Gone With the Wind (book): Review

Scarlett O’ Hara is an ill-tempered, obstinate young girl, brought up in a well-to-do family, in the pre-American Civil War Georgia. She is adored by the men of her county, but loathed by the women folk as a consequence of her candor.
The script is wrapped up with realistic characters, such as the rogue Rhett Butler (who has a sweet corner for Scarlett), the benevolent Melanie Hamilton (who sees nothing but good in everyone) and the honorable Ashley Wilkes (whom Scarlett cherishes). The book revolves around the gradual changes in her spirit, as reactions to the sudden outbreak of hunger and poverty in a country which is yearning for peace. Margaret Mitchell had put forward the books in the following words:
I wrote about people who had gumption and people who didn't.

It is a story of discovery of love, of birth of strength, of the need of greed, the wits of a survivor and the weight of downfall. We follow Miss O’ Hara from difficulties to luxuries; from sheer disappointments to exquisite exhilaration; from her innocence to becoming a fretful adult.The people she meets, the landscapes she observes, the incidents she experiences and her resultant thoughts and emotions have been finely detailed, in such energy that the reader himself feels compelled to be physically shaken. It seems as if you were actually present in the country in crisis, in the troubled times and in the happy memories. It is a roller coaster ride, creating a phase of turmoil about values and relations, converting hate to respect.

Like any good work of writing, it is carefully entwined; small elements have been be referenced where they were not expected.

"I had every detail clear in my mind before I sat down to the typewriter.” -The author

The writer crashes surprises at the beginning and end of chapters, which blends thrills into the text. Every sentence is creatively written, either you can fast-read it to grasp the story or absorb each sentence for its deeper meaning.
 It is a blend of beautifully woven characters in a typhoon of circling emotions, with a tinge of humour, a classic, a very readable piece for every big and small novel lover.

Now that I’m done with the book and its review, what will I do with my life? “No, I won’t think about this now. I’ll think of it tomorrow. I can stand it then. After all, tomorrow is another day.”

Star Trek : Into Darkness *SPOILER ALERT*

If you are a regular visitor to blogger websites, before you go for a movie, you might find this review quite ‘informal’. First of all, I’d start with how excited I was when I first heard Cumberbatch (the dreamy British Sherlock Holmes) is in the new Star Trek movie. My excitement led me to 1^st day, 1^st show, 1^st person to enter the theatre. A total of 10 people in the hall couldn’t retreat my enthusiasm.

The movie kicked off we find the crew ship on some planet ‘deep into space’, on a mission, where they extinguish an active volcano and proudly display their ship in front of the inhabitants of a planet which had not even invented a wheel, which puts Kirk’s position in jeopardy. This had only been added to the movie to give the fans the feel that they are watching an episode of Star Trek- is what I think- and the attempt was not a disappointing one.

As we move along as we are introduced to the ‘dude’ of the hour- John Harrison. The Director takes full advantage of his knowledge of Cumberbatch’s fame. he leaves us to “ooh”, “ah”, “That’s Benedict’s voice!” creating an aura of mystery around him and about his ‘superpowers’ (which weren’t hard to guess).

With a lot of laser-sound effects, excessive lighting and explosions we follow John Harrison into the Klingon territory (the villain race from franchise), where he massacres an entire squad of Klingons single-handedly, in a brilliantly executed fight scene I might add, but surrenders to Kirk. 

There he testifies that he is Khan (WHAT!?) and his crew has locked up by the Federation, and, their motives aren’t sober. So Kirk (asking aid from Khan) declares war against the Starfleet Admiral and as events follow Khan overtakes his advanced star ship, being damaged by the itself-so-damaged Enterprise, crashes into the post modern age London. So after 2 hours of mass destruction and the nicely carried out 3D, we reach to
“Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before” 
and Khan is cryogenically frozen (there’s a chance of him returning).

(Though I revealed the whole story, there are tiny bits to be filled if you watch it)

Comparing it to it’s prequel and the original series, Star Trek: Into Darkness didn’t have a great plot but didn’t leave it’s predecessors behind when measured by the adrenaline level it induces into the audiences. There is no point comparing the movie to Wrath of Khan, or the famous ‘death scene’, as the story-line has been completely altered following the 2009 movie. Also I noted any Star Trek movie cannot be completed without Leonard Nimoy (a fairly labored metaphor would be the presence of Kajol in all the Karan Johar movies). Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine did a good job, but could not match the remarkable performance by Benedict Cumberbatch. 

