Chronicle of my Curious Susmita - StageBuzz

Chronicle   of                      my       Curious
Corona    Case                      /        Susmita
Mukherjee

Susmita Mukherjee in her Farm in Orchha
It all started with what in Mumbai’s parlance is known as ‘
Pateli’. Let me elaborate, Pateli‘ and it’s stronger aspect
,also known as ‘ Vatt Pateli’, loosely translates itself as
arrogance or false bravado. You see I have been living in my
idyllic farmhouse in Orchha, Madhya Pradesh, with my family
since March 2020 lockdown, along with our cows, dogs, cat and
even peacocks so how did I get the dreaded Covid?        I did
Pateli. To be honest I have tried to be disciplined most of
my adult life ( ever since I gave up being a 4 packs of
cigarettes a day smoker back then in 1989) and had turned into
a unrecognisable creature who gave up smoking, meditated, did
yoga, pranayam, ate clean food and basked in the adoration of
friends and family who made me feel pretty invincible. In
fact I hadn’t taken a single pill for the last 3 decades, and
combated the rare fever with coconut water and fruits.

So I swung around with full pateli,with the belief that Corona
or whatever the world was talking about with such fear, could
never reach me. It helped that we don’t have a TV as ours is a
microclimatic    zone, and so I kept myself occupied with
reading novels, and occasionally watching ” goody goody” stuff
on my cellphone. Then I made 2 fatal errors.On the 10th of
April, I sauntered with my friend, (a woman who was contesting
as an Independent candidate for the Zila Panchayat election
from a backward seat, )as we wove in and out of Bundeli
villages, drinking water from the homes we visited, not
realising that some water came from wells, others from bawois
and some from God knows where. So we had ” ghat ghat ka
paani‘, because in these parts refusing water is equivalent to
hurting the host.

Error No. 2. On the 12th, I accompanied my husband and our
manager who got their vaccines but I bluntly refused. Vaccine?
Oh no , not for me. Vatt Pateli.      That very evening I was
invited as chief guest for a function in Jhansi, where my
friend, Dr Neeti Shastri was celebrating National Street

Theatre Day and as I had been part of the street theatre
movement in Delhi, back in the early days, I was happy to
attend.   The only problem, (which of-course I realised in
hindsight,) was that the anchor, a veteran journalist, who
stood and sat next to me had a very bad cold and sneezed a lot
which reminded me to keep my mask on firmly but when the
photographers wanted to see my face, vanity kicked in ( I’m an
actress) and I let my mask down in more ways than one, with
chilling consequences., (Error No. 3).

13th, 14th and 15th of April were busy days as I prepared to
welcome Mother Durga who it was said was coming this year on
horseback and did not portend well for mankind. And I , in my
fervour, was determined to fast and pray and so I ignored the
horrid body pain I felt for 3 days not for a moment imagining
it could be the dreaded Corona. Then on the 4th day the pain
vanished mysteriously and I had no memory of it as I gaily
completed the Naudurga, fasting on fruits, coconut water and
one small meal of permissible items. I was continuing with my
yoga, meditation, walks. No cough, no fever, no body pain.
Suddenly it got curious.

Error No. 4. On 23rd April, I committed another Pateli. I
walked out in the noon heat for a small pooja we were
perfoming at the farm for the creative Academy my husband is
building and returned dizzy from the heat. ‘ Vinaash kaale
vipreet buddhi‘ 2 hours later I was on my way to Jhansi, 15
kilometres away, helping my team source iron and cement blocks
for the construction..After that every thing got black. I
declared to all that I would self quarantine. I may have had a
slight fever but since in the past I had never paid attention
to it, coupled with the fact that we did not own a thermometer
and did not see the reason to have one ( Pateli), I dropped
into a pitch black hole of sleep, utter fatigue and an
unquenchable thirst. A small cough started. Not dry or racking
but just an irritating moist cough with phlegm. I did not
listen to my husband who sent me a strip of paracetamol but

cunningly tore one pill away and hid it under my pillow, in
case he inspected the strip ( Pateli)     From 23rd to 30th, I
kept myself strictly self quarantined. Food was sent to me
outside my door but I was not particularly hungry. But
thirsty, yes, and fatigued, by my standards. My yoga, walks,
meditation continued but with difficulty.

