Moonlight: In moonlight black boys look blue

Music Begins.
Violin and the piano start shedding pain over the scene that film has portrayed. After about a minute or two, the film takes you in, that this emotional tendering music cut you through and shattered you into a pieces.
And then, music fades, leaving you speechless, thoughtless, stunned into a melancholy.
MoonLight is a simple story of an introvert, less talking boy, Charon, whom people call by Little. Mahershala Ali’s expressions and acting are just… Oh, I don’t have a proper word for it. (He won Oscar for supporting role)

Charon’s acting is spontaneous. It deeply holds you in the film. Like this scene.

Untitled

In one scene, when Little, Juan (Mahershala Ali) and Teresa (Juan’s girlfriend) were sitting on a dining table, taking. Little asks, “Do you sell drugs?”
“Yes,” Juan replies.
“My Mama, she do drugs, right?”
“Yaa,” Juan says.
Little stands-up and leave the room. Juan’s (Mahershala Ali) woe in which he was could be felt from his face. I love his acting.

In another scene, when teenage Charon came back to his home from school, his Mom asks him for money to by drugs. When Charon denied of having money, she started checking his pockets and pants so hurriedly and so aggressively. It shakes you from the roots.

The film shows three stage of protagonist’s life, Young, Teenage, and Adult. All of them were done by the different actors, but you can never feel any different in them.

Drug menace is a serious issue. How much deeply it can drown you is just above any explanation.

The camera work is also amazing. Director Berry Jenkins has turned a simple story into a deeply engaging movie, which leaves it deep impact on my mind.

A tragic end may make story amazing, but stories do not always need to have a tragic end.

P.S.: I am in love with Janelle Monae.

(Picture Source: Google Image)

“સિદ્ધાર્થ”

લિટરેચર માટેનું નોબેલ પ્રાઇઝ કોઇ એક પુસ્તક કે સર્જન માટે નથી અપાતું નથી, છતા જ્યાં હર્મન હેસનો ઉલ્લેખ થાય ત્યાં તેમની 1922માં પ્રકાશિત થયેલી નવલકથા “સિદ્ધાર્થ”નો ઉલ્લેખ જોવા મળે જ.

“સિદ્ધાર્થ” એ સ્પિરીચ્યુઅલ ફિકશન  જેનરમાં ગણાય, એમાં ‘સ્વ’થી પર થવાની, મોહ-માયા ત્યાગવાની વાતો છે, પણ એમાં સામાન્ય માનવીય લાગણીઓ ને નકારવામાં નથી આવી. પુસ્તકમાં બે સિદ્ધાર્થ છે, એક સિદ્ધાર્થ નવલકર્થાનો નાયક અને બીજા સિદ્ધાર્થ સ્વ્યં ગૌતમ બુદ્ધ, અને બન્નેને જોડતુ બુદ્ધત્વ.

નવલકથા ચારેક સ્થળો સાથે વીંટળાયેલી છે. એક સિદ્ધાર્થનું પોતાનું ગામ, ત્યાથી દુર આવેલુ વન, નદીનો કિનારો અને પાસેની ઝુપડી, અને શહેર.

સિદ્ધાર્થનો વાસુદેવ સાથે નો સંવાદ, અને ગોવિંદ સાથેનો સંવાદ પરમ તત્વની અને શાંતીની શોધ વિશે હોવા છતા એમાં ભાર નથી તથા એ સામાન્ય માનવીય લાગણીઓથી પર નથી. નવલકથામાં સિદ્ધાર્થ એ બુદ્ધના સમયનો કોઇ યુવાન છે, પણ એ આજના યુથને આકર્ષિત કરી શકે એવો એટિટ્યુડ ધરાવે છે. એ શરુઆતથી જ થોડો અલગ જણાઇ આવે છે. પરંતુ એની પાસે જ્ઞાન છે પણ અનુભુતિ નથી. એ જાણે ઘણુ બધુ પણ એને કશુ સ્પર્શતુ નથી. આ પરિસ્થીતીથી નવલકથાની શરુઆત થાય છે. એ પછી નવલકથામાં એમ્બિશન્સ, વ્યસન, લાલચ, હતાશા, જીવનના એક તબક્કે આવતા સ્યુસાઇડલ થોટ્સ, પ્રેમ, પ્રેમની ઝંખના આ બધુ જ છે.

