Am I Naïve? (Movie review: Highway)

This movie was released earlier this year but I got the chance to watch it only now. It is an emotional ride and there were some thoughts that had been lurking around in my head for quite some time and resonated instantly while watching the movie. This movie is about a girl who has been kidnapped (unintentionally) by a man and they are on the road – passing through deserts, farms, hills, valleys, streams, snow – running away from police. The girl, away from the fake bling of city life, loves the ‘highway’ and the journey. She does not want to go back home, she does not want the journey to end. She falls in love with the kidnapper. Watch the movie to know what happens in the end. Visually it was a delight to watch this movie - Indian landscape(s) at its best!

What this girl goes through is a classic psychological case of Stockholm Syndrome. I have always found this idea fascinating and wanted to write about it. Watching Highway today pushed me to finally do that. Stockholm Syndrome is a subconscious phenomenon where a hostage/victim develops positive, loving, sympathetic and/or empathetic feelings towards its perpetrator. It is an act of defense mechanism perhaps, a way of coping with the trauma.

Would you call a person naïve for falling in love with someone who is perceivably dangerous and wrong for her? A lot of people remain in a relationship not knowing what they are doing. They may not be happy, their needs may not get fulfilled but they stay. . .trapped and ensnared in that relationship. The world calls it love. Someone once called me naïve to which I took offense. I am smart, intelligent, logical, thinking person, I am not naïve. I rolled my eyes. But if you knew you were naïve then you wouldn’t be naïve. That thought somehow stayed with me.

The lead actors, Alia Bhatt and Randeep Hooda, have given fantastic performances. Veera, the hostage, hates the city life – the fake mask that you have to put on to be social, to impress people, to do things in the ‘right’ way, to be nice to others. She has not seen much of the world, she is indeed naïve but of what she has seen, she does not want to be a part of it. She wants to run away. Somewhere in the movie she says – I don’t want to return to where you got me from, I don’t want to reach where you are taking me, I just want this journey to go on and the road to not end.

But can you escape life?

I am reminded of a quote from Breakfast at Tiffany’s –

“You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

There is no running away then :)

Travelling to Europe *Yayyyyyy*

Picture courtesy: http://rincme.in/

Heylo!

Writing that blog title brought a huge smile on my face :) So yes I am planning to travel to Europe. What makes it special (apart from the fact that it's Europe) is that I will be going alone. ~cough~ yes a solo traveller, that's what I am going to be for 15 days across 4 countries and 5 cities.

To capture this travel, I have created a new blog. Why not continue writing on this blog? Who wants to keep up with another blog? Well yes, I did toy with the idea of using this space for penning my adventure. But in future I may want to share my travel story with people in my real life, with whom I don't want to share my personal space of To Blog, With Love. I don't love them as much as I love you guys, you know :)

So all those who want to know all about my travel, story of a young Indian solo traveller walking across the cobbled roads of Europe - hop on to my new blog.

*drum rolls* I present to you

A Fridge magnet and a postcard

I realized that on this backpacker's trip I won't be able to afford any other souvenir except a fridge magnet and a post card :) But a lot of pictures and a lot of memories.

I am not going to ignore To Blog, With Love, I promise :)

Edited to add:
I have changed the name of my travel blog :) Just like that. Now it is called Stories on the Map.
www.stories-on-the-map.blogspot.com

Don't stop those tears

Today I read an article that touched a very sensitive, though healed, wound deep inside me. It took me back to that time when I was 21 years old – my first tryst in a professional environment. It was a 3 month internship with one of the leading Advertising houses in Bangalore. I had great fun during those 3 months. There were a lot of challenges but it was all very exciting. I loved going back to office on Mondays. I was the starry eyed girl curious about everything, hungry to learn and work. My biggest goal during that internship was to convert that into a job so that I don’t have to depend on my college for a placement.