So for 21 days after possible infection I was sustaining
without any medicine, only on fruits and coconut water.
Suddenly on 30th morning, I woke up with a panic attack and
called my doctor in Mumbai who immediately prescribed some
pills and asked me to take the RTPCR test. Now this test had
been the bone of contention for a while. My younger son who is
studying to be a scientist in New Zealand, along with his
school classmate, My doctor,, who is in the frontline of Covid
treatment in India, had been pleading with me to get a test
done. I had dismissed it as medical haranguing.I had first
heard the term from my very concerned older sister, and
ofcourse I was determined not to go to any hospitals for
testing ( Pateli) But my Mumbai doctor was not going to listen
to this insane patient in Orchha. A conversation happened
between him and my husband and I was bundled off to to our
small but clean hospital in the village where they stuffed
some cotton up my nostrils and the dreaded RTPCR test seemed
like child’s play.

I was seeing the outside world after 3 weeks, the weather was
nice and I felt really well.     My husband’s younger brother
and his wife were visiting and knowing my propensity to cure
myself with fruits and water were not unduly alarmed as I now
started to hang out with them, albeit always at a safe
distance.   Then on 2nd late evening, the verdict came. Covid
positive. We had been sitting out in the cabana, chatting,
having tea, and suddenly within minutes my family disappeared
like in stop block and reappeared covered from head to toe in
whatever plastic they could lay their hands on. It was such a
comical sight in an absurd situation where within minutes the

whole scenario changed. Of-course in hindsight it was not so
funny!   Next day, 3rd of May came the epiphany, the real
reason to write this personal chronicle. My husband, Raja
Bundela, is well known in these parts as an activist leader,
and without my knowledge an ambulance, an oxygen cylinder and
a hospital bed in the most premiere hospital had been lined
up. Lucky me!

No more Pateli for me
Clearly my family was in panic. I was pretty well and when I
reached the hospital in Jhansi, a doctor rushed to me and
slipped something plastic in my index finger, where I met an
oxymeter for the first time. Puzzled, he did his check again
and murmured…” 98″Then he asked me” Can you walk or do you
need a wheelchair”? I was astounded even a bit enraged ( me,
the compulsive walker!!!) Much too sweetly I replied,” No, I
can walk. Thank you so very much’. To make my point, I walked
faster than usual as he led me inside a door which read ICCU.
It closed behind us. The room was abuzz with doctors, nurses
and wardboys. Next they moved me to a sheetless bed and said
that it had been sanitized for me. To my left I had a glimpse
of a brown wrinkled arm and several people were thumping him
up and down. (He died minutes later) The air was rent with
what seemed to me like demonic sounds of people moaning and
groaning, all out of synch, ; the AC was not functioning at
its best and it smelt of anasthesia . I was asked to lay down
on “my ” bed as the doctor hurried out.

I had 2 options, I could look around or I could shut my eyes.
I suddenly remembered a line I had read somewhere, that during
World war 2, the only Jews who had escaped the concentration
camps were people who kept their inner bodies clean. And then
all of a sudden, the developmental biologist, Dr Bruce Lipton
and his seminary work, ‘ Biology of Belief’ popped up in my
mind. He claimed that our cells prosper in the Petri dish of
our bodies only if they feel safe inside. So despite the shock
of being unloaded in the ICCU without warning, I closed my
eyes and within minutes, I was roaming inside my body which
till date I can remember clearly. I was surrounded by million,
trillion tiny sparkling lights, much tinier than the string of
fairy lights we put out in Diwali and Christmas but they were
golden yellow and each point was disappearing into another
point which went deeper into another point in an amazing non
stop dance. It felt as if I was roaming inside a large warm
golden honeycomb. I thought I lay there endlessly as the

sounds around me dimmed.     I am told that about 15 minutes
later, I was aroused by the doctor who arrived with a flurry
of nurses. He handed me a sheaf of papers to sign mandatory
before being admitted to the ICCU. Shocked, I almost charged
out of the unit, desperately looking out for my family. Some
more conversations happened. I convinced them that I was well
enough not to utilise the ICU and to give it to someone who
was really critical.    So I was sent to the room where my CBC
and urine were taken. The sight of the stoic south Indian
nurses, in their pink frocks, made me weepy with gratitude. A
chest x ray was taken and I was allowed to go home.

