Jodha Akbar - A Plead to Mr. Ashutosh Gowariker

I was procastinating on this for a long time now, unless I had to go through the pain of watching Jodha Akbar for the second time...

I had an eventful weekend. I saw Jodha Akbar for the second time last Friday and then went on a short 2 day trip to Kolkata, my home.

The trip seemed shorter. Talking of relativity...

So the moment I got back to my workstation in Bangalore (yeah, it got shifted about 3 weeks back), I decided to, in the interest of public service, to shoot an email to Ashutosh Gowariker asking him to shorten the movie to something less than the time it takes a medium sized star to turn into a white dwarf. Incase you are wondering as to why I do public service from my work station - well, thats how I am...

But I didn’t do the shooting, for 2 reasons

• I did not have Ashutosh Gowariker’s email ID
• I did not have Ashutosh Gowariker’s email ID

But since this is a blog with a fairly tenuous connection to the restricting limitations of real life, let us imagine that I actually did send this email to Mr. Gowariker.

Dear Ashutosh,

Your movie is too long. Infact, at the end of the movie, I got an SMS from the LIC agent that my Jeevan Bima Policy had matured. So while I was clearly elated, the part of the audience that didnt invest in LIC was clearly peeved.

So, in the interest of the public, I have taken the liberty to conduct a contest to elicit ideas to make Jodha Akbar shorter and sweeter. Several responded and am attaching here for your perusal and reference, the very best of those.

The Tansen Fan club of Teynampet
We are ok with the movie till the point where Jodha marries Akbar. After that we find, to quote Lord Vader, the lack of Tansen disturbing. Remember the scene where Akbar is in the Diwan-e-Aam (Sofa made from Mango tree) and this important event is interrupted by strains of Jodha singing “Man Mohanaa”? The emperor then declares the session closed and joins his lady love in singing some Krishna bhajans.

At this point, we believe Tansen should intervene and point out that Jodha is way off the original Raga in which the composition was set. He then goes on to demonstrate how it should be sung and Jodha is shamed and decides to go back to her Paattu maami to start over from Sarle Varise. Akbar then goes on to marry 700 more women and lives like every other Mughal emperor. Some harm and a lot of harem.

Length of Movie - 30 minutes.

The Gardening Club of Golf Greens

Akbar wins lots of wars. He then decides to marry Jodha. His army throws a bachelor party and invites Sufi singers to sing “Khwaja Jee”.

If you have sing the song, this is a plot by the Gardening Club of Panipat to assassinate the emperor for his reckless laying waste of gardens and nurseries in Panipat in 1556. This is exactly why the singers are symbolically wearing flower pots on their heads. Once the song finishes, Akbar joins in the Sufi trance and at that moment, one of the potheads releases a King cobra which goes on to kill the emperor with a deadly bite.

Of course, it’s not historically accurate, but hey, neither is your original movie.

Length of movie - 25 minutes

The Cookery Club of Calicut

We are OK with the movie till the point where Aishwarya Rai serves the emperor a lavish self-cooked Rajasthaani meal. Now, imagine a former Miss World cooking a palace meal. Now, we are not doubting that she could rustle up some Maggi noodles or perhaps microwave some MTR precooked meals, but hey, a full meal for the palace? Here is the shortening (not the culinary type, he he) that we recommend.

In the process of cooking Rajasthaani Kadhi, all the L’Oreal and Revlon cosmetics she is wearing mixes with the food. In addition, her diamond studded Longines watch falls into the mix.

So when she serves Akbar and Maha Maanga demands that it is customary for the chef to taste the meal in front of the emperor, she does, and ends up fainting as a result of a lack of a digestive enzyme for L’Oreal face wash. Maha Maanga says - “See I told you so”, and Jodha is banished from the kingdom and Akbar lives happily ever after eating Lamb Biriyani.

Length of movie - 45 minutes

The Murli Manohar Joshi School of Revisionist History - Mukut Manipur

This movie is not only unnecessarily lengthy, it is also a blatant distortion of history. Our problem with the movie is scene nr 1 - Akbar’s battle with Hemu. When Bairam Khan attempts to behead Hemu, his sword breaks into two and Hemu is unscathed. Bairam Khan is enraged and attempts to behead him again with another sword. That one also shatters. Hemu then reveals himself to be an avatar of Vishnu and everyone in the battlefield is humbled and the Mughals go back to their native Uzbekistan.