At the end of the internship, my boss (the branch head) wrote a letter of appreciation for me which had mentions of all the projects I had completed during my time there. And a few lines about my personality. In that he had written something like S is blah blah blah (good things) though needs to show enthusiasm at work. That last line was like a sword through my 21 year old heart. I did not understand what that was supposed to mean. Enthusiasm? I worked so much, more than any other intern that time. How could he say that I lacked enthusiasm – when I was the one running around getting things done, asking questions, curious to learn everything I could lay my hands on. I was severely heartbroken with that letter. This not only meant that my internship would not lead to a job, but also the letter was a stinker for future job prospects. I must have read that letter a thousand times and decided that I needed to talk about it to my boss – at least to understand what he meant by freakin’ enthusiasm. 

So I went to his cabin and asked and in the process shed big dollops of tears and put my palms on my face and CRIED. Now when I think back to that moment, I smile at my naivety. But that time it was a moment of ‘crisis’ : ) What my boss meant to say was that I need to ‘display’ my enthusiasm more. The important word there was ‘display’ and how that enthusiasm needs to come alive to infect others too. Now I was not that person who is animated around others; three months was definitely not enough for me to break the walls around my space. At least not that time. After seeing me cry, he edited that line to make it clearer. Haha. And I must point out that he did hire me after I completed my course :)

The article that I read today was about crying at your workplace – whether it is taboo or a sign of strength. And that made me think. I am prone to crying, yes, mostly happy tears. I don’t cry sad tears at the drop of a hat, but I do feel a wave of emotions (it literally feels like a huge wave) for something I feel very strongly about. For example in the story I just narrated, getting a job and becoming financially independent was an urgent need of the hour.

After that particular incident, being ashamed of crying at a ‘professional’ environment, I decided never to cry again like a child. I was after all, the young-independent-working professional I always wanted to be. But the first six months of my work were absolutely horrible. I had the worst team, the worst client and the worst boss in the whole world. And that taught me a lot. Those six months were like three years of work experience – every day a trial, every day a disappointment and the struggle to deal with all of that. I would be on the verge of tears and then ‘display’ my armor of strength pretending to be strong. There were days I would run to the washroom to vent out, to shed those tears, wash my face and come back on the battle ground. 

Every day I wanted to quit but there was a thriving force, a voice that did not want to give up. It was a hell of a shocker (pun completely intended) after studying for 5 years. I couldn’t believe that the place of my dreams was that. My self esteem was torn to pieces and stomped over ruthlessly. But as dramatic it may sound, I came out of that crisis, reborn like a phoenix. Things took a turn and became splendid – great client, great team, great boss, lot of good work, appreciation, recognition and fun.

Tears have made me ashamed of myself at one instance and also acted as a source of strength at another time. I don’t think tears are for losers. What you do after shedding those tears is what matters.

What makes you sane? (Book review: The Illicit Happiness of Other People)

Isn’t that a fascinating name for a book? What kind of happiness would be illicit? Another book I have been reading is called Too Much Happiness – it is a collection of short stories by the famous Canadian writer, Alice Munro. Can there be such a thing as ‘too much’ happiness? Is happiness ever enough? It could be overwhelming, yes. But never too much I think :) I want more happiness! Give me more!

Coming back to Illicit Happines. . .It is a novel written by Manu Joseph. This is his second novel; the first one called Serious Men, was a huge success and got him some awards. I have not read it yet. But today I will be talking about The Illicit Happiness of Other People. This is one of those rare books that I finished reading in a jiffy; usually I take a good week or ten days to finish a book – but this one was like eating an ice-cream, gulping down once spoonful after another, savoring every sensation.