Next day I was asked to return to the hospital in Jhansi where
they took a CT scan. Latest medical knowledge says it has the
power of 300 chest x rays but this one was from the University
of Whatsapp so it is yet to be authenticated.       By evening
the report came. All was well. But with Covid there is always
a risk of pneumonia and I had a slight chest infection. And
with that the allopathic medicines were started on
me.Technically then, I got my first shot of medicines after
21 days of infection.      This was the worst cycle. My body
completely unused to medicine lay drugged and fatigued. I used
to get panic attacks at meal times because the very thought of
food was nauseous. I was dizzy. I fell down twice and was in a
very bad place. But I ploughed through because of the immense
loving care from my extended family. For 10 whole days my
insides were bombed with antibiotics to deal with the dreaded
Covid. My body shocked and confused, just collapsed into a
heap .

During meditation,the part who I think is ” me” I would often
pity that dead weight . That was the time I thought of writing
my will when I realised the full idiocy of chasing career,
fame, money when my body was deciding whether it wanted to be
“killed”, by chemicals in order to “survive” the virus. The
existential question came up: Can matter destroy matter?After
my ICCU experience, I can say with utter serenity, that in my

case, energy was the most potent tool to kill matter.     This
is not to say that one should not take medicine if attacked by
the virus, or not take the vaccine, because physicians and
doctors too have a life purpose, which is to help cure us. But
the best cure is not to identify with matter. In other words
don’t get hooked into the disease, don’t give it the attention
it is craving. In short, do what the doctor tells you to do,
but at the psychical level, give Covid the BIG IGNORE!

Instead,while distancing yourself from your body, treat it
like a ” treacherous friend” who when the time comes, will
walk off the earth in death, whether one is ready for it or
not. So while still on earth, keep giving it the antibodies
it needs in the form of laughter, sunshine, positivity or
whatever it is that makes you happy. Joy is energy. This will
create the best immunity to recover. This has been my first
hand experience.   In conclusion then, I had spent the first 3
weeks without any medicine and then 2 weeks with lots of them.
A huge thank you to everyone who helped me crawl out of the
black hole, back to sunlight, yoga meditation, barefoot walks
in my beloved farm, albeit with much more gratitude and. .ZERO
PATELI!

From a spiritual perspective, there may be good news. It
appears that disease, is like the cream that collects, when
milk is boiled. The more it is boiled, the more cream comes to
the surface. This may be equated to our ‘ Prarabdh karma’, or
alloted karma, which has to be worked out this lifetime. So
the onset of a disease ( likened to the surfacing of cream),
forces us to work out our karma when we are still conscious
and able bodied. By this token, who knows, the Carona may have
reduced our karmic load, both individually, as well as from
the perspective of collective humanity.

Remembering                   Ray        |      Kanika
Aurora

Rabindranath Tagore wrote a poem in the autograph book of
young Satyajit whom he met in idyllic Shantiniketan.

The poem, translated in English, reads: ‘Too long I’ve
wandered from place to place/Seen mountains and seas at vast
expense/Why haven’t I stepped two yards from my house/Opened
my eyes and gazed very close/At a glistening drop of dew on a
piece of paddy grain?’

Years later, Satyajit Ray the celebrated Renaissance Man,
captured this beauty, which is just two steps away from our
homes but which we fail to appreciate on our own in many of
his masterpieces stunning the audience with his gritty, neo
realistic films in which he wore several hats- writing all his

screenplays with finely detailed sketches of shot sequences
and experimenting in lighting, music, editing and
incorporating unusual camera angles. Several of his films were
based on his own stories and his appreciation of classical
music is fairly apparent in his music compositions resulting
in some rather distinctive signature Ray tunes collaborating
with renowned classical musicians such as Ravi Shankar, Ali
Akbar and Vilayat Khan.

