Time to go?

Awakening (1990)

Director: Penny Marshall

In this film, we see Robin Williams portraying his Patch Adams character. To be honest, he adopted the Patch Adams role much later, specifically in 1998. Here, Williams plays the part of a doctor, Dr Malcolm Sawyer, who has social anxiety and works at a hospital with patients suffering from chronic illnesses, predominantly post-encephalitis cases. It is based on a true story that took place in a Bronx hospital during the summer of 1969. 

He develops a keen interest in a man, Leonard Lowe (Robert De Niro), who had been in a catatonic state for 30 years following a brain infection. Dr Sawyer uses a newly discovered drug, L-DOPA, originally used for Parkinson's disease, to try it on his patients. He achieves remarkable results. All the post-encephalitis patients—those who contracted the illness during the 1930s epidemic—in that centre recover, striving hard to adapt to the chaotic world of the late 1960s.

Soon, the effects of the medicine fade, and the patients slip back into their previous dull states. The core of the story revolves around Leonard, who, having arrested development at about eight years old, is thrust into a life thirty years ahead, akin to being tossed into the deep end of the pool without floaters. Before he can settle into his new life, it is time to go.

The story is an allegory of life itself, suggesting belief in rebirths. One is thrust into this birth, essentially with a clean slate. As the ancient Greeks believed, as mentioned in Plato's Republic, the souls of the dead must drink from the River Lethe to forget the memories of their previous births. The process of birth is a process of re-learning knowledge, in other words, re'mind'ing ourselves about life on Earth. 

Similarly, the characters in the film, who recover from the stupor of the unknown realm, are given a chance to live life. Before they become comfortable in their role, the opportunity is taken away unceremoniously. Such is life. One has a whole lifetime to learn how to live. When they are at their most vigorous, they lack wisdom. When wisdom arrives, the body loses its vigour to fight. This recurring cycle of forgetting and re-learning is an exercise in futility. If the karmic cycle is meant to punish past shortcomings, where will learning from and correcting previous mistakes take effect if memory is wiped clean? Only a select few souls are given the choice to draw from Mnemosyne (the River of Memory) to recall past life experiences and thus reach the end of the transmigration journey more swiftly. 

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The test of life?

Test (Tamil, 2025)
Director, Screenplay: S. Sashikanth

https://www.indiaglitz.com/test-review-tamil-movie-36143

I am not exceptionally knowledgeable about the nuances of how a cricket match is played. This much I do know: the team scores a six when the batter hits the ball out of the field. The hitter is dismissed if the wicket falls, and a Test match is not merely a test but a genuine match, established initially to challenge the English team against its colonies. It is an endurance test running typically over five days. Moreover, Indian cinema rarely produces authentic cricket films, unlike Hollywood, which often features baseball and American football games. I believe this is the first time an Indian film has been made with cricket at the centre of the story. 

Another point: Due to security concerns, the Indian cricket team will not play in Pakistan or vice versa. Therefore, it would be wishful thinking to expect the Pakistan team to face their archrivals, India, at Chepauk Stadium in Chennai, as suggested in this film. 

The film did not have a particularly stellar outing. Reviewers complained about its exceedingly slow pace and numerous plot gaps, especially those related to the game's technical aspects. Nevertheless, the message behind the story is less about the storyline and more about the challenges the two main (and perhaps three) characters face to achieve success. 

On one side, there is Sara, a frustrated MIT graduate with an epoch-changing water-fuelled engine but no sponsors to help get it off the ground. He must contend with running a canteen with his friend while being caught in the middle-income trap. Meanwhile, his anxious wife, Kumudha, hears her biological clock ticking away and requires a large sum of money to undergo IVF. Sara has become entangled with some unscrupulous loan sharks. 

In the affluent part of town, there is an over-the-hill national cricketer named Arjun, who risks exclusion from the national team. His son thinks the world of him, but sadly, Arjun feels he is no longer a true hero.

Arjun's son attends the same school where Kumudha teaches, and Kumudha's father was once Arjun's cricket coach. Their paths cross again through the son. In a twisted turn of events, Sara abducts Arjun's son for money. Loan sharks also become involved. They run a betting ring and hope India loses their match. They persuade Sara to pressure Arjun into conceding the match to Pakistan's win.

Thus, the test referenced in the film does not relate to the test match, but rather to the trial that the three characters must endure to do what is right. For Sara, is being the provider for his wife (and soon-to-be family) the only way to prove himself as a good husband? At any cost, even if it is illegal?

Is having a child the only goal for Kumudha as a married woman? She was seen gleefully rejoicing when the money she so desperately needed for her IVF appeared in her account. Is it right to kidnap for cash?

The test for Arjun, the cricketer, is whether he should prioritise his self-interest in regaining his son by sacrificing the game or embrace his patriotic duty and focus on winning the match for India.

