When you find yourself in unknown parts of the world, trying to finish some work assignment or a presentation while nibbling on your croissant and listening to some white noise to gain concentration,
always try to find some time for yourself, to gather your thoughts, to introspect and retrospect, to write your thoughts down to crystallize the concoctions of your brain over a cup of coffee and to listen to some music to enjoy those stolen moments,
because it is important to find your own story at the end. The story of our life to break us free from ourselves and from the tangible and intangible object, so even if our body can’t walk through walls and obstructions but our imagination and soul can.
Paris is no stranger to literature. It has been the centrum of not only the classics such as The Tale of Two Cities(Dickens) and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame(Hugo) but also Paris, France of Gertrude Stein and My Life in France by Julia Child. Henry Miller’s Quiet days in Clichy has a scene in which a policeman arrives at Joey’s and Carl’s apartment and questions them about Colette’s presence. By the grace of Franz Kafka Carl isn’t charged and only given a warning and that makes the statement ” It is Paris, even the policemen are literary” true.
I am in constant search of that literary Paris. Shakespeare and Co. is definitely part of my universe and so is Librairie Galignani on Rue de Rivoli. A part of me is always looking for that moment where I am in tight quarters with the books, the place with a personality of a human being, the one that makes you stay there and stand there leafing through myriad collections of timeless pieces. The place that tells the story, the place where books aren’t neatly stacked on shelves but in bundles. The place where they breathe and are allowed to be dog eared, where they aren’t an embellishment to an institution but an integral part that makes the institution. And I found one such place. In the city of lights! A friend had recommended Abbey Bookshop to me a while ago and this time I wasn’t in any mood to see the gimmicks of tourists on Rue de Bûcherie, I wanted to be in a quiet place which isn’t laden with people adorned with mini cannon sized cameras and taking photos of anything that moves or doesn’t.
It was one of those days when I wasn’t carrying my umbrella and it rained cats and dogs. Drenched, I entered the book store, dried myself a little and began my adventure in this heaven on 29 Rue de la Parcheminerie 75005 Paris. The place reminded me of Doctor Glas of Soderberg, Raskolnikov of Dostoyevsky, Holden Caulfield of Salinger, and Huckleberry Finn of Twain. It seemed all of them were having a conference there in their night suits while sitting on their warm and comfortable arm chairs generating the còsagach (competitor of Hygge these days) in the ambience.
I browsed through the various sections for hours and so did the two other people who were there in the store with me. The place has so many books that it seems to defy the laws of Physics. Brien, the owner, told me that gravity had its way many times there. I got my copy Chekov’s farces and polar opposite Miller and his escapades in NYC and Paris and decided to leave but it was still raining very hard. I asked Brien if by any chance he sells umbrellas as well, he went inside and fished for an umbrella and gave it to me and said with the usual Canadian warmth “Bring it back whenever it is a sunny day.”
With a smile on my face and an umbrella over my head, I knew I will be back again.
I didn’t want to write this post but George Whitman’s words illuminating over the bookstore made me realize that if I want to be frère lampier then I have to be ready to light the metaphorical lamps.
The visit was akin to a pilgrimage for me. Situated by the river Seine in the latin quarters, the store does nothing but embellishes the bibliophile quotient of the city of lights.
The store is enormous and it holds so many books that it seems the place has achieved the best Weissman score for its compression algorithm. Initially the store was at 12 Rue de l’Odéon and was used as an office by Fitzgerald couple, T.S. Eliot, Hemingway. The owner of the store, Sylvia Beach, was the one who put James Joyce’s Ulysses into publishing.
The place has a beautiful cat that is not to be disturbed and I really admire the concept of no photography inside. At the entrance or by the bench one can find those tourists, with DSLRs larger than medieval cannons, looking through the eye piece of those massive devices and asking their friends/families/fellow travelers to pretend reading a book. How many photos and what types of photographs they are aiming at? Ich warum nicht!! Despite all this harakiri, there is a vibrant energy here that is scarce to find. The bookstore has rooms like chapters in a novel and Whitman had rightly described it by saying “Where the streets of the world meet the avenues of the mind.”
It is a place where entire world comes, stays for a while and then leaves and for whatever time I was there, those moments were moments of Hygge for me.
I feel happy when I find such movies coming out of the Indian production houses. When you watch a movie you are investing your time in an experience that you would like to cherish. There can be many reasons why a writer, director, and other members gather to create a motion picture. It can be a message they want to pass across, want to portray a character and its development, financial reasons and many more. The movie Newton succeeds on many levels such as acting and storytelling. It is about a young Government officer who has been sent to a naxal infested area for conducting elections. He is single minded and would do anything to see that his job is done. The moral fiber and integrity of his character are exemplary of how one should act. The film reflects on various aspects of elections in the largest democracy in the world in a dark comic fashion. The dialogues of Raghubir Yadav are punchlines and the constant bickering between Aatma Singh and Newton is one can relate to the experiences one might had in the Govt. offices.