No surprises there. Born a hundred years ago in 1921 in an
extraordinarily talented Bengali Brahmo family, Satyajit Ray
carried forward his illustrious legacy with astonishing ease
and finesse.

Both his grandfather Upendra Kishore RayChaudhuri and his
father Sukumar RayChaudhuri are extremely well known
children’s writers. It is said that there is hardly any
Bengali child who has not grown up listening to or reading
Upendra Kishore’s stories about the feisty little bird Tuntuni
or the musicians Goopy Gyne and Bagha Byne. He also launched
Sandesh, perhaps the first children’s magazine in India.
Satyajit revived it in 1961 and it is currently available
online as well.

He also established the Calcutta Film Society in 1947 with
some like mind friends and film enthusiasts; the first film
club of its kind in India, dedicated to watching and
discussing the best of world cinema.

Pather Panchali (The Song of the Road), directed by Satyajit
Ray is rightly considered as one of the greatest landmarks in
Indian film history, placing our country firmly on the world’s
cinematic map inspiring several generations of film directors.

After watching Vittorio De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves, he recalled
his emotions in a lecture in 1984. The film had “gored” him.
“I came out of the theatre with my mind firmly made up. I
would become a filmmaker. The prospect of giving up a job

didn’t daunt me any more. I would make my film exactly as De
Sica had made his: working with non-professional actors, using
modest resources, and shooting on actual locations.”

 “I was familiar with the camera, possessing a second-hand
Leica. And paying homage to a photographer I considered to be
the greatest of all—Henri Cartier-Bresson—I wanted my film to
look as if it was shot with available light a la Cartier-
Bresson… I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would
become a filmmaker, starting my career with Pather Panchali.
If it didn’t work out, I would be back at my desk at Keymer’s,
tail between my legs. But if it did work, there would be no
stopping me.” (My Years with Apu.)

But there was no money to make the film. After failing to
procure the bare minimum amount required to even contemplate
filming, Ray decided to ask some of his friends to contribute
a thousand rupees each. The budget of the film had been fixed
at ₹ 70,000. He collected ₹ 17,000, and started filming in the
October of 1952. The very first sequence that was shot is
perhaps the most iconic of the film: Apu and his elder sister
Durga running through a field of kaash flowers to see a train
for the first time in their lives.

Pandit Ravi Shankar would provide the music and Subrata Mitra
was the 21-year-old cinematographer who had never operated a
motion picture camera before this. Today he is acknowledged in
the cinema world as one of the finest ever to operate a movie
camera.

The rest as they say is history.

 Pather Panchali went to the Cannes Film Festival and there is
a popular anecdote about how initially it was exhibited late
at night at a small theatre with less than a dozen people
watching including Francois Truffaut, then a critic who would
eventually go one to become a great film director, leaving the
hall within 10 minutes, bored by the slow pace of the film.

Truffaut later apologized several times and Ray and he became
good friends.

Lotte Eisner, who would go on to become the chief curator of
the Cinematheque Francaise, as Providence would have it
decided that the film deserved a second screening. She lobbied
and campaigned for it, resulting in a second show which was
well attended and Pather Panchali won the special jury prize
for the ‘Best Human Document’.

Ray could now become a full-time film director. He started
work on Pather Panchali’s sequel Aparajito (The Unvanquished),
which depicts Apu’s teenage years is arguably the finest and
most touching film of the Apu trilogy.

Although the first film he wanted to make was Ghare Baire, the
one that got made was of course, Pather Panchali. An
adaptation of Tagore’s 1916 novel, Ghare Baire (The Home and
the World) eventually did get made in 1984 and got nominated
for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival that year.

In 1982, delivering a lecture, Ray spoke about his work.

