was by far the most mesmerizing to watch.
Prabhas was not a familiar face to me at all-even Rana was familiar from one of Ajith's movies. I somehow did not feel like his demeanor suited the role-there was something off. I watched some other movie of his to figure out how he looked in real life. Bahubali did not do him justice I felt. But that was just me.
So that was the happy catching up.
Now to the other side of the coin.
I had read about Paul Kalanidhi and his cancer diagnosis and his writings a few years ago and I remember reading about his passing and later about his book. Somehow I never did want to read it. Life snuffed out at its prime-not good reading material. Especially if it is authored by the person fighting the losing battle.
My library jaunts brought me face to face with the book quite a few times and sometimes it used to be held by a patron, which meant that I couldn't check it out.That assuaged my guilt.But good times last only so long.Last month,the book was returned, there were no holds on it, and I was holding it in my hands contemplating my indecision, when I assertively put it aside with my phone( which is more than an accessory these days!) and checked it out at the end of my shift.
It sat around the house for a few more days before I picked up the -courage would not be the right word- indifference(one had to be inured to the feeling of loss ) to read it.
And I read it at almost one go. By the time I was done, I was in tears.
Such potential. A neurosurgeon, but to me, his writing is what the world lost.The book felt like poetry-smooth,lyrical and engrossing. His thoughts, his decisions regarding his future and his stoicism in the face of such a prognosis had me rooting for him to win this battle, but like I said earlier, reading this was torture knowing that the person you were rooting for had already lost the battle. No amount of platitudes will assuage that sense of loss.
It was painful to read of his end and how his wife took up the writing after his passing. My thoughts went out to his child-who would hear about her father and the legacy he left behind, but would not remember him, his loving touch, his presence.
But the world goes on..life goes on..
Lost potential was what went through my mind and then it struck me-everyone has a quota of life written to them. So at the end of it one cannot measure what could have been.What matters is what was. And for people like us, what is. Live life well and leave good memories behind. It is all in the memories-my brother's loss is still raw in my heart.As I type this, I am looking up at his photograph hanging on my living room wall and tears fill my eyes. But what he left behind is precious. The memories are fresh,they will never fade-his voice still rings in my ear and I can almost feel his presence.
So I've rethought my concept of lost potential -life is here and now-it is what you leave behind to remember you by, not what you could possibly have done or been if you had more time, that matters.
Live life well...make friends, help others, have fun and thank God for the opportunity he gave you to be part of his creation. That way when our time comes, we will have no regrets -not about spilt milk, and not about milk yet to be churned!
Funny observation, completely unrelated to the heavy topic I discussed. But ironically, common to both things I wrote about. Reading the book and knowing he was Tamilian like me, I was expecting atleast a vague reference to something Tamil- nothing! But he was American - I'd almost forgotten- he has a perfect Tamil name, Kalanidhi and that threw me off.
I liked the opening song in the movie- - 'Siva Sivaye Potriye' and since I obviously watched it in Tamil, loved the lyrics. If you are Indian,you know enough about Hinduism to appreciate lyrics written about the God Shiva.But there was a comment thread on YouTube about how the Telugu and Hindi version had Sanskrit verses and how the Tamil version was not as good. Isn't understanding more important than standing on ritual? It brought to mind the Latin mass celebrated in churches until the second Vatican council decided to change things. I can not for the life of me imagine going to church and sitting an hour listening to the priest drone on in a language that was unfamiliar and therefore incomprehensible to me. And no, no one learnt Latin just for the express purpose of understanding the church service. Just ask my Dad! He used to be an altar server and to this day can recite all the Latin prayers but without an iota of understanding. Why?Why?Why?!
Let me do the movie first. I have heard people go gaga over Bahubali. I have a niece who breathes Prabhas and her dps used to amuse me. Our school whatsapp group had a whole,"Why did Kattaappa kill Bahubali ?" thing going. I had a friend here try to convince me into watching it on her big screen TV. I wasn't interested.
And then Netflix started streaming it. Both the beginning and the conclusion. So the above mentioned question wouldn't keep me awake at night! I took the bait.