As anticipated, once the hornet's nest is disturbed, there is no going back. One must do what one must to prevent any repercussions. When the calm water is disturbed, the ripples will reach a crescendo before settling into a steady state, yet nothing is ever the same again. 

No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.

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Like a 'turn-turtled' tortoise?

Kasaba (The Small Town, Turkish; 1997)

Director: Nuri Bilge Ceylan

 When we were young, we were told this and that. We were given the impression that if we followed that prescribed path, everything would be okay. Do not stray away from that, and all will be alright. Nobody told us about the shifting goalposts and the unforeseen variables. Our parents wanted us to be a level better than them. That kind of reinforced upon us that they were an embarrassment. We did not want to be anything else but a mould of them. We strive and strive. Still, in the end, like it or not, we would end up thinking of them, thinking like them and repeating all the things they once told and found nonsensical.

Nature has other plans. A mishap here and a liaison with the wrong company there. It is mindboggling what disastrous effect a dead parent or a disappearing parent has on the children. Even political turmoil or a natural catastrophe may upset the children's path to adulthood. Little things like the company we keep may alter the trajectory of our lives. Little decisions made at the spur of the moment or even much deliberation can have unexpected outcomes. It is what it is, and it is not in the best interest to brood about life that could have been. Instead, we should try to maximise the rut that we are in. 

This slow-moving story lays down just that. It is centred around a family sitting around a fire roasting corn and opening up about their respective lives. They have a problem with the lack of opportunities in the small village. What starts with the children wanting to hear stories snowballs into something big. The elders bemoan the hardship endured in their lives. One of the younger men feels slighted. He is probably having PTSD after serving in the Army. He just cannot get himself back on his feet again. In his youth, he just wanted to get the hell out of his village. Now, it seems he cannot get himself out. Another, despite his high overseas academic qualifications, wastes his time in the village. 

Ironically, everyone wants to go out far and wide to explore the world, but in their silver years, they return to their hometown to spend their remaining and die to be buried among their loved ones.

Even though we fantasise about our childhood as innocent, carefree and stress-free, the reality is far from it. Children can be pretty nasty. The vile that comes out from their mouth can be quite caustic. Not all of their actions can be viewed as adorable and cute. Many are bullies and can be physical with no remorse. To top it up, he will eventually not be punished for their actions. The people receiving their maleficence will just have to pick themselves up and grow some fortitude.

The presentation also includes many eye-catching black-and-white photographs of the Turkish countryside and many interesting still shots. 

Many of us turn out alright, escaping the hardship that befell our parents and the ones before them. Some are not so lucky. They are like the upturned tortoise in the movie. The 'turn turtle' tortoise in this arrested state is a metaphor for being stuck in a situation, struggling but just unable to rescue himself from his predicament.

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What do people want, really, really want?

Dhal Lake, Srinagar.

A few weeks before my planned cycling trip from Srinagar to Leh, Ladakh, unrest occurred in Jammu. Stone pelters went into action but were swiftly put under control by police. That did not stop any of my naysayer friends from forewarning me of the worst.

Others quickly blurt that one needed about a week to acclimate to high-altitude sports. We had a one-and-a-half-day acclimatisation before climbing the hills for about a week. On top of that, we had acetazolamide to help in that aspect.

The plan was to cycle from Srinagar to Leh (Khardunga, optional), covering about

500km and an elevation of over 7,200m in about 8 days. So it was Srinagar to Sonamarg, Sonamarg to Drass, Drass to Kargil, Kargil to Budkharbu, Budkharbu to Nurla, Narlu to Leh.

Contrary to what I had heard, I did not feel hostility. The only semblance of possible unrest is the military presence throughout the journey. People were seen doing their daily chores. Construction was everywhere, a sign that the political climate was conducive. Lorries were seen transporting local produce. National highways have been tarred recently and are in different stages of work in progress. Vans and SUVs were aplenty, with tourists thronging this region, another proof that everything was in order.

Lovely in Ladakh

Guest homes, lodges and motels are filled with foreign and local visitors.

So, I asked myself, what does an average Joe want in his life? He wants so many things in his life; the more, the merrier. The bottom line for all these to happen is peace. He should be confident to work hard, knowing well that he can reap the

benefits of his hard work for himself and future generations. He must have peace of mind and know that tomorrow will not bring unexpected maladies. He has to be confident that there will still be a roof over him when he gets up tomorrow. He would

want his offspring better than what he is, which must be a notch better than his forefathers.

He does not care who is his leader. He is interested in something other than whether his race is superior to that of his neighbours. In his mind, everything starts from nothing and goes to nothingness. For him, religion is a mere guide to pave his life. He does not need to prove to others that his religion is the true one. For each, his is the way. Just need to live and let live.

So, all this desperate madness to race and religious supremacies mean nothing to the man on the street.