“There is a special problem that faces one who must talk about
films. Lectures on art should ideally be illustrated. One who
talks on paintings usually comes armed with slides and a
projector. This solves the difficulty of having to describe in
words, what must be seen with the eyes. The lecturer on music
must bless the silicon revolution, which enables him to cram
all his examples into a cassette no bigger than a small bar of
chocolate. But the lecturer on cinema has no such advantage—at
least not in the present state of technology in our country.
If he wishes to cite an example, he can do no more than give a
barely adequate description in words, of what is usually
perceived with all one’s senses. A film is pictures, a film is
words, a film is movement, a film is drama, a film is music, a
film is a story, a film is a thousand expressive aural and
visual details. These days one must also add that film is

colour. Even a segment of film that lasts barely a minute can
display all these aspects simultaneously. You will realize
what a hopeless task it is to describe a scene from a film in
words. They can’t even begin to do justice to a language which
is so complex.”

Ray thought of cinema as a language. “Cinema is images and
sound,” he said.

“The problem,” he wrote, “was over the word ‘art’. If the word
‘language’ was used instead, I think the true nature of cinema
will become clearer and there will be no need for debate.”
Cinema was a language defined by fade-ins, and fade-outs,
camera angles, clever editing and quick cuts complemented by
classical music.

Composing music for his films was essential to him too. “How
interesting to know… that film and music had so much in
common!” he wrote (Speaking of Films). “Both unfold over a
period of time; both are concerned with pace and rhythm and
contrast; both can be described in terms of mood—sad,
cheerful, pensive, boisterous, tragic, jubilant.”

Ray had mastered the art of conveying the message without
actually making it explicitly obvious. In Apur Sansar, for
instance, the audience gets a sense of the intimacy and
comfort that Apu (the incredibly gifted Soumitra Chatterjee,
who passed away recently and worked with Ray in fourteen
films) and his wife Aparna (Sharmila Tagore in her first film
role, who was apparently expelled from her convent school for
appearing in a film) enjoy from the little sequences like Apu
waking up in the morning, looking decidedly happy and
satiated, opening his packet of cigarettes and finding a note
by Aparna inside, asking him not to smoke too much.

Ray also ensures that women in his movies exhibit dignity and
courage in the face of adversities.

Charulata, based on a Tagore novella called Nashtaneer, whose

literal translation is The Ruined Nest (home in this instance)
with the English title, The Lonely Wife is a masterpiece by
any standards.

The opening sequence which establishes her soul destroying
loneliness with no dialogues is fascinating and portrays her
unique disposition in seven minutes of near silent shots.

In Ray’s own words the seven minutes were about (from Speaking
Of Films) attempting to use a language entirely free from
literary and theatrical influences. Except for one line of
dialogue in its seven minutes, the scene says what it has to
say in terms that speak to the eye and the ear.

Madhabi Mukherjee, his rumoured muse and more accomplished the
job with practiced ease in the scene which is still etched in
his fans’ collective memory; the embroidery, the chiming of
the grandfather clock, casual lifting of the piano lid and
striking a note; the monkey man, the palki, lorgnette and all.

Another personal favourite is her swinging gaily with fairly
unusual camera angles and positioning perhaps influence by his
mentor Renoir’s A Day in the Country. So is the brilliant
montage announcing the arrival of rains in Pather Panchali.

Everyone has a list of their cherished sequence, I daresay
from scores of profound, layered and thematically rich Ray
films, such as Jalsaghar, Devi or The Calcutta Trilogy:
Pratidwandi, Seemabaddha & Jana Aranya.

One is spoilt for choice out of his 28 films which he directed
in over four decades.

Most of these are based on classic Bengali literary works, and
two; Shatranj Ke Khilari and the telefilm Sadgati on stories
written by Munshi Premchand. Others are based on contemporary
novels and short stories, and some, like Kanchanjungha and
Nayak are original scripts written by Ray himself. One of his
last films, Ganashatru was inspired by Ibsen’s play, An Enemy

of The People.

