Lapses of lingy…

Have to review a movie tomorrow, one which has run into a sea of controversy over the protrayal of a sexual relationship between a priest and a young woman.

How predictable can society get!

Anyways, will reserve my comments till tom. I need to figure if the sex shown is in good taste or not.

However, I do believe that we make too big a deal of sex.

We had a problem with a Milind Soman and Madhu Sapre posing in the buff( though personally, thought the ad was rather tastefully done, not to mentioned how much I swooned over Milind completely. )

We had a problem with rape scenes in Bandit Queen.

We have a problem with porn films being made legal.

Why does society view sex as something which is threathening? In fact it’s so much more peaceful than say violence, with the exception of rape, paedophilia and when someone is forced into prostitution.

It’s something that truly baffles me.

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I think Black is beautiful, even though many may beg to differ.

To each his own.

I had a lovely weekend.

I watched Black and Finding Neverland.

I attended a music concert at Elephanta Caves along with some of my bestest friends in the world. This merited a ferry ride which took 60 minutes one way, from the mainland to the caves. With the wind in our hair and the chill in our teeth and toes, we huddled together and relished every minute of conversation and repartees.

The concert wasn’t in the caves, but on the same island as the caves. There was a little stage and an amphitheatreish kind of ambience. There were banyan trees and hanging vines above our heads.

We sat on mattresses and propped ourselves up comfortably on bolsters.

There was an Odissi dance performer, a celebrated one at that performing. I didn’t care much for the performance, but I enjoyed the ambience.

I enjoyed the santoor recital by Rahul Sharma. It seemed to gel better with the mood of the evening.

It was a weekend well spent.

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AM I CHANGING?

I am currently exploring the effects of work-related stress, in an urbane environment, and am beggining to wonder, am I falling prey to this big-city- intense-competition syndrome myself?

Many buckle under the pressure.

Many change.

Some people say, I am a changed person. I am definitely grappling to keep pace with a dynamic, challenging environment.

But am I really changing?

I quizzed a good friend yesterday about it, and he said that I do indeed ’sound’ different.

According to my friend, there’s a new undertone in my voice. It emanates a sense of surety and sounds an ultimatum.

Is this good or bad, I asked him?

It’s great he says, because I sound more confident and sure of things.

But it’s the transition phase that’s tough on me, and once you get through that, all will be well. So, he promises.

I hope, I make the trasition well, without upturning too many boats. :) 

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The great thing about my new job is that it’s teaching me to be more disciplined.

Yup, it has jumstarted all my senses, like caffeine for numbed nerves.

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Sunday evening saw me at Cafe Mocha, getting my handwriting deciphered by a professional graphologist.

I had to write 5 lines of text and put my signature at the bottom of the page. It was a completely voyeuristic experience in a way, because we were 5 of us friends, highly interested in knowing about each other’s alter or inherent personalities.

Mine came up as a pleasant surpruise.

On the flip side, I am highly indisciplined. And in the face of doing something totally monotonous, I just bail out, which is all fine. But if it’s a life or death siation then I could be doomed! Other than that he does think I am a wee bit emotionally warped. I’m also not expressive when it comes to real issues for fear of upsetting the status quo of any relationship.

On the good side, he said I am very creative and have a good potential to be a performer. Ideally I should be in the acting profession.

I’m also determined to succeed in my career and am currently on an ascending spiral, by virtue of the tilt in upward tilt of my signature.

That was cool!

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Yesterday, I went to my local ironing man to pick up some shirts.

3 little men work in a tiny outhouse diligently from 6 am to 12 pm.

They charge Rs 2 per piece of clothing.

The room is like a hothouse of air.  

They sport tattered clothes, but always wear a smile.

I felt a tinge of sadness,  just a smattering of pity, but a lot of admiration for these pygmy-like men who toil hard and stand tall.

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