On a personal note, I’ll go as far as to say that this has been the best release, since The Dark Knight Rises, and also the most debatable. If you open any of the reviews of this movie, the comments section is swarming with people fighting over the credentials of the movie, whether it was up to the Star Trek mark or just a slur on J.J. Abrams. So I would just conclude it as Trekkie or not, it is ATLEAST a one-time-watch, you won’t get bored.

The Key to Happiness is Needed When it is Locked

If I ask a question. "Are you happy right now?"

What would be your reaction? Many of you won't even stop to think. You'd be in a hurry to know what I have to say. Many might have stopped. And THOUGHT, putting pressure on your brains, and ending up being confused.

AM I HAPPY RIGHT NOW?

You might think the question is ambiguous. Are you happy, generally; or, should you think about a particular event that made you happy; should you be happy because you accomplished something; or are you happy because of a gift you got? Or are you just plain happy because you are listening to your favourite band?

Happiness can’t be defined. If you define it, you restrict it. It is dynamic. It can be found in things big and small, it can be found in failures. Is being happy at the time of a failure being shameless? No, if you tried your best. Be grateful about what you learned. Be optimistic about your future. And never stop doing. Doing anything! Learning something new. Even if it is learning how to replace buttons on your shirt. Do not learn to add in your CVs. Learn, because you had nothing else to do. Do not rely on money for happiness, but do not say ‘I want to be happy, I don’t need money’. I have never seen a person who is sad because he is able to buy all the things he needs, or has the freedom to experiment or visit new places.  

Nothing is perfect. Nobody is flawless. But everything has a balance. And happiness lies in a place where you have the freedom to imagine. You know you are happy when you can stay still; when you don’t need to yell at someone; when you can sit quietly; when you can smile for no reason; when you can resist from being what you don’t need to be; where you can diffrentiate between right and wrong.

Sometimes, it's okay to be not okay.

I won’t say plan EVERYTHING, but always stop to think when something wrong is being done, and when something life changing is happening.

I won’t say never keep a secret, but share with the ones you trust.

I won’t say leave everything up to ‘luck’, but you can’t control everything.

I won't say don't compete, just don't compare the results.

I won't say never be jealous of other people's success, but always congratulate and appreciate them.

I won't say don't be happy because of getting likes on your Facebook posts, but don't make it your sole purpose in life.

I won’t say don’t aim for a good placement or promotion, but never forget to live because of it.

I won't say never get angry, or never expect anything from others, but when something goes wrong, try to see things from the other person's point of view.

I won't say don't dress the best you can, but don't waste an hour daily trying to look like someone else.

Now, I ask again. "Are you happy right now?"

I can't answer this question, only write a blog about it. Because I know it cannot be fitted into one word.

forlorn

Another blog, with the same question in mind. What am I doing here?

"Have you made it large?" _Those are just words, aren't they? 

"He did it, why couldn't you" _These are just words. Are they?

When was the last time I sat down with a mug of hot chocolate, thinking to myself?
I don't remember.
When was the last time I sat down with the laptop trying to concentrate on some important work, but ended up wasting time on the internet?
I'm doing it right now.
When was the last time I sat down with my mom to discuss a new recipe?
I don't remember.
When was the last time I wrote whatever was coming into my mind where some strangers could read it?
I'm doing it right now.
When was the last time I painted, just for fun?
I don't remember.
When was the last time I was banging my head trying to design something, only because my career field needs it?
I'm doing it right now.

And, I am still a student! I wonder what the years have in store for me.
Was it worth it? Or should I just run off to a secluded place where only I can hear myself?

I can't run. I shouldn't run. I won't run.

I will question myself, fight with myself, answer myself.

I may fall, but I will learn. I may doubt, but I will concur. 

And no matter how much I try to run away, life will come after me. So maybe I'll greet it with open arms.

And at the end of the day, I will find the reason.

Those are just words.

THE BUS THAT LEADS TO NOWHERE

Today. Today, I find myself standing in this room full of mirrors. The sun I see is blue, it’s cold, but the light is warm. I can’t feel the air around me, but I know it’s supposed to be there. I suffocate in the presence of atmosphere, so I eradicate, I eradicate the unknown, I wonder what brought me here.

As a teenager, unaware as I was, and still am, I pondered over the magnificence of a leaf. Why does a leaf come into existence? How does it grow? If after getting detached from the plant, it dies away, why does it do so?

The other children always thought I had strange ways. That I was different, and as any different person, was tagged as weird.

