I don’t remember when it happened but somewhere and at some point in time, I stopped believing in love stories. It so happened that once the idea of true love went missing in my heart, I started to drift away and got lost in the market of cheap entertainment, it was instant gratifications that robbed me of the opportunities of waiting with dignity for real love.
Words came easy to me once when describing any piece of art, literature, or music that moved me. I used to find my innocence when I found stories that were so beautifully unreal that they seemed divine. But lately, love stories appeared cornier and cornier and the stories became so predictable that even if I watch a love story (which I generally avoid), it fails to move me. Today, after watching the late-night show of Sita-Ramam, I feel I have found that old believer in me. I am glad he is still there, believing in the idea of magical love. This film was so complete in experience that it will remain with me. Sita-Ramam is a modern-day classic and in the present tinder age, it has rekindled a hope in me that it is okay to be lost as long as you have the strength to find yourself again and again. These films sure help you by nudging you in the right direction. It is okay to make mistakes, but don’t belittle yourself, don’t trade your innocence, your purity, and your divinity for instant gratification. Let emotions pass through you, and have the courage to accept the emotions in their raw form. Don’t redefine them by processing them and re-branding them. Find those moments which help you in retaining your belief in the divine working of the macrocosm. Sita-Ramam is just another plain love story, but it speaks beyond the well-crafted frames and eye-catching scenes. It is yet another passionate film-making where everyone involved believed in the art they were creating and I’m glad I witnessed the magic on the big screen.
Going through the first few pages of ‘Veronika decides to die’, I came across this non-compos-mentis thought (google it silly), ‘what’s the easiest way to die?’ I have confidence in believing that most must have thought of this senile and bizarre idea at some point in their life. But the more I ponder upon this idea, I come to no conclusion, I mean think about the pain that will accompany you till you reach the brink of your death. Death is always painful, to you first and to others later. To believe no one else cares for you and going all misanthrope with your thoughts, just for one moment think about the leftover of you and by leftover I mean your dead body to be precise. Die either way; remains of you are not going to perish away without being a cumbersome leftover for others. But let this idea on rest for this time, plunging back to the previous thought, ‘how many easy ways are there to die?’ Let me put it straight - none. If you still let tempestuous thoughts of dyi...
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