A few of his films like Parash Pathar (The Philosopher’s
Stone), and the two Feluda detective novels of his which he
made into film—Sonar Kella (The Golden Fortress) and Joi Baba
Felunath (The Elephant God) are breezy and immensely
entertaining. His two Goopy-Bagha films, Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne
and Hirak Rajar Deshe (The Kingdom of Diamonds) delighted the
children as musicals.

A little known fact about Ray is that without knowing it, he
was indeed the first “graphic designer” in India. He even
designed two English typefaces -Ray Roman and Ray Bizarre.

One of the most influential, multi-faceted and greatest
filmmakers of all times, Satyajit Ray mastered the art of
telling intimate human stories, the journey, the trials and
tribulations of the ordinary men and women with extraordinary
expertise embodying and showcasing the magic of cinema at its
very best.

To recognize his enormous contributions to cinema, he was
awarded the Academy Honorary Award days before his death. He
was also awarded India’s highest civilian honour Bharat Ratna
by the Government of India

The legendary Japanese auteur Akira Kurosawa one famously
remarked about Ray, “Not to have seen the cinema of Ray means
existing in the world without seeing the sun or the moon.”

Satyajit Ray shall forever continue to illuminate and inspire.

OTT Escapes From Bleak Corona
Reality; The Irregulars, Mrs.
Dalloway & …
4 Films: The Irregulars, Mrs. Dalloway, Searching for Sheela,
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Alas, India is in the grip of a virulent Covid deja vu–as we
battle the second wave, there is a brain-numbed empathy for
the dead and for the pile-up of bodies outside crematoria
(does anyone die a ‘dignified death’ anymore?), a breath-
stopping horror at oxygen and vaccine supplies running low,
and the home incarceration blues caused by yet another
lockdown.

Aside from reading almost incessantly, I also map strategic
escapist exits into Netflix, Amazon Prime, and youtube
bingeing from time to time. Plus my own buoyancy that still
sees and relishes the dappled sunlight on the leaves, the
beauty in the eyes of a cat, and the sheer gratitude for being
alive here and now.

I love the bleak dark     cityscapes, with occasional gleams of
light piercing the       murk (an almost Gnostic sense of
atmospherics). What I    dislike about the series thus far: the
portrayal of Holmes as   a wasted junky who just lies around 221
B, occasionally puking his guts out. I remain true to the
canonical Holmes whose morphine and cocaine addictions are
always secondary to his prime addictive passion: his work as a
consulting detective.

Four bite-sized film reviews of OTT films that touched a chord
or two in me, wincing now and again: First, The Irregulars–a
really weird Holmes pastiche. Don’t get me wrong–I am not a
Holmes Canon fundamentalist, fretting and fuming at the non-
canonical deviance of this Netflix series. A few aspects of
the series (I’ve watched the first two episodes of the first
series) that really tickled me. One is the brave
multiculturalism, rescuing Holmesian tradition from the all-
white male late Victorian stuffiness of the canon. Watson is
played by a black Brit. actor. The Irregulars, a ragtag bunch
of white male street kids in Conan Doyle’s version, is headed
by Bea, a feisty Chinese Brit. girl, her white sister (sic!)
Jess, and a black kid named Spike. Billy is the only white kid
in the bunch and is depicted pretty much as I visualized
Doyle’s Billy.

There is also the white haemophiliac Prince Leopold, who
escapes the palace, to hang out with the Irregulars incognito.

The second film is one that I enjoyed without caveats: the
Vanessa Redgrave version of ‘Mrs. Dalloway’. Vanessa plays
Virginia Woolf’s Clarissa Dalloway to perfection–there is a
sense of graceful, effortless gliding about her role in the
film. Clarissa Dalloway gliding up and down staircases,
through lush lawns, and tete-a-tetes with acquaintances at a
party.

Behind the glide is all of Clarissa’s (and Woolf’s) proneness
to anxiety caused by low self-esteem, and little plunges into
small whirlpools of depression. The film does its best at
capturing the complex flowing Woolfian stream of consciousness
style, with flashbacks constantly juxtaposed with here-and-now
realities.