This novel is based in late 80’s, early 90’s in Madras. It is a story of a 17 year old boy, Unni Chacko, who commits suicide. He seemed like a ‘happy’ person but he kills himself by jumping from the terrace. And nobody knows why. His father starts a journey, 3 years later, to find out about his son and understand what could have led him to do what he did. There was no suicide note; only clue left behind is in the comics and cartoons drawn by Unni. He was a cartoonist – a surrealistic cartoonist I must add. It is the story of Chacko family – a drunkard father, a schizophrenic mother, a son who killed himself, and another who lives under the shadow of his dead brother. It is a tragic story that talks a lot of philosophy and psychology, but you can’t just miss the humour in it. Manu tells the story so beautifully, with the right amount of mystery, intrigue and dollops of funny one-liners – mostly funny, candid observations of how things are. I don’t remember the last time I laughed while reading a book. Unni is one fascinating character, and so is his brother, Thoma. Both the kids have very interesting ways of looking at the world. Unni’s perspective is well, philosophical..metaphysical, witty, but Thoma is plain adorable – the stupid little kid.

The book goes on to talk about what sane and insane really mean. The delusions of the world, the folly of two. If everyone in the world believes in what is not really true, does it become true? What constitutes madness and how is it different from being enlightened?

It made me think about what freedom really means. The true form of freedom where nothing holds you back, you say what’s on your mind and do what your heart desires. . . will be considered insanity in the real world. The truth about insanity is that it is the truth, and the world does not want to see and accept the truth in all its clarity. The world moulds you in such a way that you stop looking at the truth and consider that ‘normal’. 

Dragons!

I have never liked McDonalds Happy Meal. In fact, I am not very fond of McDonalds. There is exactly ONE thing I like there – their McChicken burger. I have eaten at McDonalds a lot of times and finally have come to the conclusion that I don’t like it. All their burgers are annoyingly Indian – they put all these Indian chutneys in all the burgers, except in McChicken. That is the only burger which has mayonnaise in it and none of the orange and green chutneys. Yes, I know their menu that well. I was their frequent customer at one point of time. But never had I ever bought their happy meal. I never liked the toys. I thought it was a stupid scam for kids.

And then I saw their recent toys. DRAGONS. From the movie How to train your dragon 2. I saw a few of them at a friend’s place. And it got me really excited. The dragons are super cool! I decided to indulge. At this moment, reader, it must be noted that I am trying to live a ‘healthy’ lifestyle right now and staying away from burgers and pizzas – I have them once in a while but try to avoid them. Now when I do decide to have a burger, I won’t waste it on a McDonalds burger when there are so many other good places to eat. Anyway I digress. So. The toys.

Next weekend when I went for grocery shopping, I decided I will get a happy meal and then I won’t have to bother myself with cooking and that could be my dinner. But before I could do grocery shopping, I spent a lot of money buying clothes. Yes, it was not part of the plan. It just happened :P Now with those bags of *expensive* clothes in my hands, I decided I didn’t want a McDonalds burger and what’s the big deal about toys!

This week I had a lot of work. On Tuesday evening, my boss piled up a lot more work on my head which had to be completed by night. There was no way I could go home and cook and eat and then work. So I told myself – this is the right opportunity to have that happy meal. A lot less guilt. It made total sense. McDonalds is right next to my house. So that day on my way back home from office, I stopped by McDonalds. Generally I hate going there, coz there are so many kids all the time. But that day I was happy about my first Happy Meal. 

I stood in the queue and placed my order – got an Iced tea instead of soda (health health – although iced tea turned out to be ultra sweet!). And then, after I paid the bill and got my burger, they gave me my toy. I was horrified; that guy handed me some pathetic Frisbee!! There I stood, carrying a laptop bag on my shoulders, wearing very formal "adult" clothes, looking at him with a shocked face. First thing I said, quite sulking-ly was – “I don’t want this toy, I want a dragon!” As soon as I heard myself I realized the hilarity of the scene, but I was too angry to let it go. So there were kids all around me and there were people behind me in the queue and I decided to put my foot down over the toy. I was like the angry Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones who was furious when she lost her dragons. I lost my dragon even before getting. And then the guy called his manager. I told him that I don’t want the happy meal if I don’t get a dragon – that’s the toy I am supposed to get (and no one can take away my right!! :P). He listened to me carefully and said that’s the only toy they have in stock. I was irritated beyond all measures. I felt cheated. Those 145 rupees over that stupid burger and Iced tea. The manager then assured me that new toys will arrive on Friday and I can get the toy exchanged after that. I felt a little better but I was not completely satisfied – you know people say such things to kids to keep them quiet, and nothing ever happens. I wanted to ask him to give it to me in WRITING that he will exchange my toy! But I shut myself up. I told him I was buying the happy meal only because of the toy. He looked quite unruffled, not bothered. He must be used to kids throwing tantrums in McDonalds.

