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Another ghost story

Published
by
Deepak
on May 14, 2007
in Life etc. and Wacky Humor
. 19 Comments

Thursday evening was pleasant. I was back from office early that day and was planning on going out. I decided to take an auto. I walked the small distance through the alley where my apartment was. My muscles were spraining; I should walk more often. I reached the main road. Oddly enough, it wore a deserted look. The velvety brown of the evening sky was already fading into the blue silhouette of the moonlight.
There were no vehicles or human beings, or even dogs (There will at least be 3 stray dogs per street in Bangalore) in sight.
‘Oh dear, will I have to walk till Airport Road now to get an auto?‘, my lazy legs complained and my mind translated it to English.
I uttered a non-verbal spell (well! I didn’t utter in strict sense since it was non-verbal) to summon an auto. Even I was surprised to see an auto coming almost immediately behind me. I waved to him to stop. He didn’t seem to notice and passed me. Then the auto screeched to a halt about 10 feet ahead. I ran towards the auto.
The driver had a frightened look in his face. He looked at me, then looked down towards my feet, then again looked at me.
I too looked at my own feet, just by instinct. What was wrong with my feet?
‘Elli hogbeku saar?’, (Where to, sir?) he asked, anxiety resonating in every syllable that came out.
‘KR Puram’
‘I’ll go through the main road, is it okay?’
‘Okay’, I replied, not understanding what he meant by the last statement. I didn’t know of any shortcuts or alleys to my destination.

I got in and he started moving. He didn’t speak anything till we reached 100ft road. The looming silence instantly changed into ear-shattering din. I heard something like a gasp of relief coming from the driver.

He turned his head when we had stopped at a traffic signal and asked something like, “Kannada maathadubeka?” (Do you speak Kannada?)
I understood what he meant and replied, “Kannada gothilla” (I don’t know Kannada)
“Hindi?”
“Oh. Hindi is okay”
[ Rest of the conversation was in Hindi, mostly a monologue. Translated to English. Everything in italics is whatever I thought, but didn't say. ]
Driver: I almost escaped from that ghost today.
Me: What?
Driver: A ghost. She asked me for a ride. Said she will pay 200 rupees. Scared the shit out of me.
Me: *Oh really?*
Driver: She came in a car, said she wanted to go to ***** (I didn’t get the name of the place when he said it.) Offered to pay anything. These lady ghosts…once they enter our body, they will never leave us. Ask us all sorts of things. They won’t go until you die. You will be doomed.
Me: *Duh*
Driver: I just mustered enough courage to say No and get the hell out of there.
Me: Oh. Was that why you were driving so fast?
Driver: Obviously….She wanted to take me to a deserted place and possess me. After that, I would have no control over myself. I’ll lose my family and kids and will have to go after her. She won’t let me enjoy family life as I would have to satisfy her always.
Me: *[Evil grin]* You looked at my feet.
Driver: I was checking whether you were human; whether you had feet.
Me: Hehe. *Muhahahaha*
Driver: No sir, I was so freaked out. Really. In my village, we take special amulets and all from the priest. We are safe there. But there are no such safety precautions here in city.
Me: *All ghosts migrated to cities now. Yeah, I can see*
Driver: I think she was a Muslim ghost. That makes it even more difficult.
Me: Why so?
Driver: Because Hindu mantras won’t work on Muslim ghosts. You need Muslim mantras from Quran for those.
Me: *Boy! This is getting better and better*
Me: What did she look like? Was she wearing white saree?
Driver: I don’t know. She came in a car. Her hair was loose and wildly bushy. Her face was white.
Me: You mean fair skin?
Driver: No sir. It was white color. Like white paint was smeared. Only her eyes were brown.
Me: And she was driving a car.
Driver: Yes.

I suddenly remembered the ghost from the movie “The Ring”. Then the thought suddenly hit me squarely in my mind..like a 10-pin strike. It might just have been some ordinary lady who was careless enough to go out without removing her facial. The poor lady was mistaken for a ghost! Imagine her perplexed face when the driver had sped from her at breakneck speed!
Hell of a ghost story for me!!