Length of movie - 5 minutes

The World Wide Fund for Nature

We are OK with the movie till Akbar’s attempt to tame the wild elephant. It is a complete insult to the elephant’s leg-eye-trunk coordination skills when you show it missing Akbar many times. Elephants are physically more agile than humans are. Here is what we propose. The elephant raises its foot to crush the emperor. It doesn’t miss.

Length of movie - 30 minutes.

p.s. : I must mention that one of the contest rules was to minimize the cost of editing process. So, as you can see, all these suggestions here focus on the critical turning points where the movie could have ended.

Regards...

Bollywood Women I love

Only a few days back, i was pondering about why in Hindi Film Industry we dont have many women-centric movies, and the ones we have show women mostly as prostitutes. One thought lead me to another and soon I had this array of thoughts about women in Hindi movies.

We can go on and on over the stereotypes of women in Indian cinema. Now that’s an easy thing to do, I thought why not try to work on something fresh. Women that don’t confine to socially set patterns; and surprisingly I found a huge array of films both parallel and commercial movies that have unusual heroines and these movies did enjoy commercial success. This ofcourse was initiated by Pakeezah, but nevertheless am glad that I thought about this.

Let me begin with what I see as stereotypes -

Women with strong sexual morals ,the wife, mother, sister and the good girlfriend.

Loose morals, very easy, think of Bindu, Helen you got it.The crafty women. This group is headed by the wicked mother in laws, sisters, bad friends etc. Lalita Pawar, Sashikala etc. lead this group.

Strong women. These women always fight against injustice, stand up for their rights but please note they normally do it for their husbands, brothers, fathers and are extremely virtuous in every respect. They may resort to violence and slaughter the villains but there is always the ‘Shakti’ theme behind it. It is disturbingly religious, I mean women behaving like that do need the religious back up. Think of movies like Phool Bane Angaray, Pratighaat, Mrityudand… see what I mean.

The sacrificing ones, there are plenty of movies that are about women of iron will. They go through all kinds of peril and emerge as a winner in the end. Personally these are the ones I genuinely dislike. I will not go in details but examples are Rajshri Brothers films, Saajan Bin Suhagan even Aradhana (no good can ever come out of sleeping with Rajesh Khanna) and so on.

What then do I mean by women who don’t confirm to patterns? My women are not unrealistically strong but are normal women who show genuine courage and strength. Not glorified symbols of virtue but a normal woman. Do Hindi films ever show women like that? Surprisingly the answer is yes, not many but quite a few. I am giving you my top choices to illustrate the point.

Arth, both the women are actually normal, in fact Smita has absolutely no qualms about sleeping with a married man and her eventual psychotic disorder is also excellently portrayed. Shabana is the strong one, and what she does to Kulbhushan in the end is exactly how any normal woman with some self respect will behave. Arth was a huge success. In case you haven’t watched it do so, it’s a great movie.

Aandhi, Suchitra Sen doesn’t go back even though she realizes that she loves her husband. It is an exceptional movie about a politician’s career and her failed marriage that can never be restored. But it’s Gulzar and he is simply incapable of disappointing.

Anahat, it’s in Marathi but I have to include it. It’s my topmost choice. Based on the ancient Indian system of niyoga, the theme is simple, extremely well made. I will always be thankful to Amol Palekar for making a movie like this.

Astitva, that’s why I simply love Tabu. The heroine Aditi (isn’t that wonderful!) is the most traditional wife who finally speaks her mind out and decides to make her life better.

Bandini, to most people it seemed like endless suffering of an innocent girl. But remember Nutan kills Ashok Kumar’s wife and goes to him in the end. True he was her lover and circumstances forced their relation to end, but how many heroines kill the wife?

Chandni Bar, Tabu is a bar dancer who can’t escape circumstances. But this is one very unusual strong woman and an excellent movie.