What he really wants is peace and to provide for his loved ones

Sunset at Lake Dhal

Over Zojila Pass, Srinagar to Sonamarg.

Sonamarg, Kashmir.

Elevation Profile

Fotula Pass

Leh, Ladakh. Evening market

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What were they even thinking of?!

Lately, many have asked, 'What was he/she/they thinking? ' I do not believe they are expecting an answer from me. Perhaps they expect me to nod, quietly agree or squeak out some filler words like hmm..., not to react, disagree or object.

"What was he thinking? He had such a nice family, wife and beautiful kids. And gave up all that for a young chick?"

"He had everything going here. But that was not good enough. He had to sell off everything and root himself in a foreign land. Look at him now. What was he thinking?"

"In school, my best friend gave me a bar of soap. A bar of soap! Can you imagine? What was she even thinking of? ...that I stink?" 

It is not our business to judge others. We are only in a position to tell if we walk a mile in their shoes. Everything they do must have been debated internally with some soul-searching and introspection before making decisions. All the dos and don'ts must have been viewed from all angles, especially when it involves life-changing choices. Sometimes it is a calculated gamble. Other times, it may be desperation or the threat of the unknown. 

One must remember the decisions made at the heights of hormonal deluge in the spring of youth when the affairs of the heart supersede rational thinking. The ability to rationally weigh the pros and cons gets lost in emotion. Not to forget that as life becomes more bogged down by the strains of modern life, a clear mind is becoming an increasingly rare commodity. Decisions made by a deranged mind, assaulted by birth traumas, childhood traumas, genetic aberrations or pharmaceutical alterations also impair rational decision-making. 

Many resort to religions or gatekeepers of religions to make life-altering decisions, assuming that the path most travelled will be devoid of thorns and pebbles. How about invoking the powers of seers and the spirits of the dead? They could guide us. And astrology and the gravitational forces of celestial bodies that control our moods and fate…?

Now, with so many variables, I wonder if many of our actions are mere reflexes that bypass the higher centres. We work on impulses, outsource them to others or follow the crowd. Or maybe they already have something good going for them. They had assessed everything and had a ready plan going for them. Our assessments do not mean anything to them.

But then, one cannot help but question what they were thinking of when people aged 60-something, 70 or even 90 who live on borrowed time with one foot on the grave are hellbent on disturbing the peace. Rather than leaving a mark on the right side of history, they insist on the destructive and divisive way. They justify their action by quoting sacred texts and traditions and wanting to continue the struggles of their ancestors who did not know much. Undoubtedly, the present generation must be wiser. 

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We built this city!

Once upon a time in Calcutta (2021)
Director: Aditya Vikram Sengupta

Like Mother Nature @ Bhoomadevi, who has seen it all, like the dinosaurs' passing, and various primates and species morphing into Homosapiens, great cities have seen it all too.

Admittedly all cities expanded and developed to their present glorious states, not via virtuous paths but through acts of sin. Show me one still-standing city that did not benefit from actions considered unholy transactions. They all benefitted from shady nightlife activities, brothels, alcohol, smuggling, racketeering, and robbing, you name it. 

Still, life goes on. Umpteen people migrate to cities daily with a chest full of hope. Many manage to improve their lives, breaking their backs, sleepless but with a restless dream with the sole intention of climbing the ladder of success. Some falter, crushed by their enormous goals, obviously too big for the shoulders to carry. The city has seen the successes, the decadence, the swindling and the ploys. Its duty is not to punish. It merely records to play for anyone willing to hear the lessons of what lurks behind the bright city lights.

As far as nostalgia is concerned, Calcutta must surely be a city that has many tales to tell. After functioning as the capital of the British Empire and later as the site of many bloody turmoils following Partition, its past must be painted in blood, sweat and tears. Now, in 21st-century independent India, it morphs yet again. Buildings and statues that were grand then have become eyesores and need to be deconstructed.

Against this background is where this movie is set.

Ela is an ageing actress who has many things on her plate. Her young daughter's death has drawn her to the bottle and destroyed her relationship with her husband. They live under the same roof but lead separate lives. Ela is trying to get a loan to buy a house to move out, but she has no money. She had spent all her savings on her daughter's illness.

Ela may jointly own her late father's old and run-down family house. The problem is that Ela's late mother was a cabaret dancer and her father's mistress. Ela's half-brother, Bubu, blames the mistress for his own mother's suicide and refuses to give Ela any access to the property.

Bubu gets increasingly paranoid about his servants. The almost single Ela has suitors of her own. She reconnects with her old flame, and a proprietor of a Ponzi scheme showers her with gifts. The ugly side of the whole city network soon comes to the surface. The Ponzi scheme collapses, and Ela's old flame's new highway collapses. 

It appears that city is a scavenger and is hungry for more and more, but remember that people make cities.

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