પહેલા ચેપ્ટરના અંતે નોટમાં દીપક સોલિયાએ ઉલ્લેખ કરેલ મા-બાપ અને સંતાન, ધનુષ અને તિરની વાત પણ રીમાર્કેબલ છે. ખલિલ જિબ્રાને ‘ધ પ્રોફેટ’માં લખેલી વાત સરસ રીતે દીપકભાઇએ લખી છે. (મેં જ્યારે ‘ધ પ્રોફેટ’ પહેલી વખત વાંચેલી ત્યારે તો જિબ્રાનનો આ બોલ બાઉન્સ થયેલો, ફરી જ્યારે રોજર અલર્સે ડાયરેક્ટ કરેલી એનિમેટેડ મુવી ‘ધ પ્રોફેટ’ જોઇ ત્યારે સમજાયું કે ખલિલબાપુ કયા તિર અને ધનુષ વિશે કે’તાતા.) તથા ચમત્કારો વિશેની વાતો પણ ખુબ લોજિકલ છે.

અહિંયા શેર કરવા લાયક ઘણું બધું છે પુસ્તકમાં, પણ એ ક્વોટ સાથેની પરિસ્થીતી વિશે લખીશતો શક્ય છે રાઝ રાઝ ન રહે. આ કોઇ થ્રિલર નોવેલ નથી કે અંત ખબર પડી જાય તો વાંચવાની મજા બગડી જાય, છતા એ સ્પોઇલ કરવાનો ગુનો હું નહિં કરુ. છતા આ ગમતીલું વાક્ય તો લખીશ જ.

“માણસ જ્યારે શોધે છે ત્યારે સ્વાભાવિક છે કે એને એ જ દેખાવાનું જેને એ શોધી રહ્યો છે. પછી એને કશું મળતું નથી. એ કશું પામી શકતો નથી શકતો, કારણ કે એનું તો બધુ ધ્યાન એને જે ચીજ જોઇએ છે તેના પર ચોંટેલું હોય છે. શોધવું એટલે શું? એ જ કે એક લક્ષ્ય હોવું. પરંતુ પામવું એટલે શુંં? પામવું એટલે મુક્ત હોવું, ચીજોને આવકારવા માટે ખુલ્લા હોવું. લક્ષ્યવીહોણાં હોવું.”

“જ્ઞાન આપી(વિચાર) શકાય, પણ સમજદારી(અનુભવ) ન આપી શકાય.”

 

“સિદ્ધાર્થ” મુળ જર્મન ભાષામાં લખાયેલી છે. એના ઘણા બધા ભાષંતરો થયા છે. ગુજરાતીમાં પણ આ પુસ્તકનુંં અનુવાદ અગાઉ રવીન્દ્ર ઠાકોર અને અલ્કેશ પટેલ દ્વારા થઇ ચુક્યો છે. એ બધા સારા અનુવાદ હશેજ, પણ દિપક સોલિયાની કોમેંટરી સાથે આવું આધ્યાત્મ વાંચવાની મજા છે, એ એમાં નહિ હોય એટલુ તો શ્યોર છે.

Book-સિદ્ધાર્થ-એક ક્લાસિક કૃતિ
Original writer- હર્મન હેસ
Narrettion-દીપક સોલિયા
Publisher-સાર્થક પ્રકાશન
Page-105
Price- ‎130 ‎₹
ISBN:978-81-926868-4-4

Brand consciousness  

It was a sweaty afternoon of close may, I was returning from my college completing my examination. It was really very hot noon, perhaps hottest till then. Backside of my shirt almost splashed and flushed from my own salt-water run off across my skin. I forgot to put a cap in my college bag, so all the game was now on side of Sun. I was walking towards my room finding every little shed to hide from flames radiated by sun. I think perhaps sun was targeting me.

No one was around. Even not a dog! Every windows of every house were closed, and so all doors. I could hear rustling leafs striking by heat waves and humming outer unit of air conditioners. Cars were parked along road sides, even if they were parked right on road, it did not matter. “Am I single person in this town?” I thought.

I felt like I was walking nearby a furnace or something. May be Angelina Jolie, Scarlete Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence are hot, but they are nothing against of this afternoon. I could see mirage heaving over road, Like reflection of life. “Ohh, Please god, Get me home as fast as you can, and I will visit the temple nearby my home, I swear.”-I prayed. Perhaps all those thought peeping out from my mind were because of heating, like our smartphone.

After little while, I could see my society, and I sigh, “Just few steps ahead.”-I compensate myself. There were many cars parked under trees, I looked at New BMW. “wow, she too is hot!” and all specification of this new model start running through my mind. It had a new pattern of their wheels. Car was really shining in light. Suddenly a dog came behind the car, picked his one leg up, settled in position and pissed off. Ha ha ha. “They does not care about brands like us.”- Thought I, and entered in my home.

There is no end to grief . . . and there is no end to love.