Yes, it was a good movie-a thorough entertainer. it reminded me of 'Crouching Tiger,Hidden Dragon' a lot.The CGI was almost there but somehow certain spots were iffy, but overall was thrilling to watch. I've always been an Amar Chitra Katha fan and so it was like characters leapt to life from those books.
Ramya Krishnan literally ate up the screen.All three main female protagonists were impressive, but she was by far the most mesmerizing to watch.
Prabhas was not a familiar face to me at all-even Rana was familiar from one of Ajith's movies. I somehow did not feel like his demeanor suited the role-there was something off. I watched some other movie of his to figure out how he looked in real life. Bahubali did not do him justice I felt. But that was just me.
So that was the happy catching up.
Now to the other side of the coin.
I had read about Paul Kalanidhi and his cancer diagnosis and his writings a few years ago and I remember reading about his passing and later about his book. Somehow I never did want to read it. Life snuffed out at its prime-not good reading material. Especially if it is authored by the person fighting the losing battle.
My library jaunts brought me face to face with the book quite a few times and sometimes it used to be held by a patron, which meant that I couldn't check it out.That assuaged my guilt.But good times last only so long.Last month,the book was returned, there were no holds on it, and I was holding it in my hands contemplating my indecision, when I assertively put it aside with my phone( which is more than an accessory these days!) and checked it out at the end of my shift.
It sat around the house for a few more days before I picked up the -courage would not be the right word- indifference(one had to be inured to the feeling of loss ) to read it.
And I read it at almost one go. By the time I was done, I was in tears.
Such potential. A neurosurgeon, but to me, his writing is what the world lost.The book felt like poetry-smooth,lyrical and engrossing. His thoughts, his decisions regarding his future and his stoicism in the face of such a prognosis had me rooting for him to win this battle, but like I said earlier, reading this was torture knowing that the person you were rooting for had already lost the battle. No amount of platitudes will assuage that sense of loss.
It was painful to read of his end and how his wife took up the writing after his passing. My thoughts went out to his child-who would hear about her father and the legacy he left behind, but would not remember him, his loving touch, his presence.
But the world goes on..life goes on..
Lost potential was what went through my mind and then it struck me-everyone has a quota of life written to them. So at the end of it one cannot measure what could have been.What matters is what was. And for people like us, what is. Live life well and leave good memories behind. It is all in the memories-my brother's loss is still raw in my heart.As I type this, I am looking up at his photograph hanging on my living room wall and tears fill my eyes. But what he left behind is precious. The memories are fresh,they will never fade-his voice still rings in my ear and I can almost feel his presence.
So I've rethought my concept of lost potential -life is here and now-it is what you leave behind to remember you by, not what you could possibly have done or been if you had more time, that matters.
Live life well...make friends, help others, have fun and thank God for the opportunity he gave you to be part of his creation. That way when our time comes, we will have no regrets -not about spilt milk, and not about milk yet to be churned!
Funny observation, completely unrelated to the heavy topic I discussed. But ironically, common to both things I wrote about. Reading the book and knowing he was Tamilian like me, I was expecting atleast a vague reference to something Tamil- nothing! But he was American - I'd almost forgotten- he has a perfect Tamil name, Kalanidhi and that threw me off.
I liked the opening song in the movie- - 'Siva Sivaye Potriye' and since I obviously watched it in Tamil, loved the lyrics. If you are Indian,you know enough about Hinduism to appreciate lyrics written about the God Shiva.But there was a comment thread on YouTube about how the Telugu and Hindi version had Sanskrit verses and how the Tamil version was not as good. Isn't understanding more important than standing on ritual? It brought to mind the Latin mass celebrated in churches until the second Vatican council decided to change things. I can not for the life of me imagine going to church and sitting an hour listening to the priest drone on in a language that was unfamiliar and therefore incomprehensible to me. And no, no one learnt Latin just for the express purpose of understanding the church service. Just ask my Dad! He used to be an altar server and to this day can recite all the Latin prayers but without an iota of understanding. Why?Why?Why?!
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