My third pick: the Netflix biopic Searching for Sheela, based
on flashbacks and real-life interviews with the ever-
controversial Ma Anand Sheela, Osho’s love, his muse, and
director of the discredited Oregon commune.

Much of the biopic focuses on her return to India to promote
her book on Osho. Oddly enough, Sheela comes across as
likable, vulnerable and yet centered and at peace in this
biopic, spouting Osho-isms to her disabled clients at a care
center in Switzerland. Karan Johar, Barkha Dutt, and other
interviewers did a good job overall.I love Sheela’s off-the-
cuff reply to Karan Johar about Osho’s eyes being more
beautiful than his penis. She insists that they had a deeply
spiritual I-Thou, rather than physical sex.

Curiously   enough, the interviewers weren’t tough enough on
her. They    went around in circles, coming back to the same
tired-ass   questions about whether she was a bio-terrorist in
Oregon or   not. I would have asked her the really important
question about why she created a religion called
‘Rajneeshism’, given that Rajneesh (Osho) was as allergic to
organized religion and politicized religion as someone he
loved and bashed at the same time, namely, J. Krishnamurti.
She did this when Osho went into a period of silence in
Oregon. All in all, an interesting biopic.

My fourth and final film for this post is Tom Hanks’s take on
the child TV host, Mr. Rogers–‘A Beautiful Day in the
Neighborhood’. Hanks plays the ’80s child TV host Fred Rogers
well, capturing his strange naivete bordering on innocence,
his schmaltziness about the beautiful neighborhood and world,
and his genuine eccentric caring for strangers.

It occurred to me that Mr. Rogers often echoes New Age guru
Louise Hay on unconditional self-love and openness to the
positive.

Cliched and sentimental? In a Covid round 2 context, perhaps
that’s just what we need–a dose of Louise Hay and Mr. Rogers
to feel better about ourselves and the world.-

Pagglait; a film with a
different streak / Sanjiva
Sahai

  Pagglait
A Netflix original Hindi movie streaming now

⬜️ Tragedy strikes the Giri family when Astik dies just after
a few months of his marriage leaving behind a young widow.

Another take on the decadent societal norms and the age-old
perception on death, loss and widowhood- you might think and
anticipate. Thankfully, writer-director Umesh Bist manages to
brush aside the clichés to bring in some new insight,
underlined by wit and a relatable plot.

⬜️ I guess this is for the first time Arijit Singh is being
introduced as a composer. Songs and theme tracks are
heartwarming. They might not be chartbusters but are apt for
the movie. Arijit and Neelesh Misra have done the lyrics
which, to me, appeared average.

⬜️ The ensemble cast empowers the film with authenticity and
some memorable moments. The patriarchy, the inner wranglings,
the greed, the romance – it’s all there in this saga featuring
three generations. Sanya Malhotra shines gloriously in an
understated performance. Ashutosh and Sheeba, as her parents-
in-law, are again delightfully subtle and genuine. Shruti
Sharma (Sanya’s friend) and Sayani Gupta (in a brief
appearance) have some off-beat sequences to their credit.
Raghubir Yadav, Rajesh Tailang, Meghna Malik and Jameel Khan
contribute their bit to add some more dramatic tension, but
nothing path-breaking.

⬜️ Watch if you have time and a subscription.
▪️▪️▪️

Spic Macay – Pt. Rajan Mishra
– IIT Delhi Program

IIT Delhi, Diamond Jubilee Program 2021 April – May
The pandemic is growing rapidly all over the world. With aim
of spreading hope and remembering Pandit Rajan Mishra ji (who
passed away on the 25th of April), SPIC MACAY dedicates its
online 3-day IIT Delhi Diamond Jubilee year program to him,
the details of which are given in the link:
https://spicmacay.org/rendezvousiitdelhidj

   April 30th, 6:00 pm, Friday:
Cinema Classic “Hirak Rajar Deshe” by Shri Satyajit Ray,
followed by an interaction with the expert, Tuhinabha Majumdar
ji
Link: bit.ly/smcinemaclassic