Well, Before you move towards heart-rending but motivational words of COO of Facebook Sheryl Sandberg, Let me accept and apologize you for posting it so much late.

After a death of her beloved husband, she had posted this on her Facebook profile. When I came to know about this via news feed, I checked her profile for entire post.

In post, there are tears in her every words, There is shed of darkness get spread in our life when someone whom we loved most, get straggled from us. Nights passed without even  a blinked, days become miserable.

But still we have to stand up and fight with situation, we have to learn to accept a bitter truth that, the person whom we loved most will not going to be with us longer. And to smile with a thought that He/She will always breath in our memories.

She is strong and (That’s why) young lady. And she did it.

Over to Sheryl Sandberg.


Today is the end of sheloshim for my beloved husband—the first thirty days. Judaism calls for a period of intense mourning known as Shiva that lasts seven days after a loved one is buried. After shiva, most normal activities can be resumed, but it is the end of sheloshim that marks the completion of religious mourning for a spouse.

A childhood friend of mine who is now a rabbi recently told me that the most powerful one-line prayer he has ever read is: “Let me not die while I am still alive.” I would have never understood that prayer before losing Dave. Now I do.

I think when tragedy occurs, it presents a choice. You can give in to the void, the emptiness that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or even breathe. Or you can try to find meaning. These past thirty days, I have spent many of my moments lost in that void. And I know that many future moments will be consumed by the vast emptiness as well.

But when I can, I want to choose life and meaning.

And this is why I am writing: to mark the end of sheloshim and to give back some of what others have given to me. While the experience of grief is profoundly personal, the bravery of those who have shared their own experiences has helped pull me through. Some who opened their hearts were my closest friends. Others were total strangers who have shared wisdom and advice publicly. So I am sharing what I have learned in the hope that it helps someone else. In the hope that there can be some meaning from this tragedy.

I have lived thirty years in these thirty days. I am thirty years sadder. I feel like I am thirty years wiser.

I have gained a more profound understanding of what it is to be a mother, both through the depth of the agony I feel when my children scream and cry and from the connection my mother has to my pain. She has tried to fill the empty space in my bed, holding me each night until I cry myself to sleep. She has fought to hold back her own tears to make room for mine. She has explained to me that the anguish I am feeling is both my own and my children’s, and I understood that she was right as I saw the pain in her own eyes.

I have learned that I never really knew what to say to others in need. I think I got this all wrong before; I tried to assure people that it would be okay, thinking that hope was the most comforting thing I could offer. A friend of mine with late-stage cancer told me that the worst thing people could say to him was “It is going to be okay.” That voice in his head would scream, how do you know it is going to be okay? Do you not understand that I might die? I learned this past month what he was trying to teach me. Real empathy is sometimes not insisting that it will be okay but acknowledging that it is not. When people say to me, “You and your children will find happiness again,” my heart tells me, Yes, I believe that, but I know I will never feel pure joy again. Those who have said, “You will find a new normal, but it will never be as good” comfort me more because they know and speak the truth. Even a simple “How are you?”—almost always asked with the best of intentions—is better replaced with “How are you today?” When I am asked “How are you?” I stop myself from shouting, my husband died a month ago, how do you think I am? When I hear “How are you today?” I realize the person knows that the best I can do right now is to get through each day.

I have learned some practical stuff that matters. Although we now know that Dave died immediately, I didn’t know that in the ambulance. The trip to the hospital was unbearably slow. I still hate every car that did not move to the side, every person who cared more about arriving at their destination a few minutes earlier than making room for us to pass. I have noticed this while driving in many countries and cities. Let’s all move out of the way. Someone’s parent or partner or child might depend on it.

I have learned how ephemeral everything can feel—and maybe everything is. That whatever rug you are standing on can be pulled right out from under you with absolutely no warning. In the last thirty days, I have heard from too many women who lost a spouse and then had multiple rugs pulled out from under them. Some lack support networks and struggle alone as they face emotional distress and financial insecurity. It seems so wrong to me that we abandon these women and their families when they are in greatest need.

I have learned to ask for help—and I have learned how much help I need. Until now, I have been the older sister, the COO, the doer and the planner. I did not plan this, and when it happened, I was not capable of doing much of anything. Those closest to me took over. They planned. They arranged. They told me where to sit and reminded me to eat. They are still doing so much to support me and my children.

I have learned that resilience can be learned. Adam M. Grant taught me that three things are critical to resilience and that I can work on all three. Personalization—realizing it is not my fault. He told me to ban the word “sorry.” To tell myself over and over, this is not my fault. Permanence—remembering that I won’t feel like this forever. This will get better. Pervasiveness—this does not have to affect every area of my life; the ability to compartmentalize is healthy.