When a child sees a leaf, he touches it; he relishes the moist feel of its surface and, sometimes, plucks it for no familiar reason. I believe, the reason is lack of knowledge. The lack of knowing that the reaction is unknown, or the anxiety of knowing it to be continuously so. And this is something I was well experienced in. I was a leaf which was plucked over and over.

 I had heard stories from my mother how it felt to live in an actual home, go to school and play with other children. No matter how much I always wanted these things, I never had the privilege. A small fate of turn had been the reason for what I am today. My grandpa fell a victim of cancer, and the substantial financial background was lost. My mother was married to a miner, my spiteful father. She was living in the conditions Mama never thought she would. There was an insufficiency of money, but the insufficient love overpowered it. After my elder sister was born, the financial status of the household improved, as Mama started working in other houses. After I was born, I used to visit these houses since the time I don’t remember. But the time from when I remember, that was the time my father died in a cave-in, some of these houses were homes, and some were standing just because the architect had constructed them to. There were people who said they belonged to the upper class, but now as I look up on them, they were no different from the people whom I live with.

My elder sister attended primary schooling for 3 years, but now both of us were going to be termed as illiterate. Mama said that it won’t make a difference for her as she would soon be married. So for the next five years, before she went off to the ugly baker’s house, she taught all she had learned, in school and the world outside the school, which she said “taught more”.

All day long I used to roam in the streets of Chakari, in search of inspiration to live, thinking about how others could always find some or the other mischief to do. Sister said that we belonged to a country known as Zimbabwe, and there are people outside our country who think we are lower than them. This concept was never clear to me. The concept of countries, the concept of lower people and the lower people being divided further.

As I grew up, I felt more and more that I didn’t belong to this world. I kept wondering how people can be happy. At the age of 18, Mama thought it was time for me to see, what is that it is there outside our village. So I moved to Chegutu into her cousin’s place. At the very first day I knew I won’t be welcomed here for long. So I immediately started looking for what I moved to this town, a reason. I got my first regular job as a bus conductor. I had to collect a piece of paper from the travellers and in return give other pieces of paper which were more apt for their purpose. Though I didn’t have enough money with me, but soon I decided to move out to a place of my own. I was taken as a tenant by an elderly couple, in their late 70s. Truly, my stay with them was the most exciting part of my life till then. Hearing the war stories from the now so-old-grown soldier, and his always-been-a-housewife lady, were something I used to look forward to. How having so different experiences and how they developed totally different attitudes towards life, but still managed to be happy together was something I had never bumped into.

At my job, I usually travelled to nearby towns with buses overloaded with people, but in the return journey it was quite quiet. The drivers had different shifts but there was this one particular man, who travelled with me most of the time. He always bragged that he belonged to one of the royal families of Europe, and frankly, I never believed him. He said his blood didn’t declare him to be royal, his deeds did. Though, I never understood him properly, he was one of the most inspirational people I have ever met. From him I learnt never to refuse. Whatever life brought from its tray to serve on our plates, was meant to be eaten by us.

He always said that of all the lads he had met, who moved from the nearby towns and villages, I was the wisest, and the most melancholic too. He thought I thought too much, and that I should be a little more free to commit mistakes.

In Chegutu too, I had developed relationships with people whom I counted as acquaintances, but who called me, their friend. Human intimacy was something which always eluded me. But somehow I managed to tumble along with these guys. They were a bunch of musicians; each specialized in creating music from a different instrument (including one of the vocal chords) who shared a common dream of becoming a “band” as they called in the “superior” countries. With them, I learned how the youth reacts to the world, and how it reacts to them. Of all that I encountered, one of the most astonishing things was change. An event so minute, which could have been easily ignored, can change a person with all its might. That night we all were returning from Kadoma, after they had performed in the town-hall and me, for I had to.

Our bus had just left the depot, when we heard what everyone, on the inside, hates hearing- the call, them yelling, “Stop! Wait for us”. As the driver unwillingly stopped, we saw two ladies hop up the bus.

One of them was a dull, old, white lady, wearing a brown coat over a black dress and a small hat, odd for a woman to wear. The other one was a younger blonde, more vigilant and excited. As I handed the maiden tickets for both of them, she passed a glimpse of the glow on her face, unto me. As she went and sat on the seat next to, who seemed to be too old to be her mother, her aunt or sister, the hollow men, not so different from me, began to discuss her grace. As the night darkened, and sleep captured most of the few humble minds on the bus, I observed the fragile one, as much as I could, as much as I shouldn’t. Her eyes never matched what she spoke of. Though, I wasn’t clear on what I heard her lips uttering, her actions well said she was trying to cheer up her mate, from something which had affected her as well. Folks thought she was a person who had the best of everything in her life, but it didn’t seem so to me.