I didn’t speak much for the rest of the journey. He was saying something, I just kept replying “Mm.Hmm”,”I see” etc. idly without listening to what he was saying.

We reached my destination. I checked the meter and gave him the money.
“One and a half meter charge, sir”
*Bloody hell! This guy had the nerves to ask for more money even in this condition.*
I argued, “What is the extra half for? Your ghost story?”

Love Story

Published
by
Deepak
on April 24, 2007
in Just Rambling and Life etc.
. 10 Comments

What is love?
Love is a score of zero. It usually is in Tennis. But it happens in life too.

He fell in love with her at first sight. He didn’t know why.
Was it her beauty?
She was not very beautiful, so to speak. She was not too tall, had freckles, but had a very pleasant fair face and beautiful short hair.
Was it her attitude?
I just said it was love at first sight. He hadn’t even talked to her.
Was it some kind of crush/infatuation?
I think not. Because this was a different kind of feeling.
He always felt the electric shock passing through his spine and ensnaring his body whenever he saw her face.
He always blushed visibly whenever she looked at him.
He always saw her in his dreams everyday after he first saw her.

One day he came back from office, he was in cloud nine. I saw the twinkle in his eyes. He said she spoke to him for the first time.
I got excited and asked him about their conversation.
“Well…I was walking through the pavement when she came walking opposite to me. I moved aside and let her pass as it was a bit narrow. She looked at me and said “Thank you”. I saw her smile.”
“So?”
“So what? That was all.”
“Holy cow! You just had the most romantic conversation ever.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! Right! Get a grip, dude!”

The next day he came from office and claimed that she too seemed to be interested.
“I saw her blush when our eyes met.”
I said, “That might be because she already has a rosy cheek. Remember? She has freckles.
“Or you might have blushed so much that your eyes were covered with blood and you saw everything red.”
“Problem hai yaar. I’ve fallen in love with her.”
“Then why don’t you go and talk to her?”
“I’m afraid. I don’t even know her. She’s not even in my team. She just sits a few cubicles away from me. That’s all. What if she is not interested?”
“You won’t know until you ask.”
“She always goes with her girl gang. I never get her alone.”
“Look. You have to find a way yourself.”
“This is not college. This is office for God’s sake. I’m afraid of the repercussions.”
“Is she showing some signs of interest? Or does she know at all?”
“I think she’s interested. She kept looking at me at the cafe during lunch today, but I can’t be sure, as there are hundreds of people in cafe during lunch time and she might be looking at anybody.”
“You better forget about her. You are such a coward.”
“I don’t deny that. But I’m happy just by looking at her.”

He doesn’t follow her, because he doesn’t believe in those concepts he sees in movies.
Moreover, he doesn’t want to force love out of her.
How the hell will he get to talk to her?
He doesn’t care. All he cares about is that he loves her. Or he thinks he does.
This really is perplexing because he never was shy towards girls or had any problem in talking with girls.

He is still in the starting line of the race with time. But he says races like this are not meant to be won.
Is this really love? I’m at a loss to answer.

Terabithia and Imagination

Published
by
Deepak
on April 19, 2007
in Life etc. and Memoirs
. 8 Comments

I’m back with another post so soon! *BROAD GRIN*
Honestly, I thought that the chances of India winning the Cricket world cup was more than me posting once in a month. Thanks to some amazing blue-shirted superhumans (or subhumans), I’ll never ever have the doubt again.

I’ve been thinking about my blog of late. I realized that I’m confused about what to write. In fact, the only fact which I’m not confused about is that I’m confused about everything else. I was confused from the moment I created the punchline for my blog. That’s evident from the punchline itself. It’s always been cerebrations from my confounded mind. It’s always evoked laughter; either it was funny or it was so silly that you laughed at my plight. The only difference in the latter case was that the readers laughed away as they unsubscribed me from their feed reader thinking that this blog was a pile of crap. Because I see a steady dip in my readership of late. I think it is a vicious circle. A dip in readership makes me diffident and I don’t post often. That results in a further dip in reader count.
Anyway, instead of whining about this, I’ll write about something better.

