Cat's diary

 

The cat (Felis catus) is a domestic species of small carnivorous mammal.[1][2] It is the only domesticated species in the family Felidae and is often referred to as the domestic cat to distinguish it from the wild members of the family.[4] A cat can either be a house cat, a farm cat or a feral cat; the latter ranges freely and avoids human contact.[5] Domestic cats are valued by humans for companionship and their ability to kill rodents. About 60 cat breeds are recognized by various cat registries.[6]

The cat is similar in anatomy to the other felid species: it has a strong flexible body, quick reflexes, sharp teeth and retractable claws adapted to killing small prey. Its night vision and sense of smell are well developed. Cat communication includes vocalizations like meowing, purring, trilling, hissing, growling and grunting as well as cat-specific body language. A predator that is most active at dawn and dusk (crepuscular), the cat is a solitary hunter but a social species. It can hear sounds too faint or too high in frequency for human ears, such as those made by mice and other small mammals.[7] Cats also secrete and perceive pheromones.[8]

A misunderstood love story: thoughts about playwright William Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew

                                A still from the 1967 adaptation of the movie

I believe that small joys in life leave you most contented. One of the many being, for me, reading a novel and then watching a movie based on the book, if there is one. On a trip to Delhi, I found a bookstore in the bylanes of Lajpat Nagar that was selling classics for a mere 50 rupees. My state was such of a starved kid being taken into Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. I bought Jane Austen, Thomas Hardy, Charles Dickens and (how can I forget thee) William Shakespeare. Upon reading Taming of the Shrew, I downloaded the 1967 version of the movie starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. I remember reading Shakespeare in 8^th grade. I firmly believe myself to be too young to acknowledge his language and thought. Having read the book again, I felt disappointed, only initially.

The book abides to 15^th century conventions laid by the society where Shakespeare has portrayed a situation where women were considered as objects or chattels (like Petruchio puts it) that were exchanged for money. This was the definition of marriage. It is even so in contemporary, modern India. Whether Shakespeare was a patriarch having such notions or was his work a mere reflection of the society, I will be unable to say.

Moving on, what intrigued me more was why Katharina was a shrew than her actual taming. Why was she the way she was? Headstrong, violent, harsh, wild and easily enraged. She was the ugly duckling, she was the odd one out, she was the one without a date at the prom.

Anguished, she screams infront of her husband (Petruchio), “I will speak the anger of my heart”. She might be violent, rude and crazy. But nowhere does the text question or answer the reason for her shrewness. I firmly believe Katharina to be the definition of a woman who did want to hide behind the veil, speak softly, be modest, retain her virginity or simply, become what is expected of women, to be compromising and calm. An example of this being Bianca (her younger sister), who has men fighting for her hand.

Furthermore, Petruchio tames her by refusing to give her food and comfort but remains kind to her in words. She uses the situation to her advantage by making friends with the house staff and agreeing with him on every account. She wins his heart. One must note that even though Petruchio denied Katharina of all these pleasures, so did he deny himself. Hence, he was harsh with himself as well. (Love in the air?)

Katharina realised the fact that she is not in her father’s house anymore, hence she will not be able to dominate the members of the household. She is now in possession of Petruchio who can choose to treat her as he wishes. She does agree with him on every count, knowing that it will be advantageous for her in the long run.  

I also believe that Katharine needed someone equally crazy like Petruchio (he was Kated!) to handle her. It was him who eventually gave her the chance to speak. In some ways, he set her free. Imagine a scenario if there were no Petruchio, Katharina would have died a bitter death, alone and abandoned; cast away by the society becoming a symbol of bad luck.

When I saw the 1929 version of the same movie, which is directed by Sam Taylor starring Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks, I looked forward to Katharina’s speech at the end. She winks at Bianca (her submissive younger sister) while revelling about women’s duties towards their husbands.

This makes me wonder whether Kate was really tamed or was it a well thought off ploy to impress Petruchio. 

Private Space

I feel an intense urge to have my own room, my own space. The first thing that I would do is probably take print-outs of Alfred Hitchcock’s movies, the standard Che Guevara poster for fighting on, poems by Robert Frost and Dumbledore’s quotes and stick them to the wall, beautifully. Additions will take place almost every fortnight. I will also put the picture of me and my best friend on the wall which we had clicked while on a random evening in front of Taj Mahal Hotel in Colaba asking one of the random bhaiyas who roam with a camera which churns out instant pictures. Waking up every morning to such a creation would be the ultimate reminder that I am alive in more ways than one. I have seen people plastering an entire map of the world on one of the walls of their room and paint it with red marks after every subsequent trip. I would stick pictures of where I want to go of which Dubrovnik tops the list. I would also put a picture of my Mom, my biggest strength. I have never seen such perseverance to hold on to life as much as in my mother. Smiling and holding on. Breathing and holding on. Gathering and holding on.  

Pain is like fragrance in a bottle of perfume. With time the fragrance vanishes and the only the water remains likewise with time the pain of an incident extinguishes and only the memory remains.