Damini, the maid’s rape was no business of Meenakshi, yet she fought for her and even went against her family and husband. It’s actually one of my favorite films. Damini inspires me. The heroine is truly strong and fights without being the goddess. It’s probably one of the best movies with a woman in the lead role.

Doosra Admi, Yash Chopra surprisingly brings some normal women in his abnormal movies. Actually let’s not be mean, he made few really bad films but some of them are very good. In this movie Rakhi wrecks a young couple’s life because she sees her dead lover’s image in the young man. Sashi plays her dead lover and Rishi is the young man.

Fire, for it has lesbian relationship in it. And it potrays accoss the silent revolution of two unwanted women. I may or may not approve the way they take, but this movie is special for me simply because they donot fathom to supression.

Guide, Dev Anand is a very special person. Of course because of his looks and for bringing in some most unconventional feminine as well as masculine images to Hindi cinema. We now know him as the biggest crazy guy in Bollywood but he brought in some major changes. I had read the book Guide and I have to admit the movie is better. Waheeda leaves her husband, not because he is abusive or evil, simply because she falls in love with the guide and wants a better life than stifling in her loveless marriage. She pursues her career and when she falls out of love again she makes it clear. Rosie (that’s Waheeda) is one of the best heroines we ever had. And the character is so real - not deviod of any faults, but strong since she has the guts to follow her heart.

Hu Tu Tu, Gulzar again. Tabu’s a spoilt brat who eventually becomes an activist. It’s not one of the best films of Gulzar, but the two women characters are remarkable. Suhashini Mulay plays Tabu’s mother and does something human and natural, sleeps with her mentor to rise to power. Tabu on the other hand gets pregnant by Sunil Shetty but never thinks of marrying him because she knows marriage as such is only a social stupidity and love is what counts.

Hum Tum, though definitely inspired by ‘When Harry met Sally’ the film had very little in common with the English one. It’s a rather refreshing movie. Rani does two great things, sleeps before marriage and is willing to plunge in a normal life after becoming a widow. These two most normal things are so no no in Hindi movies that a normal woman was a welcome change.

Insaf Ka Tarazu, Another favorite of mine. If you haven’t watched it, please do so. Zeenat Aman is a model who loses her rape case because a model is ‘loose’ anyway. Male chauvinism is at its peak in this movie.

Ijazat, Two very unusual women, Rekha leaves the husband who cheats on her, Anuradha Patel the woman who refuses to marry and prefers live in. Only and only Gulzar could make a movie so touching and honest. The best part of the movie is the clarity and honesty of every character.

Kya Kehna, pregnant Preity Zinta keeps her baby. An out and out hopeless movie but has something different, specially when she doesn’t marry the biological dad. The only tragedy here is she chooses Chandrachoor over Saif!

Lamhe, a very soapy romance, yet the heroine (Sridevi) marries someone who was in love with her mother. This is definitely not conventional.

Mirch Masala, Ketan Mehta made some outstanding movies but went nuts afterwards like Mahesh Bhatt. It’s painful to think a guy who made Bhav ni Bhavai, also made Oh Darling yeh hai India and Maya Memsaab. But this masterpiece is about few unusual women who find the most unique way to avenge the villain. Please see it if you haven’t it’s the best movie on women empowerment.

Mandi, the fight of prostitutes against the moral police. This is Shaym Benegal, so you can’t go wrong.

Mammo, another Shaym Benegal movie about two sisters. Farida Jalal we all know is a great actress but this is her best, believe me. Also the way it explores Indo Pak relation is outstanding.

Paheli, the traditional village bride Rani chooses a ghost over her useless husband. It’s a fantastic, erudite movie. I love the folk flavor that’s in it. The puppets, the narrative style, the language and of course Shah Rukh’s in it.

Pinjar, what a beautiful movie. It’s that side of partition that was rarely shown. Urmila is great in it and I remember crying for weeks after watching it.

Satta, Raveena is forced into politics but once she is in it, she does it well. Not a great movie but yes an unusual woman there.

Samay, yes copied from seven, every bit but did you ever think Brad Pitt would be played by Sushmita Sen? Not only that she is a comfortable single mother.