The post actually starts here!
I remember I promised about several movie reviews long back. I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen. (Go on! I don’t mind you heaving a sigh of relief!)
It’s actually going to be about another movie (no..not a review), and how it reminded me of my childhood.
The movie is Bridge to Terabithia
When it was released, I tried to get tickets for that in PVR once, but they were sold out. Later, several of my friends said that it was pathetic and not worth watching. But being an avid lover of fantasy that I am, I couldn’t say no to a free show of the film yesterday.
My immediate response after the movie was over (It was just 1.5 hours) was “Yaaaawn!”
The movie indeed was not that good.
But all our senses are so deceptive. I couldn’t help thinking about the movie after watching it.
Then I started realizing that there was something different in the movie.
It is not the normal movie-ish story. Our mind is so corrupt that we expect stereotypes in “good movies”. And stereotypes are exactly what is missing in this movie. Even the bullies are not stereotypical.

The movie, simply put, asks you to keep an open mind and imagine…imagine as much as you can. It tells you that you can weave fantasy too. The way Lesley and Jesse imagine things up… I suddenly remembered all the fantasy which I created when I was a kid. I used to go to my dad’s ancestral house for summer vacations. It was a rural area with lots of paddy fields and more macadamized roads than asphalted ones. My grandmother and uncles used to live in the house which was surrounded by trees for about a mile in all directions. All were our land, with cultivation in a part of the land. I used to love the uncultivated land, because it was the best one to explore.

The protagonists in Terabithia swing across a river to woods, where their imaginary land of Terabithia starts. They have all wonderful creatures out there including a giant troll. (which, by the way, are an important ingredient in any fantasy! Sigh! I had enough of trolls)

Even I had a treehouse constructed atop a mango tree in my Terabithia. Although I didn’t imagine trolls and all, I imagined myself to be living atop trees (Don’t get the wrong idea now. I’m still human!)
My treehouse was a kind of outpost made of sheets of wood perched on the mango tree. There were multiple entries (I took a cue from the hideout of the Three Investigators). My uncle had made rope ladders with knots, or you could use the plain old way through the tree trunk. I even had ropes to swing like Tarzan. It was real fun. Everyday, I would climb the tree to my outpost and consider myself to be the guardian of the jungle, keeping vigil on everything around. My company was a small kitten whose name I don’t remember now. I used to make stories where little animals used to come to me with grievances and I, being a good ruler, give proper judgments and advices. I even used to invite my little brother atop, posing as a doctor treating his ailments. Everything was complete…even the background music which I hummed myself when I did something kingly.

I miss those days. This movie made me miss those days, which were forgotten till yesterday. It brought about a sense of nostalgia into me. The movie was not good from a reviewer’s perspective, but it was good from my perspective. It was a touching story.

I wish I had some good friend like Lesley in my childhood. I fell in love with Lesley and her Terabithia.

The Troopers

Published
by
Deepak
on March 23, 2007
in Life etc.
. 9 Comments

The Saturday evening was special. (I mean last Saturday. I’m fully aware that it’s been one week, but I should have some stupid thing to write, shouldn’t I?)
We were meeting Moideen.
Now you might be thinking who the hell Moideen is.
Moideen is the nickname that we (my college music troupe) had given to Iron Maiden.
(I’m sorry if non-mallus don’t understand this joke; can’t help it.)
Talk about a college which considers PJ as a religion and talk about people who live and play rock and metal in that college; the naming conventions don’t come as a surprise.

We had one “Ikka” too.. Metallica. ( :P )

Anyway, jokes apart, we went to the maiden concert of Iron Maiden (Or “the lass made of steel” :D ) in India. The day was Saturday… last Saturday (Sigh! Still suffering from the hangover of a viewing Casino Royale yesterday!)
Whatever happened at the concert was as interesting as the concert itself! And it was another memorable day in my life.

Three of us had booked tickets together. KP had got his tickets booked by his colleagues. He doesn’t waste time for trifles like booking tickets. Think about this: He will go to his native place only if we take tickets for him and we drop him near the bus station.