So I came back home with an annoyed face and ate that burger. And finished my work. The sight of that Frisbee was boiling my blood. But I had to keep it safe so that I could exchange it.

TODAY- Saturday. I went to McDonalds again to get it exchanged. I was apprehensive; what if they don’t exchange it and don’t believe me story? When I went there I couldn’t see the guy I had spoken to that day – the one who had assured me that I could get the toy exchanged. I went to the counter. I told him that I wanted to exchange my toy. The manager was called again. It was some other man. I narrated the whole story to him. “So you want a new toy?”, he politely asked. I nodded. I am not sure if I did the puppy eyes, I don’t think I did. I was trying not to embarrass myself as much as possible. He came out after 15 minutes carrying two toys – not the ones I had seen at my friend's place. I asked him if those were the only two kinds he had. He said yes and I asked him again whether he was sure and he said yes again. I gave him a big smile, it crawled in quite suddenly, and I took one of the toys and gave that Frisbee back.

I think my dragon is pretty cool! You want to see? :) :) :)

The dragon throws out that thing from his mouth if you press a button :)

The 2 AM friend

I grew up as a loner. I would be in complete denial if I said that I did not have too many friends because I changed cities and schools ever so often. From 7^th grade to 11^th grade, I was in a different school every year (By 7th grade I had changed 3 schools already!). That could have influenced me in two ways – either I could have had a lot of friends, meeting so many new people every few months or I could have had no friends, moving along before forging friendships. Neither of the two things happened. I was stuck in a limbo.

I did not make A LOT of friends. But I did make a few. Select few that could not blossom… or withered in course of time. Everything said and done, I at least have had a great experience in writing letters to my friends. If you have grown up with the same friends all your life, I am sure you don’t write them a letter (a birthday card maybe). I miss those letters. I am not from the 140 characters of today’s Twitter generation. I am an old soul, I believe in writing letters, long letters. (Unfortunately, nobody writes a letter anymore, email is the best you could get, if not a whatsapp ‘hi’.)

The long letters, even if they were platonic, gave me a lot of joy. And the anticipation of receiving a letter. . . It seems like a different era now. It never stayed the same. The letters stopped and we went back to being strangers. Now I have a lot of those stranger-friends on my facebook. They are my friends from that era. I don’t know how they have changed over the years, in fact I can’t recall a single conversation I’ve had with them. They were my first friends. I met such a friend recently after 12 years. We were 13 when we had become friends. I had studied for half an year in the school we went together. And now we met again at 25. We had kept in touch off and on through facebook.

Talking about old things, most of which I could not remember. Looking at the buildings, shops, roads that I had last seen 12 years ago. Catching up on all the years that had flown between us. An adult sleep over, lying next to her in the bed talking with the lights off, confiding, chiding, laughing and finally dozing off. I was surprised at the ease with which she filled in all the space between us, while I didn’t know where to start. I think the start was me informing her that I will be in her city on that day. I have changed so much over the years that ANYBODY I meet from my past would be taken aback; it could be like becoming friends with a new person. She was not shocked; she had too much to tell me about her life.

Deep down I am still the same, I know. Especially when it comes to friendships. Maybe I am less intimidating now than I was before. I still have a tough time making friends. I am not a gang-of-friends kind of a person. I have been a part of that kind of friendships, and I find it very exhausting. It leaves me with no space to breathe. I love watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Sex and the City – and everything seems great! But I just can’t do it. Another kind of friendship is the room-mate kind. I think I can handle that better. Also it depends a lot on the room-mate. I have had 11 room-mates in my life so far. I am in touch with only 3 of them.