Suraj ka Satvaan Ghoda, I have read the book too. A masterpiece, and each woman is so unique in their way particularly Jamuma, played by Rajeshwari.

Thoda sa Roomani ho Jaaye, I have innumerable reasons to love Amol Palekar. This movie questions the very masculine essence of feminity. I have watched it at least 50 times and can go on another 50 times. Anita Kanwar is in her 30’s unmarried and is naturally scorned by the so called ‘women’.

Zubeidaa, Benegal again and based on a true story. But I love stories about women who don’t confirm to patterns.

There are few more movies, I am not going into the details of but have unusual women.Razia Sultan, Pakheezah, Umrao Jaan, Lajja, Dayra, Sardari Begum and Saathiya.

On Fooding... and on Schooling

I agree I have been out of circulation for a while. Simple, I passed out of high school long back. In fact my school days can be actually described as ‘Once upon a time way back in the 80’s….’

But, school is one thing I am glad to get rid of. I can’t think of anything redeeming about my school. Insipid text books, brown paper covered stuff, plastic water bottles, oiled hair braided with ribbons (O God ! O God! And I am agnostic), black Bata shoes, songs in morning assembly. Ok, I will stop here but you get the point. I am not a huge fan of my school days and I don’t miss anything. The only time I see my school is in dreams and that I have very little control on. But ofcourse, this is only one aspect of it. Otherwise, school gave me my best of friends and teachers, and ofcourse some lovely memories, but thats different. Here, am only talking about the generation gap and what effect it has on schools.

The other day I had sometime to kill so I went to a superstore with my daughter and started looking at stationery and stuff children take at school. I have no clue why I had missed on all this but the range of pencil boxes, lunch boxes, school bags totally shocked me. My daughter loves to shop for stationeries and accessories. She is not that fond of dresses!(wonder if the hospital guys goofed up somewhere!) but she just loves to shop for pens, pencils, pencil boxes, pouches, etc. etc. And I was surprised to see such vast collections in the store.

It made me think of the material stuff I had in school. Every year there was a shabby green ‘Duckback’ brand schoolbag and almost everyone had the same thing. It was a strong steady bag that lasted for years. I deliberately damaged mine every year to get a new one; I was not a good kid. There were only two or three brands of pencil, the common one being ‘Camel’ with white base and pink flowers. The funny thing is all this mattered. If someone had a pencil with different design she would show it to the entire class and we would all take turns on holding it with some reverence. There was only one type of eraser a white square with a green tip and some picture on it. Everyone had steel lunch boxes; I don’t remember ever seeing fancy lunch boxes with attached spoons and stuff (I saw that very recently when my daughter started taking them to schools).

But what I remembered most and missed was the food that was clandestinely available near schools. Apart from the usual junk food there was a guy who came with an assortment of wonders. Phantom candy cigarettes, NP brand rose mint, red and black churan, ber (really small and tart ones with rock salt), raw imli, aamda and mouri logens (this is what we called in Bengali for sweet aniseed that came in attractive packets, the most common being a joker). He also had little cards with photographs of movie stars, whistles and few small toys. For 2Rs. you could buy loads of stuff, only most of us never got more than that as pocket money.

But the person I loved most was the cake wala. This guy had an aluminum trunk (could be tin, well metal) and shouted “Cake bolo cake”. He had multicolored collection of pastries and it enthralled me. My favorite was the gulab cake with overwhelming rose essence and dark pink frosting. Even today the very idea of rose cake fascinates me.

However, life is not about sweet recollections. It’s not about ‘O, what fun!’ My mother did everything in her power to amputate junk food from my system. I had to hide everything. Of course, she caught me from time to time but I was good at hiding this stuff. Life, you see was a continuous conflict and mothers always won (somehow, now when am a mother I see changes, now daughters win - people like me are born losers I guess). Anyways, I wonder if anyone remembers Cadbury’s Double Decker chocolate. For some reason it vanished from the market and it was my favorite chocolate back then.