Anyway, the three of us (me, Jaadu and Chekkoli) were planning to go in my car. The other two were supposed to arrive at my house. But it turned out to be one more. KP too came with them. I had a suspicion, that KP had just remembered that the concert was on Saturday when the other two were about to leave. (KP denies it outright, but judging by his nature, this is what might have happened.)
So it turned out that I hadn’t yet paid for my ticket, but had a sure entrance, and KP had paid for the ticket, but didn’t have a sure entrance. (How the hell would he find his colleagues in the human ocean? Only he knew.)

After driving my car at sub-zero speeds (You might be wondering, but it happens in Bangalore at peak traffic time), we finally reached Palace Grounds. KP part ways with us and went in search of his colleagues.

The horse he sweats with fear we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns

We entered. Jaadu was a bit nervous about his hidden digicam. Anyway he managed to steal his digicam inside. They frisked, but didn’t find the camera. We were welcomed by the din inside. Lauren Harris (the daughter of Steve Harris) was performing. Iron Maiden was yet to start their performance. Lauren was pathetic to the point where we didn’t even listen to her.

We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near yet so far away
We won’t live to fight another day.

It was time for doing a Trooper. We had to move forward through endless hurdles; hundreds of people who too were devising strategies of moving forward. We kept inching forward throughout the concert. All we could do was move 10 meters in 2 and a half hours. We got so near yet so far away.

The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath
As I plunge on into certain death.

People to the left of me were smoking. I hated the acrid smell. It was smelling odd. It might have been marijuana. I don’t know. I even hate the smell of cigarettes. This was awful. But I had to live with that bit of passive smoking :(
There was this white guy near us. There was another boy gang nearby too. Looked like they were students. So this white guy asked all of us whether we drink whiskey. Several of them answered yes in unison. (I didn’t) Then he conjured a bottle of Imperial Blue Whiskey out of thin air (Not thin air, in fact. He had hidden it in his socks.)
It was finished in no time.

The Bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins

Soon it started. Explosive is the word. I don’t find another way to address the atmosphere. They played all the local favorites, Fear of the dark, The Trooper, Number of the Beast. But I was too sad they didn’t play Waster Years and Clairvoyant. The sets were amazing. I’m not describing more because I don’t have words to describe them.

Fire on the hair
As we were pushing forward through the crowd, we reached behind another guy with huge locks of hair. I immediately named him “”Jataayu” because he had huge amounts of “Jata” (dreadlocks). As usual, we teamed up with some unknown Indians who were standing nearby and even conspired to set fire to his hair with a lighter.

You’ll take my life but I’ll take yours too
You’ll fire your musket but I’ll run you through

What’s it with girls in cars almost hitting me?
This has not happened once or twice. It has happened three times. A car almost hits me, and it will invariably be a pretty girl driving.
Is it that all pretty girls don’t know proper driving?
It was no different this time too as we were leaving. I was walking through the crowd of four wheelers (which were hurrying to the exit) towards my parked car, when my shin almost got flattened between two cars.

We get so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights

I met an old friend by surprise while leaving. He’s the only one guy I know of who would fly from Calcutta to Bangalore to see this show. That’s Vinu. (Don’t bother to visit the link. He only posts once a year.) He was the kind of guy who’d splurge. (On second thought, Pavanaayi beats him at that. What’s your opinion, Sanju?) We had a lot of time to chat, because the exit was jammed for about 30 minutes. After that, we part ways.

And as I lay there gazing at the sky
My body’s numb and my throat is dry
And as I lay forgotten and alone
Without a tear I draw my parting groan.

The first thing I noticed after I came back to the real world; I was dead thirsty. We went straight to Cafe Coffee Day. They were closing, but they got afraid when I flexed my muscles, and gave us whatever we ordered. Then I dropped Justin and Chekkoli, and went home. India was in a pathetic situation. I thought… It was a wise decision to go to the concert than watch cricket.

The Vanity of the Mind #3: The Redemption

Published
by
Deepak
on March 14, 2007
in Stories
. 6 Comments

The story so far…
Prologue
1. Anathema
2. A damsel in distress

The Redemption

He nears the house. He sees the door and the pitch darkness inside. The Black Hole. Only this time, the door looks circular. The black circle grows as it nears him. It moves towards his forehead.
He hears a cocking sound.

“BANG! You’re dead.”

