WritersWorld

Duma Xan

Duma is a 2005 film directed by Carroll Ballard.
©Warner Bros. Pictures

Xan’s life changed forever. He didn’t change his path; he walked on the path that was meant for him.

Everything revealed slowly and transformed him and made him aware. Xan cared for Duma, loved Duma to an extent that he started understanding him completely.

Though he accepted it only at the last moment, he somewhere always knew that Duma deserves to live a free life.

The laughs, the games, the tears, the silent talks were soon going to be nothing but shared moments stored in an old box kept somewhere in the past.

All Xan knew was that he could open that box anytime and relive those memories – memories of his late father and his lovely friend, Duma.

Xan often thought about Duma and the time they said goodbye to each other. At first, he was skeptical, he thought Duma might be upset with him for leaving, but then, he realised that it was the right thing to do.

He closed his eyes and saw Duma’s eyes –big, beautiful, and alive. Xan was hit by a gust of wind which slowly tried to calm him down and stayed with him until he smiled.

He told himself, ‘Duma must be with his friends right now, going down to the riverside or maybe already there… relaxing under the shade.’  

Xan and Duma.
The film is based on a children’s book How it Was with Dooms
that tells the true story of a young boy’s friendship with an orphaned Cheetah.
©Warner Bros. Pictures

Duma is sitting on a tree branch, one of his friends is sitting nearby and the other one is strolling in the bushes, just like that.

The sun rays are not falling on Duma, but his eyes are shining nevertheless. He can see Xan.    

Watch the trailer now

While these questions circle uneasily in our minds, “Duma” creates scenes of wonderful adventure. The stalled motorcycle is turned into a wind-driven land yacht. A raft trip on a river involves rapids and crocodiles. The cheetah itself plays a role in their survival. And the movie takes on an additional depth because Xan is not a cute one-dimensional “family movie” child, and Ripkuna is freed from the usual cliches about noble and helpful wanderers. These are characters free to hold surprises in the real world.

Roger Ebert, the film critic.
Read his review of Duma here.

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I Forgot

Where are my colours? [Source – Pixabay]

I was coming back. In the bus, people sitting attuned in silence, hypnotised to the bone, were no different from me until I looked outside the window with sleepy eyes, swaying without a reason. I wasn’t asleep. Whatever was passing was in a rush and I was in a deep slow-motion, so nothing matched.

A thought came to me and I started pondering over it. Gauged a bit about the thought and would have done more, written a few lines, but I forgot; whether I just forgot the thought or to pen down the thought or both, I don’t know.

It is really funny, the party lights seem to be dancing just because they are in a party. But in that sullen room where a solitary sullen bulb glows, no one dances. Rich place for getting scolded and for discussing the future. Who listens when the elders talk? Who listens when anyone talks?

My mind keeps running a never ending tape that I have to adhere to. Yet another thought that I wanted to work on, but I didn’t because of two reasons – I couldn’t find a pen and then I simply forgot to. Hah!

Could it be that while you are walking all alone, nothing changes in you, you are naively, accidentally, mistakenly moving with tranquility and when you are a part of a loud ‘what’s up-oh that-like really?’ crowd everything changes in you, you are then surrounded by absolute confusion and fear?

Changes that crawl and form a labyrinth inside, of which you stay completely unaware.

It can happen. I completely forgot that it can.

What I remember though is that I should make a card for my uncle and auntie. There is no occasion, but then cards aren’t meant only for some special, grand celebrations alone.

“Where are my colours?” Yes, I remember that and so one day I began. I half did it; learnt a good lesson though. Here it is in parts – 1) even if you are not a 10 year old, you can still spill water and make a fabulous mess and 2) (the best one) the comfort of your bed and using water colours is not at all a good combination.

Soon million tiny things around wage a war against you without even moving and you are certainly helpless. You’ll then not find the scissors, the only clean brush, pencil or eraser and as soon as you get up to take a stand, things fall and laugh at you.

My hands… they are muddy green and bluish… am I an alien?

Using water colours mean getting your hands dirty. Oh! This didn’t bother me when I was a kid. I very often made cards for all my friends, getting my hands dirty was never a problem. I guess, I just forgot this.


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Pierrot Le Fou

Review-Cum-Commentary
So after I watched Godard’s Pierrot Le Fou I went for an evening walk with a question in my mind.
 
Why did Marianne call him Pierrot? I left without an answer.
 