As the sun came nearer to the horizon, and the darkness swept away, we reached our destination. The girl soon faded away from the words of my companions, but she didn’t leave my thoughts. There was only one thing on my mind- how. There was only one desire of my restless mind –to know how her vibes could be so positive, when it was clear to see, to whoever wanted to see, that she was, indeed, sad.

I could think of nothing, as of how her thoughts were being processed, and it was the moment when I realized, that I had more thoughts in my head than I could handle. They continuously swept between the idea behind arousal of a happiness and the regret for a full lifetime being away from this thought. As walked to my home, I saw a child, sitting in his garden, next to a plant, gently tapping the soil underneath it, with his mother by his side, I crossed a group of young men, laughing together, and two little girls, whose dolls were getting married. I saw the old folk of the town gathered near the church. They murmured that today is the day next to the last day, and they should thank the Almighty that what the town chaps had been spreading around that yesterday, the 21^st of December was going to be the end of the world, was untrue.

I passed a smile to them, as for them, the world was the same. But unaware as they were, like me, of the fact that one world had ended. And starting from today, this anonymous man would make something out of himself and the blessings He had reserved for him.

I always thought that my job doesn’t take me anywhere. I start from one place, go around, without knowing where I would go, and come back to the same place. I remembered every person in my life, because of whom, I was here. And I smiled. I am not wrong. My bus, and my life, leads me to no-where, BUT exactly now, here; this exact place where I’m supposed to be –this room full of mirrors.

The Secret of Life?

The desire to be known; the privilege of being different; the energy to get exhausted; the pride of being gifted; the blessing of an excited mind and the patience to experience.

If we take up any fictional hero and villain, like Superman and Lex Luthor, Batman and Joker, Spiderman and Lizard, or the very native Shaktimaan and Tamraj Kilvish, they have all the above traits in common. And in reality, all these traits, the good and the bad, are found in us too.

But then, where does the right and the wrong differ? The motives; what else? Their strength is comparable, their sufferings are equal. The truth is the same, then why do they perceive it differently?

For the bad, the good is bad, and for the good, the bad’s good is bad.
So which is the absolute good? Which has majority people on its side? Or which has humanity on its side?

But then again, what is humanity? To help fellow homo sapiens, or to survive, to satisfy the need for food, clothes and shelter?

At the time of slavery, the Africans were reluctant, but the so-called-superiors thought they were doing them a favor. Some Americans must have been kind to them, and some “slaves” might have been thinking it is for their own betterment only. So is the existence of a superior good only a paradox? If the number of Americans was more, was the need of many outweighed by the pity on the fewer? NOW, majority people think betterment was in the abolishment of slavery. But would we have had thought like this if slavery had still been in practice?

When a programming language is made, it is written such that at the compilation time of a program it finds the errors in the syntax. And since every program has a different output, the language cannot help in pointing out the logical errors. We are the metaphorical computer programs, and our program writers are we ourselves. The output effects many other users in the complex mathematics of life, but our outputs have to be decided by us. There are some basic rules, or syntax, our lives go by, things which are not in our control, but all the reasons and decisions are our own. No other can be blamed, two people can’t be the same and things change. All our choices have no already decided algorithms; each one makes a different algorithm for them. And the secret is: that there is no secret.

Life is one big sentence. There come comas and semicolons where you stop to question your existence, to answer your presence. But there is only one full stop. And you need to keep on writing till it comes, in your own hand writing, at your own speed!

Caffeine Free.

Time flew. "Seems like yesterday was the first time I saw you"- used to be such a cliche. I always knew one day you'd leave, but, so soon, it never occurred to me... Could I do something about it? Are we to be blamed? Will your innocence question me? An arrow of guilt passes through me, but it's overshadowed by the sorrow of losing you. Right now, the light is blurred, because a shadow of your memory lingers inside of me. You showed me a new world, your world, you made me a part of it, and I'll always be grateful! I'll miss your jumps, and I'll miss moist mouth on my feet. YOU, shall be thoroughly cherished my friend.

No matter where you are now, Coffee, do remember me as the silly girl from the corner house who always wanted to catch you by the tail. R.I.P.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=le34ygtODfI