He came back to his senses.
The lady was aiming the muzzle straight at his forehead. It was his own gun.
“What the…”

“Didn’t expect this, did you?”, she asked with a smile, “Didn’t expect me to be the anonymous assassin who is going to kill you.”
“But I was paid to kill you.”
“Don’t you get it? It was me who contacted your agency for this contract.”
“It was a trap, wasn’t it? A decoy so that you could get to me. But I praise your fortitude to plan my assassination with my own weapons.”
“I knew you are weak. A person doing this job should have no relationships. He should have no heart. You were so in love with me.”
“But why no weapons?”
“Oh come on! You would have known the moment if I’d carried any weapons. Besides, I wanted to prove that I’m the best in business.”
“So have you proved it?”
“I will, in due time.”
“Have you ever played Russian Roulette? How about playing it now? Too bad we don’t have a revolver. You hold the gun against…”
“SHUT UP! Don’t play games with me.”

The hitman laughed menacingly. She grew confused as her smile faded away.

“Good guess. I indeed was intending to play games. As a matter of fact, I did expect you to betray.”
He opened his left hand. The bullets were in his hand.

She pulled the trigger frantically.
CLICK
Nothing but the sound of metal hitting against metal.
CLICK, CLICK.
Nothing.

“Give the gun to me. I’ll teach you how to shoot.”
He grabbed the muzzle. She didn’t even resist. The cartridge was empty. It was a deadlock situation.

“How did you know?”, she asked.
“Our dialogue sounded like something straight out of a Sidney Sheldon novel. Sounded too trite to be honest.”
“Lets do something which is less of a cliche. Lets play Russian Roulette then”, she had to buy as much time as possible.
“Yeah. Lets.”
He pointed the gun on her forehead instead of his own.
His arced lips were becoming straight, “An assassin should never listen to her heart.”
She looked into his bared left hand. There were only three bullets.
She suddenly realised, “Shit!”

“BANG! You’re dead!”
The silencer served both the purposes.
It made a tranquil silence of the gunshot.
It silenced her.

The hitman opened the cartridge. There were 4 bullets in the lower slots. He put back the three bullets in hand into the top-most slots.

The lady lay in the linen-covered floor, an exact hole on the middle of her forehead.
It was over. He walked away with his paycheck.
The mind won the battle. The urban legend was redeemed.

Courtesy: Thanks to Sanjeev for the constructive criticism on the last chapter.

The Vanity of the Mind #2: A Damsel in Distress

Published
by
Deepak
on March 13, 2007
in Stories
. 3 Comments

The story so far…
Prologue
1. Anathema

A damsel in distress

He was pushed to the back seat of a helpless moderator who was about to witness a heated debate.
The heart and the mind were arguing. How could he not listen to either one of them?
The mind. Cunning manipulator.
The heart. Excruciating torturer.

He came back after quenching his thirst. But his thirst for an answer was still not quenched. The curtains were open and the soothing lights from the moon were falling inside. The warm doona was glowing bright white in the silhouette. Under that was a beautiful face, no less than the face of an angel, because it was glowing with twice the aura as the moon. His gaze quickly went again to his silenced pistol kept in the bedside table.

No.
NO..NO..
Please…No…I can’t do this…
I love her.

Did I really ever love any one? Did I really care about any one?
Do I know what love is?

All I know is that she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life..She is my sole solace from all the misdeeds I do.

Misdeeds? Or deeds? There is nothing wrong in taking life.

How can I take life when I can’t give life?

I don’t care. All I know is, this is what I’m good at and this is what I’m paid for.

But how can I? How dare I hurt such a person as her?

Because she asked me to.

What?

Don’t I know?

The world then zooms to an alternate reality…what has already happened!
The assassin and his lady love are conversing. The heart and the mind are watching.

Assassin: I didn’t expect you outside so soon. You like parties.
Lady: I like to be in your company for as long as I wish.
L: Care for a smoke?
A: No thanks.
L: As usual.
A: We should stop meeting like this; these chance encounters make me feel insecure about myself.
L: Chance encounters? Heh. You have been hiding so many things from me.
A: Like?
L: Like what you do for a living.
A: You never asked.
L: I didn’t because I didn’t want to know.
A: Very well.
L: But I found out nevertheless. I’ve seen you hide that pistol of yours inside your tuxedo.