I am very territorial about my space I think. From time to time, I need to cave in, shut the world out. Not everyone can accept and deal with that. I have been accused (not by my room-mates) of talking only when I want to. They don’t understand that the ‘talk’ when I am in one of those I-am-not-in-this-world moods will be much worse.

I also find it extremely difficult to be friends with people my age. All my friends, with very few exceptions, are older than me. I just CAN’T get along with younger people. And I can’t begin to explain why.

In one of my favourite movies of all times, Before Sunset, the girl says – “I guess when you're young, you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect. Later in life, you realize it only happens a few times.”

I connect with very very few people. I can count in my fingers, the people I really like talking to, whose names I see in my chat messenger list and feel great. We don’t even have to talk every day, but just seeing them on the messenger makes me glad. Knowing they are there.

I have friends with whom I can chill on the weekend, watch a movie with, meet them when I am in their city or they happen to be in my city, I have friends whose weddings I attend, friends with whom I make travel plans, I have friends I cook for or go out eating with. . . but I am not sure if I connect with them. I am not sure if I am comfortable enough to tell them everything that is on my mind without the fear of being judged or stereotyped or that it could be used against me later or it would be made fun of behind me. I am a very insecure person with a lot of trust issues. Coz I have seen people doing it. I have seen alleged ‘best friends’ and ‘close friends’ go bitching about each other behind them. I detest this hypocrisy and politics of friendship.

I don’t have a 2 AM friend. But I am great friends with my sleep :)

Keep pedaling

This was not the first time I went to Rishikesh. The trips before this followed the quintessential religious track of visiting the temples, the jhoolas and such. But this time it was different. And this time I really enjoyed Rishikesh. Too bad we didn’t have more time, or we could have also seen the Valley of flowers – not sure if it was a good season to visit though. I did white water rafting for the very first time, and I am sure I am going to do it again. SUPER fun.

We stayed in a guest house (the one for high officials in a government owned company) thanks to my dad’s “contacts”. It was nestled cozily in the mountains and the trees. It was tucked away from the traffic and hustle-bustle, and you could only hear birds chirping. The highlight of the trip, but of course, was the experience of rafting.

That's the view from my room in the guest house

Our raft didn’t have many people – it was only two of us, one Australian ‘daadi’ (that’s what they were calling her) and two little boys who were supposed to be our saviors. These boys asked us to stay in front and LEAD the raft, at his command. “When I say ‘forward’ start pedaling forward, when I say stop you must stop at once” – he was quite a master. And sitting right in front of the raft, maneuvering it almost independently (as compared to other rafts which had at least 10 people pedaling together). . .was quite a task.

The Australian lady had done it several times before and said, “Oh this is not adventure, this is very easy” – before we got into the raft. In her earlier rafts, there were a lot of young guys who did most of the pedaling while she enjoyed the experience. With us, when she had to really work out on the raft, and our raft almost toppled over – she experienced adventure :P

Yes, our raft almost toppled over. For that micro second, I thought I was going to fall, as I lost balance when the rapids came. As all the water came crashing on to me and the raft went up in the air, I felt my back swaying down towards the water. It was exciting. Next moment I was back, straightened up. In that moment of panic, I had stopped pedaling and the Australian woman sitting behind me kept shouting – ‘keep pedaling…keep pedaling’. I could sense the fear in her voice. We were completely drenched (I wear spectacles, by the way) and the white bubbling waves came thrashing us; we were bouncing in the air – I didn’t see any point in rowing . . .coz my paddle would not reach the water. It’s like pedaling in the air. And I did just that. Soon the rapids were over and we were back in the smooth waters. Everybody looked at each other and laughed. The master was visibly annoyed and threatened us to put more efforts.

Lesson learnt: Keep pedaling even if you feel it is pointless. In life, too.