Their Films
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I have found myself returning to Train Dreams again and again. Not always by watching it. Sometimes in fragments. Sometimes in memory. And sometimes in a place beyond memory, where certain images or sensations drift in without warning and settle quietly somewhere inside me. The film has become less of an object I’ve viewed and
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Anubhav Sinha and I have known each other for nearly 26 years. We are nearly the same age and we started our careers at approximately the same time and I have always envied him. Earlier it was for the wrong reasons. Then it was because he bought a swanky Toyota when most of his peers
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Date : Sept 30, 2014 Subject : Your Chutzpah. My dear Vishal, Firstly, thank you for inviting me to watch Haider last night. Thank you for thinking of me. Let me tell you that you robbed me of my sleep last night. Your chutzpah had me awestruck, wondrously grateful and might I sheepishly admit, slightly envious.
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I saw the honest, deceptively simple and thoroughly engaging Kaipoche last week. The film has apparently opened well at the box-office. It’s producers UTV seem to have backed a film without stars and without ‘safe’ ingredients to the hilt. Kaipoche is a triumph of conviction and a celebration of audacity. I believe this is the
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When I was 30 I was troubled by questions of death and questions of life after death. The ‘soul’ was a fascinatingly escapist concept for me but supremely confusing. I have a spiritual friend – somebody who I end up having conversations with when my questions reach a point of extreme anguish. He told me
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I stood by the lift with my girlfriend. We were laughing. We were talking rubbish. The neighbor looked at us amusedly. His look said it all. He got into the lift as we continued behaving as if possessed by a ghost called ‘Junglee Jawani’. He was embarrassed. We were not. ‘They must be drunk, idiots’.
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When I was in school I was often reprimanded by my parents for spending time with kids who were seen as errant, disobedient and generally rebellious. The fear that their child would not conform to what the world perceived as ‘correct’ and ‘good’ made me believe that spending time with them or secretly trying to
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Dear Bombay, Sorry my love for writing this random letter to you. I just want to tell you that I love you. I want to tell you that I am sorry my love. I am sorry my love. I left you. I was angry. I was dejected. I was frustrated. I was hurt. I was
Hansal mehta 