The hitman frowns.

L: I’ve known that the one the world thinks as an Urban Legend, is the world for me.
A: Still you love me?
L: Yes.
A: Why?
L: Because I’ve seen a heart of gold in you.
A: But I have a mind of stone.
L: But I see your heart in your eyes whenever your eyes see me.
A: Look. I’ve tried to tell you several times, but faltered every time. You should stay away from me. It is not safe.
L: How can one stay away from one’s shadow?
A: I am the shadow of the people I kill. I cannot be with you.
L: Then kill me.

The assassin frowns again. How the hell did she know?

A: That is the stupidest statement I’ve heard in ages.

A cheshire cat grin comes on her face. He senses her signal. He leans forward. He feels her satin-like skin. They hear the song played in the background.
I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky
I swear like the shadow that’s by your side
They kiss.

The heart and the mind come back to the present.

That is just a passing statement. Not good enough a reason for killing her.

It’s not finished yet.

They zoom to another reality.

The assassin and the lady are in the bed. He is lying on his back, facing the ceiling. She is lying sideways, her head rested against her left arm. Her other hand is caressing his chin.

L: Do you love me?
A: I don’t know.
L: That’s one honest answer.
A: But you are the only human I care about in this earth.
L: Then why did you come here to kill me?
A: What?
L: I know you are here to kill me.
A: I di…
L: I’ve seen the concentration in your face today. Today is the day you are going to make another hit. I don’t mind it being me.
A: I don’t get it.
L: I’ve been running away from them for so long. They want me dead. I’m tired. Tired from running. You see. I’d rather die in your hands than from the bullets of an unknown person.
A: Are you not afraid?
L: Not when you are around. I only have one request. Hold me close to you until I die.

The assassin doesn’t know what to say. He can’t keep his eyelids open. He feels sleepy.
What is happening to me?
He wakes up in an unknown place. He walks across the street, but this time it looks a bit familiar…The road laid with stones. The medieval buildings. He is back in his dream.

What’s happening to me

Published
by
Deepak
on March 6, 2007
in General
. 9 Comments

It’s nearing a month since I last blogged. I know some of you(Okay..it’s only me) are looking forward to reading the remaining parts of the story, but unfortunately I’m facing what I’ve only heard as writer’s block. My draft story has deviated so much from what I wanted to convey that I forgot what I actually wanted to write. The story is not moving towards a conclusion. (I now realize that such stories are not my piece of cake)
Hopefully I will find my story again in a couple of days.

There are too many things pending for me, including some things I promised to some special people. I really need to speed things up.

Meanwhile, I turned 24 on Sunday. Time is running so fast.. Sigh!

The Vanity of the Mind #1: Anathema

Published
by
Deepak
on February 19, 2007
in Stories
. 7 Comments

The story so far…
- Prologue

Anathema

“HELP!”

He woke up, startled.
He felt disoriented. He was gasping.
What was it that he just said? Who did he ask for help? Why did he need help from anybody?
What was it that he just saw? Do dreams have any meaning?
Questions! They come like bullets from a machine gun whenever they come, not giving time for you to answer, suffocating you. By the time you are ready to answer, they are gone.

He came back to his senses.

That was nothing but a bad dream.
No! Dreams have meanings.
A conflict of thoughts!

His .44 caliber Desert Eagle was lying on the bedside table, fitted with a silencer. It symbolized his gagged mouth. He had no one to confess to. His life was that of a solitary eagle, a cursed one.

He was the assassin.
He wasn’t sure how many people he had killed. But he was sure of something. If God existed…if heaven and hell existed…he had a sure seat in hell.
He killed for money. That was his food. That was his destiny.
“Destiny. A word coined by some prick who wanted to justify his deeds and explain his losses.”
“Who’s there?”, he shouted as he looked around.
No one! That voice seemed to come from inside him.