A Wait

As I was leaving, she said to me

‘I will wait for you, I will keep waiting for you’

Her life was spent in quiet anticipation

Of which wait played a major part

I said to her, ‘Isn’t everyone waiting?’

The autumn for the tress to shed

The bird for the moor to break

For mortals their death

Aren't we all waiting to discover the truth of life

And some to earn money and become wise

Aren't we all in search of something?

Aren't we all waiting for something?

Lootera- The Thief of A Lover

A still from the movie Lootera

To experience happiness in life get a good education, work, earn money, find a life-partner, have kids and retire with dignity. To experience pain, fall in love.

A story partly written by Vikramaditya Motwane and partly an adaptation of The Last Leaf by O Henry makes for a perfect romantic hindi drama. The movie’s strongest pursuit is its story. It reminded me of the era of old Hindi movies when only two characters were sufficient for a movie to be a success. Ranveer Singh (Varun/Nandu) who played the rogue though neat, soft but heartbroken and skilled but a fraud thief of a lover. He will be remembered for the acting he displayed though somewhere his voice is not as strong and brisk. His voice lacked command and fell frail in more instances than one.

Sonakshi Sinha( Pakhi) playing the mistress of beauty and the victim of love blended into the portrait of the movie with flying colors. Her myriad expressions and a tall figure gave the movie its much needed heroine.

Set in the post Independence era in Kolkata and then later in Dalhousie the movie exemplifies how movie directors don’t need to go to exotic locations to make movies while rather have a wonderful and pleasing set in India.

Another commendable attribute of the movie was the background score by Amit Trivedi. All the songs were written by Amitabh Bhattacharya. Music is the food of love so play on, as rightly said by Shakespeare sums up how it gripped the audience’s attention.  The suspense angle introduced in the movie made the audience want the movie to go on. The right beat, the right rhythm and the right drop of the music kept the movie interesting. The songs have become an instant hit.

As far as my observation takes me none of the characters had many dialogues. Music became a healthy substitute for the same. Symbolism in the cases for Pakhi’s father’s death and the tree on which her life depended were used well.

Few factors added charm to the movie which included the contrast of colors used, the panorama of green lush fields, Dalhousie’s almost picturesque beauty and well thought out pair of Ranveer and Sonakshi.

The climax may seem as unrealistic as it is romantic. The end is open to interpretation. While some may discard the movie for me the formula which the director, Vikramadiya Motwane, brewed worked !

Photo courtesy: http://www.filmfare.com/media/content/2013/Jul/lootera1_1373033361_600x450.jpg

On Women’s Day: To all the Women who Dared.

I am biased to my sex. Biased in the sense that our sex has suffered a great deal, an ordeal more appropriately. Ponder how we are regarded in spoken language; the fairer sex, weaker and helpless. Women to this age have to struggle to voice their opinions. They say we are weak in strength I say what about childbirth, they say I am fit indoors I say what about Rani of Jhansi, they say I am not intelligent enough what about Marie Curie. There can be hundreds of examples in any country that you reside in. Far more important is the point that Women are no less than Man. Ever better I should say because we play the role of a house maker equally efficiently as we would be successful wearing a tie and coat. If the role reversal has to happen will men be able to paint themselves in the tapestry of an established homemaker? Not to be too hard on the men folk I should acknowledge the criticism that some women are indeed incompetent to become a homemaker and some men truly can prove themselves at the task.

Sentences splashed with prejudices and stereotypes have been used to define us. There used to be questions in our minds about such assumptions and surmises, but we kept quiet. Suppressing such questions and exclamations into an inflated balloon, which infected by knowledge and ideas, that would eventually explode. And when it did, it burst with such intensity as which cannot be expressed on pen and paper. It was the explosion of our Voice. Our collective voice which gave us the power to vote, to make decisions, to ban redundant customs, to break society imposed shackles and to protect our integrity.

The road to Freedom and Justice is embedded with thorns and angry bushes, which would stop us at every fork. Giving us an option, every time, to succumb to the road mostly traveled by. It must be our decision to take the road less traveled by. Women of every generation have added their bit to the revolution of Justice. Last year women and men from all walks of life came out on the streets of Delhi to demand for amendments in the rape laws of the country. Our voices forced the government to amend the laws. The Ordinance has been signed by the President and the bill to amend the definition and punishment of Sexual Crimes will be introduced in a month’s time.

This calls for a pat on the back, this calls for a yelp of justice, this calls for the first steps towards Equality. I must acknowledge that this change could not have been possible without the support of the other sex and the life of an innocent girl. Though a lot has to change and I being an eternal optimist believe it will. I remember when I was a child and wanted to be a part of something big. I could never come to a conclusion as to what that big thing would be. After 10 years I think this is the big thing. Changing the ideology of the society, fighting for Women’s rights and making the world a more equal place could be the big thing I would want to contribute my small efforts into.