Peeping Tom

I went down to the cinema for the first time in more than 18 months today. I have always felt a natural aversion to theatres; a sense of claustrophobic loneliness that suffocates slowly and leaves me gasping for a breath of fresh air.

They gave me the best seat in the house, right at the back of the balcony, and as I later realized, this turns out to be as good a vantage point as any to pursue voyeuristic endeavours, let alone mundane activities such as movie-watching.
Whenever the actor and his girl start getting it on, as if on cue, the couples in the audience cuddle up a little closer, hands tighten over shoulders, and sweet nothings begin wafting across the now infinitesimal distance between lip and ear.
It's so sickeningly sweet it makes my head swim .

The film, by the way, was 'Batman Begins', by Christopher Nolan, the same director who gave us the unforgettable 'Memento'; and despite working on a fundamentally weak premise, it does not disappoint. 'Batman Begins' continues to build on the oeuvre established by the Spiderman series of movies, of infallible yet sensitive superheroes with three-dimensional personalities, not just slam-bang-there-you-go-ma'am types.

Perhaps the only letdown is the token female interest- Katie Holmes- utterly under-utilized in a weak role. I wonder what Tom Cruise thinks about her height though; she pretty much towers over him, just like old Nicole Kidman used to.

I can almost hear the feminists screaming in my ears, and do correct me if I am wrong, but if the man is taller, it does make the couple more photogenic, no?

a la Winona

Since last week or so, everytime I walk into a mart, it has become increasingly difficult for me to resist an overwhelming temptation to pick up something from the shelves, slip it into my pocket and simply walk away.

I have even gone to great lengths in checking the positoning of the security cameras, and the vigilance of the personnel, and the only thing that prevented me from snapping up two extra-large bars of Swiss chocolate was an unexpected intervention from a hitherto unrecognised moral recess of my character that forced me to place the items on the billing desk.

Its not that I don't have the money, or that I am in need of thrills; I don't even have an urge to steal anything particularly expensive. Maybe these are early symptoms of kleptomania.
It is in moments like these that i feel great sympathy for actress Winona Ryder, who was convicted for shoplifting, and appeared in a daze throughout her trial. Interestingly, her favourite book is Franny and Zooey. When I see her, I am going to ask her to marry me. We must be made for each other.

P.S
I just saw Michael Stipe make a surprise guest appearance with his band on Boston Public( of all T.V. shows) and perform 'Losing my Religion' . R.E.M just make me so happy. The greatest living band in the world.

the hospital chronicles

Let me, at the outset, thank everyone for their kind wishes. I am truly touched, and deeply grateful. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. My mother is doing pretty good after the surgery , alive though not quite kicking , but well on the road to recovery.

All hospitals seem to have a particular smell, a sickly sweet smorgasbord of acrid vapours that waft into your olfactory receptors,smirk at the sheer helplessness of your condition, and eventally pummel you into a numb stupor.

No scholarship interview, or major college-entrance exam I have ever written, can compare with the excruciating ninety minute wait outside the operation theatre. There is just something utterly submissive about an operation, about leaving the well-being of a human being completely in the hands of another.

As I spent three sleepless nights in the ward with my mother, my only company was a beautiful, moving book called 'Norwegian Wood' by the celebrated Japanese author Haruki Murakami, and it is perhaps ironic that it is in such unhappy cirumstances, sharing the ward with a dazed lady who gave birth 2 weeks before time to a 1.67 kg waif, that i finally discovered my fictional alter ego - Toru Watanabe be his name.

By the way, it amazes me how nurses manage to keep in such good cheer amidst such disease, despair and often, death. God bless their souls.

Another thing. As i rummaged through my mother's medical files, I noticed something funny; evidently she had had three previous operations, two of which I knew were Caesareans for me and my lil sis, and discreet enquiries revealed that the third was a miscarriage.A bloody miscarriage. And I didn't even know.
Maybe that's why I feel so lonely all the time.
I miss my lost sibling.

oh hell

They've diagnosed my mother with fibroids in her uterus. I have no idea what fibroids are, all i know is that they are serious enough for the doctors to advise an immediate hysterectomy - the surgical removal of the uterus.

Mom will be operated on this Saturday, and despite the doctor's assurance that it is a fairly uncomplicated procedure, I can't help feeling a bit nervous about this. My last memory of a hospital, and this is about two years back, is watching my grandmother having a stroke and flopping around gasping for air, and then proceeding to die on me.

This is not going to be a fun weekend at all. Please God, please let everything be all right at the end of it.