Somehow for a long time I thought my mother was responsible for it. I vividly recall that particular time bracket! My mother was particularly cruel. She forced Complan, Horlicks or some of those punishment concoctions down my system everyday. She had replaced my favorite Sharbat-e-Azam with some fruit squash, she had even commented on my addiction to Pan candies. Naturally, I saw my mother behind all conspiracies. But that’s not my fault, anyone who grows up on Bollywood knows that you are either good or bad. The End. And for me, during my growing years, my mother was the Villain - typical Amrish Puri stuff. Ofcourse now, my views have changed completely.

P.S: Maa, no matter how much I fight with you, crib and complain, I know you are the best - whatever you did during my growing years, were for my good only, according to you! So your intentions were genuine, so what if the ways were horrible! And I love you for that.

Bending Gender Abuses

So why is it that so many downright awful swear words and abuses/gaalis have gendered undertones..and often overtones? Why is there a gender bias even in absolute unimportant issues like abuses? Say for example...

son of a bitch - You're abusing the son...but then, why you need to go through his mother? why? whats the point??

Mother and Sisterfucker. again..the latter f-person is being attacked..with his mother and sister being invoked in the bargain. hmm. I wonder why?

Is it because women are the symbolic capital of the stereotypical family and attacking them gets through to the whole clan? Or is it because women have always been considered as private property of men, and not any individual identity at all! If Yudhishthir can decide to put Draupadi on "daao" in his game, as as he did with his kingdom and other porperties... then probably it is only justified that we abuse the mother or the sister of the person we want to abuse!

Then again, there are various swear words that refer to male and female genitalia. Does reducing someone/referring to them by their sex organs go to the very core of who they are? I would hope not because surely there is more to us than procreation and sex...however important those may be...so whats the deal with dick/head and cunt and arsehole?

Hmm..points to ponder. Any thoughts?

Women centric movies in Indian Cinema

The other day when I was watching Pakheezah (did I spell it right?), I was thinking about women centric cinema. For that matter even women centric novels in our country - how many are they? Very few...

I was wondering why. Ofcourse I know the answer, it is because we have a patriarchal society at large. ITs ok, no big deal. But what actually struck me is that, even the few women centric movies that we have - almost 95% of them are about "Prostitutes". Be it Pakheezah, or Umrao Jaan, or even the modern day, Chameli - any woman oriented topic, as if by some Universal rule, has to be about prostitutes... Why?

I wonder why... does anyone have any answer to that?

A new India

This refers to my daughter and her friends - all of them around 8 years old. Three days back when we celebrated Independence Day, my daughter actually told me about what happened on 15th Aug'1948 - how people celebrated Independence day that day... she told me she had seen this in T.V. (next time I curse television, I should think twice). She went on telling me stories about Independence Day - its importance, its implications, and its relevance! And I was amazed at the amount of interest she displayed. Honestly, I remember when I was 8years old, I was not half as knowledgeable as my daughter then, and apart from what my class books taught me, I had absolutely no interest in anything else.

Then there was a get together - and there were 3 kids - all 8 years - and I was amazed to see them discuss Abhinav Bindra (last post of mine, I even misspelt his name), discuss Olympics statistics and even the guy amongst them (Mayank) gave out some typical terms of games (sorry dont ask me what they were, cos I absolutely have no clue) and tried to explain the ladies out there (Ranjana and Simar) as to why India lacks behind in Olympics. The same day I heard them discuss about Lunar Eclipse (there was one that day) and its implications...

This is the new age Indian generation - very knowledgeable (and mind you, I am not talking about bookish knowledge here), and more importantly, eager to know things - and rationally analyze them. You just cant tell them that you shoudnt have food during lunar eclipse - you have to give them reasons as to why you are making such a statement... and I must say - I am impressed with this lot - not as a mother, but as a citizen of this country - am proud to have this generation to pass over this country to... I am confident that they will take our nation to greater heights... and with that, Jai Hind...

P.S. : They know the difference between National Song and National Anthem, their respective authors, and the full songs...wow! There is so much to learn from them - Main paanchvi pass se tez nahin hoon (ok make that 3rd std)

Many a Slip

A flea and a fly in a flue
Were caught, so what could they do?
Said the fly, "Let us flee."
"Let us fly," said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.