Before Issac Newton proved the three laws of motion everyone had their own laws – church had its own, other astronomers had their own, and rest of the people believed on what they chose to believe. Issac Newton showed the world (earth is an inertial frame of reference) that the same law is applicable to everyone and we are bound by the same laws and the same message is passed by the film.
I sometimes wonder why Scandinavian skies are so dreamy. Whenever I am there it feels I am in a limbo.
Photo Credits : Wikipedia
Last week I watched this movie while having my early dinner. Klumpfisken or The Sunfish, a Danish movie. The sunfish also known as Mola Mola is the heaviest bony fish on earth.
Photo Credits : National Geographic
Coming back to the movie, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about the movie as it isn’t pretentious. In today’s world that is extraordinary. It’s a story about a fisherman and his struggles, a marine biologist and her perspectives. The beautiful sky, the virgin beaches, and life like emotions add to the plot of real people with real life and real stories. If that’s not how movies should be then I don’t know what movies are for.
This post has been in the draft mode for a long time, to be precise – since the day I watched the masterpiece of Nolan and it was the day when the film was released in US. I watched the first show itself and as expected I was in awe with it. Memento, The Prestige, The Dark Knight series, Inception, Interstellar all of his works tell the story that Nolan charms his audience by presenting something that hasn’t been done before and does so audaciously and his assiduousness often succeeds. Dunkirk takes you to the beach city of France where the battle of Dunkirk was fought.
Memento employed the method of going back and forth in the past and telling the story non linear and reverse chronological fashion and same non linear method was used for Dunkirk as well. The storytelling is impeccable in the sense that three different narratives are there in the film with different protagonists and Nolan used all possible form of war – air, water, and land. One thing to note here is that all those narratives took place in three different times and not simultaneously but the place for the events was the same. It is similar to the questions in my head when I receive letters of those people in my mailbox who used to live in the apartment before I moved. What was their life? How did they keep the apartment? What side did they keep the bed?
The three stories in the movie augmented with Hans Zimmer’s music keep the tension alive in theater. Every minute of the movie has been utilized to its maximum efficiency. One doesn’t worry about the bigger war but only the one that is taking place in Dunkirk and eventually realize that the place – Dunkirk is the subject. Another masterpiece from Nolan!
Few days ago a friend of mine was telling me about a playlist of songs on death; it can be unnerving to some and gratifying to a few. People slow down at the end, just like when you are reaching the end of a book, you would try to absorb as much as possible and adjust your pace. May be this calibration manifests because we aren’t ready to break the bonds with the characters of the book, yet or self correction due to guilt consciousness.
One of J.D. Salinger’s characters shoots himself at the end of the story – an unpredictable end. Reader is caught off guard. Ending a book on death is anachronistic and the contemporary modern art affirms that it is here to help us forget the proverbial end.
A wonderful French movie from 1994 directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski touches upon the subject of loneliness, old age, friendship and one of the few film that has 100% ratings on both metacritic and rotten tomatoes. It revolves around a retired judge whose experiences of life has made him cynical, although he is insightful and anecdotal. Enters Valentin, a young woman who is a runway model, in the judge’s life and the movie goes into a different realm. Their friendship blossoms and they share a unique bond. When we get experience of life, the joys, the sorrows we start viewing the world with a focused eye and with some predefined rules set in our minds but it can always be fruitful to come in contact with those who are viewing the world with a different perspective.
Ghazals are one of the purest form of expression I have experienced in my life till now. The metaphor clad meters chalk out the palpable feelings of lovers howsoever hyperbolic and exorbitant they may seem. They are all so foolishly romantic that they seem incredible and prodigious.
In one of the ghazals of Ameer Minai performed by one of the artist, he recounted the tale of Chandidas and Rami. Chandidas was a poet famous in the medieval period and his poems are many times used to draw parallels between human and divine love. Then, Chandidas was a priestly class while Rami was a washerwoman and the love between them was not only frowned upon but impossible in the era of division and class. They took their love as sacred as the love between Radha and Krishna; Chandidas refused to forgo his love for Rami and also his priestly duties in the temple much to the despair of his family. Many legends say that he was arrested by the queen and later whipped to death but no one knows the true story.
Why the story of Chandidas and Rami holds significance? Much of later Bengali literature, art, and societal thought found its foundation in the legend. The urge to show the face of society and the characters involved without any exogenous and dramatic variables became an integral part of the art. The spirit of defiance and being recalcitrant in the time of social disapproval might have carved the room for breadth in the thought process.