I have been away for a while now, attribute it to professional early mid life crisis and regulatory change happening in the investment banking domain. But i have promised myself to be more active now.
So what got me out of my slumber - as you would have guessed i watched Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. The fact that im writing about it clearly means that i loved the movie. I'm the sort of audience who will live the movie for those 3 odd hours, i will cry, i will wince in pain, i will shut my eyes, i will feel nauseated with disgust. So i like my movies to engage me, take me on that ride. Which ofcouse BMB did.
As we sat down for the movie, M asked me why was Farhan Akhtar so bulked up - and me having read all his interviews and listened to all he had to say on the radio informed him that its an artist interpretation of what he thought the image should look like. M gave me the look he has kept reserved for pseudo intellectuals.
As the movie progressed, i marvelled at how different Farhan looked and how hard he had worked and how well the movie was made. But i think 45 min into the movie i stopped thinking and started feeling.
As the movie progressed to the partition phase and the refugee camp with Milkha's sister and her abusive husband, i felt like someone just clenched my stomach and squeezed it.
While on the other hand Milkha's sheer will power im sure was what M was applauding in his heart, since he would never say it out loud. As we came to the intermission, i was telling M that i have lot all stomach for partition stories and especially abusive behaviour against women - he asked if it were since i watched Pinjar - but it wasn't - my guess was its to do with age.
I wondered aloud how much it was for a 12 yr old to take and yet survive. M argued that Milkha was not the only one who had survived, there must be hundreds like him - our very own grand parents did.
Our grandparents did, but not alone, not at 12. And yes there must be others alone and young but does that change the pain? Or is it that when you see and entire nation in crisis, it gives you the will to survive because you are not the only one?
With all these thoughts we approached the climax of the movie which was the perfect note to end this great epic. People whistled and clapped - and this was a late night show with mostly families - yet they clapped and whistled and felt proud of the man whose story it was - saluted his determination, his survival, his grit and his obsession.
So what got me out of my slumber - as you would have guessed i watched Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. The fact that im writing about it clearly means that i loved the movie. I'm the sort of audience who will live the movie for those 3 odd hours, i will cry, i will wince in pain, i will shut my eyes, i will feel nauseated with disgust. So i like my movies to engage me, take me on that ride. Which ofcouse BMB did.
As we sat down for the movie, M asked me why was Farhan Akhtar so bulked up - and me having read all his interviews and listened to all he had to say on the radio informed him that its an artist interpretation of what he thought the image should look like. M gave me the look he has kept reserved for pseudo intellectuals.
As the movie progressed, i marvelled at how different Farhan looked and how hard he had worked and how well the movie was made. But i think 45 min into the movie i stopped thinking and started feeling.
As the movie progressed to the partition phase and the refugee camp with Milkha's sister and her abusive husband, i felt like someone just clenched my stomach and squeezed it.
While on the other hand Milkha's sheer will power im sure was what M was applauding in his heart, since he would never say it out loud. As we came to the intermission, i was telling M that i have lot all stomach for partition stories and especially abusive behaviour against women - he asked if it were since i watched Pinjar - but it wasn't - my guess was its to do with age.
I wondered aloud how much it was for a 12 yr old to take and yet survive. M argued that Milkha was not the only one who had survived, there must be hundreds like him - our very own grand parents did.
Our grandparents did, but not alone, not at 12. And yes there must be others alone and young but does that change the pain? Or is it that when you see and entire nation in crisis, it gives you the will to survive because you are not the only one?
With all these thoughts we approached the climax of the movie which was the perfect note to end this great epic. People whistled and clapped - and this was a late night show with mostly families - yet they clapped and whistled and felt proud of the man whose story it was - saluted his determination, his survival, his grit and his obsession.
probably we all came across the same feelings....
ReplyDeleteHey , its been long since u have written ... ??
ReplyDelete