It is true, English is a strange language. The homonyms, homophones and homographs can be bewildering.

You pronounce words that are spelt differently in the same way; you spell the words the same way and pronounce them differently; as if it wasn't enough there are words that are spelt and pronounced the same way but mean different things depending on context. And then my daughter and my husband laugh at my pronounciations and make fun of my "bangali" accent!!! So not fair :-(

You think I am exaggerating? Just consider.

Aisle and isle are pronounced the same way but mean different things; ail and ale, blew and blue, cereal and serial. These are all homophones. Think of the fun confused people with limited knowledge of English have with 'sow', 'sew' and 'so', or with 'two', 'to' and 'too', or with 'do', 'due' and 'dew'; with 'doe' and 'dough' or 'deer' and 'dear'.

Row might be spelt the same, but it means a line or to propel a boat when pronounced to rhyme with 'roe' (and there is another confusion); and to have an argument when pronounced to rhyme with 'how'. Bow when rhymed with 'how' means something altogether different from what it means when pronounced to rhyme with 'low'. These are homographs. The confusion they can cause is a great source of pain for people like us. Then there's confusion caused by changes due to tenses. Take 'lead' for instance.

Homonyms are something else. When a word has the same spelling and is pronounced the same way but has different meanings, like bill, fair, pulse or row… such words might soar the hearts of people like the crossword compilers, but again, I am in deep trouble.

Like I am always in trouble with this English Language. Like the other day, I was chatting with a friend and got baffled when he said that he is trying to screw up courage to propose to a young lady. I inquired if he wasn't too young, if he didn't need to be settled before he could propose marriage. Surely he'd have to declare his intentions to the young lady and see if she was favourably disposed, before popping the question?

That was first time I came across the usage. It seems the meaning of the word 'propose' has become wildly distorted while I wasn't looking. He meant 'propose' in the sense of professing interest, I think.

To propose means primarily to make a proposal, declare a plan or a course of action for something; to present for consideration; to intend; to put forward or nominate for appointment to an office; or to ask someone to marry you.

The synonyms for propose are to advise, aim, declare oneself, offer, pop the question, project, purport or to suggest.

If we consider it as a noun, proposal means something proposed such as a plan or a supposition, an offer of marriage and the act of making a proposal. Here the synonyms are mostly marriage related – a marriage offer, a marriage proposal, and then proposition.

Ah, proposition is an entirely different thing. As a noun, it means a statement that affirms or denies something and is either true or false; a proposal offered for acceptance or rejection; an offer for a private bargain, especially for sexual favours; and the act of making a proposal, and a task to be dealt with.

As a verb though, there is only one thing proposition means: suggest sex to, or as many of my young cousins primly put it, to make an indecent or an immoral proposal to.

Young people these days take language and stand it on its head, and it takes old-timers like me a while to figure out what exactly is meant. To me, to propose meant, given the context, offer of marriage. But to my young friend, it meant declaring himself to be enamoured.

Boy: I want to marry you. I want you to be the mother of my children
Girl: But how many do you have?

Twixt the intent and speech, there definitely seem to be many a slip these days. Humour me for being an old fogey and I grant you English is strange, but still: as to the confusion between to propose, proposal and proposition and to proposition, I may feel tolerant, but when it comes to mistaking prepositions and propositions… the mind boggles.

Kaahin Door Jab Din Dhal Jaaye

I leaned back in my cane chair and smiled. You smiled back. The cool aftermath of rain left the evening scented and becalmed. Too early for frogs. The balcony had some puddles left still, but our corner was dry, our chairs in the usual places, the table between.

I hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on against the arriving night. We sat savouring the evening. The scent of raat ki raani arose presently, and I smiled again. You smiled back. So many memories hinge on that shrub and its fragrant flowers, do they not?

As dusk deepened into night I went in and fetched something to drink. You raised yours in silent toast. We sat together, as always. On the balcony, among the scents of night blooming shrubs planted by some thoughtful gardener long ago, we sat together, as always.