 

The Poster of Pierrot Le Fou, a film by Jean-Luc Godard

 
It was getting dark as slowly the fog from the mountains was covering the valley from all the sides. The clouds made a thundering noise at some distance. It was surely going to rain and I still didn’t take any umbrella.
 
The two dogs with me were extremely excited, they rarely worry. Rain or not, they are always up for a walk.
 
I have a habit of calling them not by their names. Funny, they always wag their tails. I guess I call them so because of what their personalities reflect as a dog.
 
So happy!
 
So excited!
 
Anyway, Pierrot Le Fou…what a ride! From eccentricity to understanding it, from the society to clashing with it, from love to killing it, from life to getting killed. It was about Pierrot…a single individual and the incidents that occur one after the other in his life.
 
Criss-cross, criss-cross we climbed down the mountain. My mind was quietly dealing with the same question – why Pierrot?
 
Was it because of his personality, did Marianne know him more than he knew himself?
 
It seems so, in fact, he was aware about it but was reluctant to accept this fact and that’s why he reminded her each time she called him Pierrot that his name is Ferdinand not Pierrot.
 
Suddenly, as I was busy thinking and talking at the same time, it started drizzling. We decided to go back. The dogs were as happy to return as they were when we left the house.
 
I started running and so did the dogs, it was raining heavily now. Climbing a mountain is tough. I was short of air soon and I stopped to get some.
 
The dogs also stopped, we were getting wet. Breathe, breathe, I told myself and started walking briskly. And then when the cool fog was all around and my nose felt very icy, the question in my mind escaped.
 
Panting heavily, trying to catch up with the two dogs, I felt truly in the moment…I was in the present.
 
As if someone was behind me with a gun, I ran so fast. The dogs were running next to me. It was downhill now and we increased our speed. ‘Thundering typhoons, run, run, run!’
 
I am sure about one thing, Marianne didn’t lie when she called him Pierrot. She was being honest with him.
 
But I don’t blame Pierrot either. After all, he was busy reading and contemplating all the time. Someone’s philosophy ruled him.
 
Pierrot, busy reading.
 
This is what he was reading.
 
We reached home, wet. I was smiling. I sat on the chair and looked at the view. The young tree in front, with green leaves, was playing ‘raindrops’ tune. I listened.
 
Then I felt that I know the answer to the question, finally, but couldn’t put it in words.
 
Oh! I remember one word though – emotions.
 

My Words Are Happy

Dance and sing and twist and turn and joy and love!
[Source – Pixabay]

I enjoy my handwriting these days. Rough, crude yet in a smooth flow is what I can term this style of handwriting. Each letter in the alphabet and every word in the sentence appear to be living to the fullest.

The ‘I’s and the ‘E’s gleefully try to tell me a funny story but cannot stop beaming. And all the ‘T’s look so tranquil as if they know everything. The ‘W’s and ‘B’s are acting fancy for some reason, they happen to be doing the twist. The ‘H’s don’t seem to be any different, they look just as happy as they always did to me.

Really, every word gives an impression of being happy with itself.

I am not reflecting on the fact that whether my words are happy every time I write or not, because I am simply very glad that it did happen. Quantity doesn’t matter, quality does.

It has also got something to do with the writer’s relationship with her words, her style of handwriting, her ideas, her life. Every little moment of connection is worth cherishing. And why not, when we all give so much attention to the little things that irk us, little things that make us smile should also be acknowledged.

Pour down your thoughts and then read them, you will get an answer. Yes, that too without knowing the question.


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The Mystical Mountains

 
Beyond the valley of the vanishing flowers and the green lake where nymphs are still said to be seen, lies the grand mountain range known everywhere as the Mystical Mountains. The journey for anyone to reach these mountains starts from within.
 
 
The traveller has to meditate for a long period of time, centering his attention on the Mystical Mountains. Then when it is destined, the traveller has a vision and what one sees becomes the first clue. Usually it is an animal that one sees; a dragon, a wolf, a snake or an eagle, it can be anything. The traveller then has to face the animal; if victorious, the animal becomes the traveller’s ally and shows the path ahead. Sometimes it takes a few days, a few months, a few years to cross the valley of the vanishing flowers and the green lake and sometimes one isn’t able to cross it at all. But the one who does reach the Mystical Mountains meets ecstasy.
 