For me, starting the transition back to work has been a savior, a chance to feel useful and connected. But I quickly discovered that even those connections had changed. Many of my co-workers had a look of fear in their eyes as I approached. I knew why—they wanted to help but weren’t sure how. Should I mention it? Should I not mention it? If I mention it, what the hell do I say? I realized that to restore that closeness with my colleagues that has always been so important to me, I needed to let them in. And that meant being more open and vulnerable than I ever wanted to be. I told those I work with most closely that they could ask me their honest questions and I would answer. I also said it was okay for them to talk about how they felt. One colleague admitted she’d been driving by my house frequently, not sure if she should come in. Another said he was paralyzed when I was around, worried he might say the wrong thing. Speaking openly replaced the fear of doing and saying the wrong thing. One of my favorite cartoons of all time has an elephant in a room answering the phone, saying, “It’s the elephant.” Once I addressed the elephant, we were able to kick him out of the room.

At the same time, there are moments when I can’t let people in. I went to Portfolio Night at school where kids show their parents around the classroom to look at their work hung on the walls. So many of the parents—all of whom have been so kind—tried to make eye contact or say something they thought would be comforting. I looked down the entire time so no one could catch my eye for fear of breaking down. I hope they understood.

I have learned gratitude. Real gratitude for the things I took for granted before—like life. As heartbroken as I am, I look at my children each day and rejoice that they are alive. I appreciate every smile, every hug. I no longer take each day for granted. When a friend told me that he hates birthdays and so he was not celebrating his, I looked at him and said through tears, “Celebrate your birthday, goddammit. You are lucky to have each one.” My next birthday will be depressing as hell, but I am determined to celebrate it in my heart more than I have ever celebrated a birthday before.

I am truly grateful to the many who have offered their sympathy. A colleague told me that his wife, whom I have never met, decided to show her support by going back to school to get her degree—something she had been putting off for years. Yes! When the circumstances allow, I believe as much as ever in leaning in. And so many men—from those I know well to those I will likely never know—are honoring Dave’s life by spending more time with their families.

I can’t even express the gratitude I feel to my family and friends who have done so much and reassured me that they will continue to be there. In the brutal moments when I am overtaken by the void, when the months and years stretch out in front of me endless and empty, only their faces pull me out of the isolation and fear. My appreciation for them knows no bounds.

I was talking to one of these friends about a father-child activity that Dave is not here to do. We came up with a plan to fill in for Dave. I cried to him, “But I want Dave. I want option A.” He put his arm around me and said, “Option A is not available. So let’s just kick the shit out of option B.”

Dave, to honor your memory and raise your children as they deserve to be raised, I promise to do all I can to kick the shit out of option B. And even though sheloshim has ended, I still mourn for option A. I will always mourn for option A. As Bono sang, “There is no end to grief . . . and there is no end to love.” I love you, Dave.

Source: Her facebook profile. (I have posted  whole post as it is.)

“Purani Jeans”- RJ Sayema

          It was starting of my BE. I had not brought my laptop to my room, so basically only option remain for listening music is phone. But there too was a bad of my luck. I don’t even have memory card in it!!!

            In between those bad lucks, I used to listen songs on Radio, like people of 80’s OR 90’s. One usual Saturday evening, I was turning radio frequency from one to another for some good songs, suddenly a beautiful, astonishing voice of a female RJ chanting Gazal which I read somewhere earlier stopped me. The surrounding went silent for me, I was listening her with all my heart, like flow of her words were directly reaching to my heart, Not via ear.

            On very next day, I was ready for her program “Purani jeans”, in that program, and I got to listen “Meri diary ka ek page”.

            Touched, I have fell for her voice. After that Gazal, I have listened her whole program including advertisements. During that program she mentioned that she used to upload that gazal on her Facebook page.

            And then a journey started. I reached at her FB Page, listen most of her earlier collection of audios. I used to check her page every day. Most of her Gazals and Nazm were written by Nida fazli, Gulzar, Bashir Badr, Parveen shakir, Ahmed Faraz, Qatil Shifai, Munir Niazi and many other Poets and GazalKar. So obviously the words too were miraculous and marvelous, and when that words come from voice of Sayema, they get power mesmerize any Gazal lover.

Picture downloaded from her facebook page

Picture downloaded from her facebook page

            Later, she used to narrate stories “Phir kya hua” in place of Gazal. Some of them were good, but it could not make a touch like Gazal. But still, when I listen her voice, till this moment, surrounding become silent. And flow of a miraculous voice pour my heart.

Visit her Soundcloud Profile and Facebook Page. You will love it.