The descending night brought its own haunting sounds. A flute sounded plaintively, poignantly. It was untutored, utterly without sophistication, but the melody tugged at the heart. Some workman from the nearby construction site, surely. We exchanged smiles, my question unasked and your reply unnecessary. What did it matter what raga it was?

A car sped by. I frowned. You must have sensed that frown even though we were sitting in the dark. I felt rebuked by your silent reproof. Well, I suppose people did have to get from place to place.

There was no need for conversation. I thought your thoughts, and you could read mine, always. A glance and a smile, a squeeze of fingers or a nudge spoke for us. That distant sound of drums and cacophony, we shrugged at another procession to immerse another idol; that mournful hoot of a goods train before its wheels beat a rhythm on the tracks that lingered a long while after the train passed, we sighed in unison. So many memories attached to the sound of trains.

I went to fetch some more drink, negotiating the furniture easily in the dark. I sighed as I sat down. You looked disapproving. I was sighing in contentment, mostly, in gratitude for all the perfect evenings that went before. One more evening... You nodded.

Something brought the fireflies out. I watched in surprise. I always liked fireflies and all that they evoked. Some flitted close enough to try and grab. I didn’t, of course. You wouldn’t have liked that.

It was getting late. A distant dog barked in impotent fury at some slight. I got up regretfully. I folded and put away the chairs, dragged the table to a safe corner so it wouldn’t get rained on. I murmured a good night to you. Another evening gone by.

I went to eat my solitary dinner.

Because I Love You

She loved and trusted her. Her every step watched over, guided and protected. Then she grew up. Her every step watched over, guided and protected still, she chafed. There was the whole wide world to explore and learn. But she was hemmed in, penned and bound by a litany of you mustn’t, you shouldn’t, you can’t, it is not done. Or whats worse, she was told that the time has not yet come. And all that she wanted to do, would be rejected with only one excuse, "tomar ja moner icche, bor er shonge puron koro" (whatever your heart wishes, fulfill them with your husband).

If she had ever voiced the question, crying, “why are you doing this,” she had been told in hurt and loving tones that were actually implacable, “because I love you.”

**************************************************************************

She loved and trusted him. Her every action watched, every move noted, her world small as ever; still hemmed in, penned and bound by you can’t, you shouldn’t, you mustn’t, and more. Or whats worse, she was told that the time has gone to explore her dreams; she was told its time she should mature, shoulder responsibility and be practical. And all that she wanted to do, would be rejected with only one excuse, "eishob korar shomoy periye geche; biyer aage koroni keno?" (the time has gone for you to chase your dreams, you should have fulfilled your desires before marriage!).

If she’d ever thought to ask “why are you doing this,” she would have been told “because I love you” with the same implacability.

***********************************************************************

She discovered bonsai. All her hemmed in, penned and bound realities shaped her trees. She became particular. She grew trees from seedlings, saw them as saplings and urged and nudged and pinched them into the shape of her vision. Then she used wires. If she thought her first seedling grown into sapling reaching out to experience more of the world ever asked her, “why are you doing this,” she’d have gone on twisting the wire around the branches to bend and hold them to the perfect front view and back that she envisaged for the young tree, and she’d have whispered “because I love you.”

Her collection of imprisoned trees, her miniature world grew as she aged. Unnaturally shaped to imitate nature, with hollows and lightning-struck scars and more detail, her trees grew. Her loving mother, who defined her boundaries when she was a child, who tainted her pubescent and teenaged perception of the world, was long dead now; her husband, who refined those boundaries and fences and limits, dead for a month.

She was old, herself. But not so old that she couldn’t dig a patch and find the perfect spot in the sprawling grounds her house was set in; it was the mansion and grounds that she was given in marriage to as much as her husband, by her mother. She was going to plant that tree, her first seedling sapling young tree that she stunted into submission; plant it in soil that would let it grow, now at forty years of age. At liberty to grow as it pleased at last.

“Are you crazy,” her sons screamed at her. “That tree will fetch thousands for its age alone. You are destroying it.” They took her potted world away from her to be cared for by a gardener. She was taken aback.

Bewildered, she whispered the words, “why are you doing this.” And she received an honest reply.

“Because these bonsai are money.”