Every individual is meant to be there and for each one the mountains hold a miracle, a mystery to be solved and a reward worth spending a lifetime for. Those who return from the Mystical Mountains come back with a task in hand to finish it in a definite period of time. Such a person is like a Samurai, a Monk, a Yodha, untroubled by the material bonding and full of the life force. The magnanimity of such a few selected ones attracts the like-minded and gives them the idea about the spectacles that awaits them in the Mystical Mountains. Thus, a new mind, a new traveller set for a new journey to reach the Mystical Mountains, taking the first step to look within. 

A Lot of Keys in the World

Short Commentary
“I have the grand key, yay, hmm, now I just need to collect the other 99.”
[Source – Pixabay]

There is a key ring because there is a key, there is a key because there is a cupboard, there is a cupboard because I have things to keep, and I have things to keep because I think I need them…I think I need them because I think so…I have a mountain of material things just because of the way I think.

I keep adding my possessions to this mountain, mostly trying to show off its grandeur, forgetting that I am the one who is carrying it.

These possessions are shiny and majestic in a strange way, but every time I try to talk to them, they just stare at me ambiguously, neither do they move nor do they accept that they are dead…my not-so-dead possessions don’t talk to me.

Am I complaining? I thought I’ll take umbrage at the point that my possessions are not enough and stop. I took a step further and bought another cupboard and worshiped the zillion gods online; it took days multiplied by nights subtracted by three quality thoughts and finally, I got success…a new key ring, for my new cupboard’s new key…all the shiny things beaming shamelessly at me.

Gradually, the three quality thoughts multiplied and I started feeling the weight of the mountain.

The quality thoughts then converged and I was left with only myself; it was calm and quiet then. I felt light just like a feather and I was happy. I woke up and faced the reality.

I don’t have the keys to most of my cupboards, I lost them, dropped them…it would be nice to think that I did that intentionally.


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By- My Friend

Seeing through their eyes. Image – Pixabay.

All we need is love…really?

I feel that more than love we need to have the ability to understand the loved ones in our life…we need to stop for a moment and see the other person without our preconceived notions.

I had this thought in my mind for a long time and I wanted to write about it. Recently, my dear friend unknowingly gave voice to my thoughts…and she did it so very beautifully.

What she has written is so true and accurate and apt to my feelings that I thought of sharing it with everyone else through this blog.

Here is what she wrote- 

UNDERSTANDING  

There are so many dimensions to each one of us, and the combination of all these dimensions results in our PERSONALITY. It is not something which can be pre-defined.

On the contrary, it is something which keeps on getting refined with every new day we face in our lives, through our varied experiences.  

We all think that ‘Understanding’ is an inherent personality trait we all are born with, that once we reach a particular age and maturity level, we automatically attain the level of understanding we ought to.

But I disagree. Understanding, according to me, is the most difficult as well as the most significant emotion we possess.

More so, it demands a certain level of effort: the effort to put one into the other person’s shoes and think the way he/she does, and not according to your own mind.

Only then would one be able to ‘Understand’ the other person’s perspective. And this equips the individual with another beautiful emotion – Empathy.  

This is the kind of Understanding we all demand from people we are close to, people we depend on, people we love, and majority of the times, they let us down.

Only because they think that they know us so well that they don’t even try for a split second to come out of their own selves and use all that they know about us to grasp things from our perspective.

We all have to always remember that nothing in this world comes for free: that for all important things, we have to invest our energies, either mentally, physically or emotionally to attain or retain something or someone in our lives.  

May god bless everyone with this ‘UNDERSTANDING’.  


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My Victory Smile!

‘Your turn’, said Soni.
 
My turn…well Miss my turn started long back when I moved my Pawn two steps forward.
 
I have been calculating that in an attempt to get my Bishop in the twelfth move, you’ll definitely charge at my poor, innocent and a bit careless Pawn sitting on b3 and that is why…holy god, just because of that I took my Rook to the third rank and you…you ruthless being…is this just a game for you? Ah!
 
And now, what are you trying to do? This is not a casual move, advancing your Knight to e4…what should I do? Hey! King, wake up dude…I am fighting this battle for you.
 
And dear Queen, don’t mind but I think you are afraid of the gorgeous Black Queen…she has taken some bold steps…our brave little Pawn, may his soul fight the dead Black Pawns fiercely down there and show them no mercy…no mercy!
 
But we have to focus, dear Queen, if you are jealous of her, knock her down and listen, all the Pawns, don’t leave the field without blood on your swords.
 