He checked the time in his diamond studded Rolex watch kept by the bedside table. He could afford expensive watches and suits, thanks to the handsome money he got for each contract.
It was 4 in the morning. He looked at his gun. Creases formed in his forehead. His eyes were showing hatred. Hatred towards his gun. Hatred towards his profession. Hatred towards himself.

“This is not hatred. This is confession. You are confessing to yourself, because you have no one else.”
“Who’s that?”
“I’m your heart.”
“What the…”
He got up. He needed some water. This was insane.
It was about to get worse, because someone else just barged in.

“Don’t listen to your heart. It will make you weak”

Movies Galore

Published
by
Deepak
on February 13, 2007
in Reviews
. 2 Comments

This is going to be a movie review…No…Not a movie review, but a chain of movie reviews.

The reason for several in one shot is simple. I saw all of them in one sitting.
There are 5 movies in all. All are radically different in genre.

  • Amelie (French)
  • The Shawshank Redemption (After so many years of yearning to watch it)
  • Run Lola Run (German)
  • Sin City
  • Banlieue 13 (French)

Each review will be a different post. I will interleave each with my ongoing story, just to avoid monotony. I will start from the last one.

For those who are fed up with CGI effects-based “pseudo-action” movies, this movie is just for you.

Banlieue 13 is a French action movie which was released in 2004. As the saying goes, leave your mind outside the room/theater if you are watching this movie. There is no story, but the movie is really worth watching; that too, several times.

Banlieue 13 is, in simple words, a ride. Don’t go looking for depth in storyline. But it is loaded with action which is simply stunning.
The stunts of David Belle are a treat for the eyes. Belle’s intro is impressive. It gives a terrific first impression of the movie in the 1st minute itself, as Leito (Belle) leads a mob of gangsters on a chase over, under, beside and through several high rise buildings. I’m not kidding. This guy jumps from building to building, down one floor, through a narrow window and all. The movie features several parkour moves by David Belle. And Belle happens to be the inventor of this extreme sport. The stunts by Cyril Rafaelli, the other hero, is also great. (But not as much a treat to the eyes as David Belle’s)

Here is the youtube video of the opening stunt sequence. (Low quality)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkNqlSGwI7I

For those who wonder what parkour is, (and haven’t checked wikipedia yet) you have seen it before. Remember the beginning chase scene in Casino Royale? That rubber-bodied guy named Mollaka? How he runs? That’s exactly what parkour is.

The final verdict is: Forget the story, even skip forward to each stunt. Witness some of the coolest stunts you have seen in screen. No wires, No visual effects. That adds to the thrill.

The Vanity of the Mind: Prologue

Published
by
Deepak
on February 6, 2007
in Stories
. 5 Comments

He walks across the street which doesn’t look too familiar. It is a crowded street, but the faces are blank. The roads are very clear, but the surroundings aren’t. It is as if someone has blurred out the borders of a picture. The road doesn’t seem to be asphalted; it is a walkway which looks an old-fashioned one with polished stones on the ground. The buildings too don’t seem modern; most seem to be festooned. They look blurred. Are they really constructed like that? Or is it a trick that his mind is playing?
“STOP PLAYING TRICKS. I CONTROL YOU. NOT THE OTHER WAY!”, he shouts.
His mind laughs cynically…”Fool!”

He then spots THAT building. It is not a separate standalone edifice, but still, it looks clear in the hazy virtual reality he is in. Why so? He knows not. It is a part of a chain of buildings which don’t seem to be separated, but continuous.

He turns towards the building. He senses the ominous artworks in the wooden roofs. He sees the black smoke rising out of it’s chimney. But he doesn’t see where it is going. It disappears into the infinite universe. He squints into the building through the open door. It is pitch black inside. It seems to have nothing; a black hole. Is it really a black hole? Is it true that anything would be sucked inside? Is it so tempting that anyone who passes by would go inside but never return?

He is tempted. Little does he realize that this is his last temptation. He has two choices. If he makes this choice, there may be no return. Still he goes inside. His mind resumes that cynical laugh. He doesn’t step inside; he floats. His feet doesn’t seem to hit solid ground. He frantically tries to get out through the door. But it’s too late. There’s no door. There is a sphere of darkness around him. For the first time in his life, he’s afraid.