Often in life, it takes one Bollywood movie to get your sentiments rolling.
I was faced with one bleak-looking Saturday and thinking about how I’d rather not meet anyone, I set up my laptop to stream this old movie on YouTube – of Amitabh and Jaya Bachhan, titled Mili. I remembered seeing it as a child but as with most things then, my memory wasn’t at its strongest. All I could think of was kids dressed up in fancy clothes parading on a terrace with the gay Jaya in the lead.
I colored my Mandala set of coloring book as I watched this movie, sitting on the dining room, which has rarely been used for the said person. It ended with a lot of tears and emotions. Mixed, bottled up, and repressed feelings and sentiments that are so common these days.
Cinema mirrors life, or the vice versa. This phrase could well be the successor of the perennial, ‘What came first – the egg or the chicken!’. We Potterheads would just leave the discussion with a comment about how it’s an infinite circle without a beginning or an end.
Movies have immense power – but you already know that don’t you? Or you wouldn’t see little kids literally scared to death while there’s a mob threatening the school bus outside because they want a film to be banned.
But movies have other powers as well – those that enable you to look deeper within yourself and realize a few hard things in life. I had been struggling with some decisions in the past few weeks. I have asked my friends, family and colleagues. knowing fully well that their answers would never give me that clarity of thought unless I arrived at them, myself. I think I know now what to do. The universe is your friend – it’s cruel, it’s kind, it’s funny, and it’s basically there for you. Maybe sometimes you gotta wait patiently and listen in.
Watching Mili was a reminder about our life.
I lost my grandmother to cancer. I always thought I’d write about her, but then I decided I couldn’t or shouldn’t write about her. Did I have the authority to do so? Did I love her enough?
I never showed her my emotions when she was going through her toughest phase. Most of us didn’t. You don’t go breaking hope by being weak right? When she was really weak, I just went to the terrace and cried my heart out to my best friend. I told her, just please come. Just please come because you are so brave and because you are so lovable and so cheery. Just please come and meet her? She needs your spark and cheer. How have I never introduced you to her, babe?
The call satiated me. My friend was in a whole different city but she promised. She’s always been that positive, beautiful and pragmatic source of inspiration.
Despite living in the same city, we were far – my gran’s house and mine. We used to kinda meet once in a fortnight. We tried to make weekly visits, but I don’t think we were regular.
Can you imagine her pain and sorrow that she prayed for mukti. To be liberated from all these trivially hurtful word-ly things.
When I met Grandma that final time, I knew she said goodbye to me.I knew it was the last. She took my leave with a kind of apology. The I can’t do it anymore. I touched her feet, went to the car, shed some secret tears and then we tried to act normal.
That was that, you know.
That was that.
And strangely, that matters to me.