Ahm! Respected Bishops and Knights and others (I am angry with the Rooks and hence I am not going to address them directly, it is because of them that more of our people are down)….
 
‘GS! Your turn’, repeated Soni.
 
I simply nodded. See…did anyone notice? I knew it, she is trying to read my mind. Oh! Oh! Relax! Shanti Om!
 
Yes! I think I should take my Knight to 6f…bold!
 
My friend, listen to me, I know it is a bold step but just see, my Bishop and that Pawn will be guarding it, and actually it is not that risky a position.
 
And I have to show her, you know, that look Miss you better back up, I am as brutal as Brutus (I am not getting personal here Mr. Brutus, but now that is what you have earned). Oh! She is yawning now! Clever! Come on, come on dear Knight….
 
‘Hmm…good one GS’, exclaimed Soni.
 
I smiled…a sweet grin; I know my expressions, my left eyebrow rises every time I put up my victory smile.
 
Ha! So, finally she is thinking hard, she looks confused…good for me. I am sure she will bring forth the Queen now or nothing less than the Bishop.
 
I have read a lot about this game Miss…you will be defensive now. Psychology is involved in everything, this game is…what…a Pawn! A Pawn?
 
‘There…GS…’, said Soni meditatively.
 
There is something wrong here. A Pawn! And she didn’t take that long…oh…it’s my Knight she wants. Hmm! Hmm! Hmm!
 
(A long pause) Hmm!
 
‘Come on…GS?’, enquired Soni.
 
Oops! Why, why do I always make my opponents comfortable with the idea that I am confused and that is why it’s taking too long?
 
Wait! Ha-ha! Rook, after all you want to make up for your hasty decisions…good.
 
Rook to d6…yes Miss, I am challenging you now. What about her sly Black Bishop? Na, it will take three moves for the Bishop to get me. Yes!
 
‘Oh!’, said Soni.
 
I have surprised her. She just can’t believe it. Hah!
 
‘Really?’, said Soni.
 
I think she has a habit of  thinking out loud. Poor girl! What will she do now? Her King looks as bewildered as she is right now.
 
Maybe she will fight with her Queen or her Rooks…but the latter ones just stand in every game that I have played with her.
 
She definitely knows that her only Bishop can’t do much…wait…when did her Knight reached f3…and her silly, stupid, puny Pawn reached h3?
 
Where is my rascal Rook! Oh!
 
‘Checkmate!’, said Soni. She smiled her victory smile.
 

*

This post is inspired by the games these two mavericks are busy playing all the time.

Mama Don Soni, she always wins no matter what.
[Photo credit – Nirupama Thakur]
Ghumpu Shimpu (GS), Soni’s silly boy, he is always happy [he is singing ‘here comes the sun do-do-do’ in this photo].
[Photo Credit – Eddy]

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In Retrospect, I Think I Know What Alice Said

Alice
Image by pasja1000 from Pixabay

It was the Wonderland, Alice’s Wonderland, but she wasn’t there.

I felt very strange and thought of looking for her, but the very next moment this thought slipped away, dancing in front of my eyes and I stood there, smiling, I even said, ‘cheers’.

The tall trees were beautifully dressed in different shades of green, all of them together, creating a heavy and velvety canopy; mossy green sky with blue flowers and pretty birds singing sweetly all the time. Wonderland!    

When I wished to walk and explore the place, the earth showed a fresh path to me, it whispered to me, ‘this way’, and so I hopped ahead.

To my right, an endless celebration of lights and colours captured my mind. Every time red and green merged and sparkling yellow joined the blue, I took a halt to witness the magic.

Once, while the magical colours were reveling beautifully, I heard someone calling me from behind a huge tree. It was a talking tree and its name was ‘Alive’.

Alive
Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Alive gave me a green leaf and asked me to put it in my purple bag. Only then did I realise that I was carrying a small purple bag. I did what Alive told me to do and moved ahead.

After that I met ten such trees – ‘Humble’, ‘Brave’, ‘Love’, ‘Mad’, ‘Pure’, ‘Kind’, ‘Dream’, ‘Courage’, ‘Wise’, and ‘Happy’ – they all gave me leaves to put it in my purple bag. Doing as told, I kept on hopping ahead.

When I danced, the leaves in the purple bag danced along and when I sang, they played music with me.

At night when the wonderland looked silvery dark, I sometimes cried, afraid to wake up and break the magic and end the wonderland journey.  

