September 17, 2012


Barfi is a dream in a bubble, as magical as the scenes that make it whole. This movie was created because it is a story someone desperately wanted to tell. Each frame, you see, has been created with such love and tenderness. More than a movie, it is an ode to dreams and laughter and love, unsullied. The story is so heartrendingly poignant that you cannot help but be pulled into it. You want to be there, live with the characters. You want to be like Barfi, take things as it comes and let life happen to you. For isn't life always right? You finally do reach where you were meant to be. No matter how tough the journey is. I love stories that speak of love. No cheap gimmicks, no lengthy tirades, no profession of glory. Just love. Barfi does that; it wraps around your heart like cottony clouds over green fields on an overcast day, and fills you with such longing and happiness. There are butterflies and fireflies, wide open fields and hand drawn carts; there is background music, and there are dancers in costumes. More than anything, the landscape leaves you breathless, and you want it all. You want to ride in those trains in Darjeeling, you want to watch the sun set over Howrah bridge, and you want to roam the busy streets of Kolkata.

And the emotions, well, they just take you by surprise. There is an underlying tone of pathos, but it's woven in so beautifully that even as you watch Barfi mourn his dad, or nurse his broken heart, you cannot help but smile. By the time he finally finds the one person he knows will be his forever, you have a lump in your throat, and you want this to be true. You know he will survive no matter what, but still you want this happy ending. For isn't this how life moves on. With twists of fate that you outlive, knowing that life has more to give you.

Even as I try hard to figure out why he would fall in love with an autistic girl who seems to trust
him more than anyone, I know. Love doesn't seek reasons. It is not something you plan. The beauty of this movie is that it is utterly devoid of cynicism. I know stories like this, I've dreamed
them up. A world so empty of bitterness and practicality, it makes you believe. Well, it
certainly did make me believe once again. We often argue, and possibly prove our point when
we talk about love. Love needs to be practical. Else, all we'll be left with is a lifetime of misery.
Isn't that what we convince ourselves? We cheat ourselves, don't we? Why can't it be the silent
comfort of knowing that no matter how tough it gets, there is someone who'll sleep with their
finger entwined with yours, someone who will brighten your day by shining mirrors at you, or
welcome you wholeheartedly when you're back? Isn't love that longing to be welcomed home, that urge to play the fool so that you hear loud laughter, those silly little things you dream up to
make each day worthwhile. And mostly, the sweet comfort of knowing you're cherished.

Barfi is a fairytale crafted beautifully, with humor and sweetness. Stories like this have no purpose, they are created by people who love the idea of life.
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September 14, 2012

fifty nine

While i sit here
Sifting my thoughts
My thousand moods
Flying at you
Like an exaltation of larks.
I watch you dodge them
And i hope,
You'd catch but one.

There is so much i say
When i leave things unsaid
So much i hold inside
When i tell it all.
We could be perfect,
Like the dreams we see
But then i would miss you teasing me
And you would miss me, wooing you.

Do the long lazy nights and silliness matter anymore?
Do sulking and laughter become us?
Maybe, when i am old and grey
I'd still play games with you.
Tell you you're wrong, after cheating at chess
Or just watch you rage, when i steal your thoughts.
Tease you over your funny sneezes
Outdrink you maybe, and still be fine.

Maybe, i would want to
Make up for lost days
Through fifty nine monsoons, with nights storylike.
Maybe i would bore you, maybe add spice
But hope you know this, the years, they promise to be nice
Like the girl who claims to be so,
Night after night.
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