The leaves in my purple bag cried along, the leaves were just copying me and their failed attempt always made me laugh. The leaves were my best friends now.

A lotus flower near a moon-shaped pond.
Image by ArtTower from Pixabay

Years passed in a day while I was looking at a lotus flower near a moon-shaped pond, under a giant mango tree. And all these years, I just kept looking at the lotus flower and kept smiling. Lovely life!

A caterpillar woke me up from meditation and asked me to take a ride with him; he said he was tired but had to offer me a tour because of the tradition of the place.

I warmly accepted and sat on him, but he refused to move until I gave him a coffee cigarette. ‘Coffee cigarette?’, I thought aloud and told him that I have never heard about such a thing.

With a smirk he asked me to check my purple bag and so I did, to my shock, I found one beautiful, golden brown looking coffee cigarette in it.

Blushing red, I gave it to him, he lighted it up and soon I could smell rich coffee in the air.

And then the roller coaster ride started.

The caterpillar took me to different countries in a flash and then to the past and future, underwater and in space, infinity and beyond, through colours and lights, and when we reached the music station, I asked him to stop.  

Every music instrument was playing, the waves in the air forced everyone present to dance to the beats; from samba to jazz, ‘ring-a-ring-a-roses’ to classical dance, I did everything.

I even got drunk, who can refuse a glass full of joy anyway? The rhythm lingers, as fresh as it can be, even now. My hands sometimes do the jingles on the table and my legs do the twist while walking.

At the colourful carnival.
Image by Juanita Mulder from Pixabay

I also remember attending a carnival, but what happened there exactly can’t be expressed in words. I have images in my mind and when I try to put them into words I end up painting and when I try to speak about it I end up singing.

The images are rich in colours and also smell of geniality. You must see them.

The journey was going to end, I knew it. The caterpillar said, ‘farewell’ and shook hands with me, leaving me alone with my purple bag.

On the rough road I walked ahead, dragging my purple bag that had surprisingly become ten times heavier than its original weight.

I sat on a funny looking rock to rest and started sobbing; a single drop fell on the ground and the place slowly started flooding with water. The rock didn’t sink, instead floated, funny indeed.

The rock took me to the shore and I was glad to see someone human. It was the Hatter.

He offered me some tea, but before I could drink the tea he asked me to sit and before I could sit he asked me to pass him the spoon from the far end of the table and before I could do it, he asked me, rudely, to go back from where I came, indicating a huge mirror with cursive letters as its frame, adding that he found me very lazy.

Astonished and confused, I took a step forward, suddenly the March Hare came forward from somewhere and asked me to let Alice go free.

He tried to snatch my purple bag and the Hatter joined him; I was winning until the Dormouse came there and tickled me. ‘Hurrah, hurrah’, they ran round and round the table, leaving the purple bag behind.

Magic happens thrice every day. Did you feel it today?

Flamingos feel the magic thrice everyday.
Image by Esmaylin Arguello from Pixabay

The eleven leaves came out of the purple bag and swirled slowly, then quickly, beautifully, and changed in a blinks time into Alice.

My eyes were full of happy tears. I wanted to meet Alice, she was smiling at me, and I wanted to talk to her about the wonderland. But that jealous Dormouse and March Hare came running towards me and pushed me into the giant mirror.

I saw Alice holding the Hatter’s hand, she said something to me, but I couldn’t understand it clearly.

Either she said, ‘Laugh and look up-up-up’ or ‘Pancake chocolate syrup-up-up’. Does it make any sense?

I’ll have to stop and think so that I can decode it and write and paint these words again and again.

What you said Alice sounded so sweet and true… I am sure I am on the right track.    

The right track that Alice also took.
Image by prettysleepy1 from Pixabay

With the vibrations of Alice’s words still alive and so many green leaves around me, am I out of or still in the Wonderland?   I am crazy enough to know.


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Subtracted World

Non nobis solum – not for thyself alone.
[Source – Pixabay]

I am the King and the Queen,

Of my subtracted world,

From my bedroom to where my smartphone takes me,

It’s shinning and laughing with glee.

Walking on the road, I hit a plastic bottle

‘High Score!’ cried my smartphone, when a little

Skinny girl pulled my sweater

Dirty hands open up… there was a letter

Crumpled, old and torn…ah, useless

I thought, but still checked it, to find two words

Remember Addition?


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