 ‍♂️1st May, 3:00 pm, Saturday Afternoon :
Great Masters Series- Vidwan Lalgudi G Jayaraman,
followed by an interaction with G J R Krishnan ji
Link: bit.ly/smlivezoom

   May 1st, 6:00 pm, Saturday Evening:
Classical Evening Series with Vidushi Nandini Bedekar
(Hindustani vocalist)

Link: bit.ly/smlivezoom

 May 2nd, 12 noon, Sunday:
Craft and Folk Series with Shri Rajaram Sharma
(Pichwai Painting)
Link: bit.ly/smvolunteermeet

30 Best Spanish Movies on
Netflix (2021) | Second-Half
Travels

Watching Spanish-language movies on Netflix is a great way to
practice vocabulary and listening skills. Spanish films also
allow you to learn about other cultures and gain exposure to
different accents and slang.

If you are an intermediate or advanced learner, I recommend
watching with Spanish subtitles as studies show it enhances
language learning. I also jot down any interesting new
vocabulary and add it to my Anki flashcards later.

Here are some of the top Spanish movieson Netflix streaming in
the US as of January 22, 2021. If you’re not in the US, just
click the title to check if the show is available in your
country. Watch these films while you can, because content
disappears as licensing agreements expire. See the current
list on the link below. If you are not in USA share in the
message box below which of these films were available in your
country.

https://www.secondhalftravels.com/spanish-movies-netflix/

The Dig: A Review by Kanika
Aurora

I chanced upon this quiet little movie based on John Preston’s
novel, ‘The Dig’ depicting the fascinating true story of the ‘
Sutton Hoo Find’ on Netflix last night.

An enchanting and engrossing tale told with stark simplicity
and infinite grace, it acquaints us with Basil Brown, the
excavator extraordinaire with no formal training played with
admirable finesse by Ralph Fiennes who has been hired after
some persuasion for Two pounds, no less, by Edith Pretty
portrayed with quiet determination by Carey Mulligan. She
wants him to dig up huge mounds on her property in Suffolk.She
apparently has an acute interest in archaeology and a strong

feeling that they shall in fact discover something of
value.”My interest in archaeology began like yours,” Edith
tells the initially sceptical Basil, “when I was scarcely old
enough to hold a trowel.”

They literally end up striking gold, discovering a burial
chamber within an 88 foot ship dating back to the Anglo Saxon
period.

Lush English landscapes, an unlikely yet palpable chemistry
between the working class Fiennes and the widowed lady with
the large estate and a son, who develops an attachment towards
Fiennes who has a telescope and an encyclopedic knowledge as
well as the impending threat of war in 1939 Suffolk is the
backdrop. The plot unfolds at a languid pace;the only urgency
displayed when they discover what lies beneath.

There is parallel sub plot of sorts with Peggy played by Lily
James, part of the new excavation team from the British
Museum, whose husband has a glad eye for his male colleague
and a suppressed romance waiting in the wings between her and
and Edith’s cousin, Rory- the gorgeous Johnny Flynn.

Edith Pretty carries her sadness and the burden of her
disappointing past with immense dignity as she discovers she
is incurably unwell. There is an extremely poignant moment
between her son, Robert played by Archie Barnes as he
navigates the ship late at night to the skies above, acutely
aware that his mother may not survive, reassuring her that he
will meet her in another world.

Not for the impatient, watch this movie for the lonely beauty
of the blue skies, the nuanced, unhurried, sensitive
performances, the appreciation of a collective legacy as well
reaffirming your belief that Life is Continuous and “it
speaks, the past.”

Kanika Aurora

“The Sound Man Mangesh Desai”
to be screened at Norient
Film Festival
“The Sound Man Mangesh Desai” getting screened at”Norient Film
Festival, which will take place between the 27 and 31 January
in Bern,Switzerland.It is a festival only for Sound & music.

According to Subhas Sahoo, It was an absolutely fantastic Q/A
session with famous Hollywood Sound Editor Midge Costin(
Saving Private Ryan etc ) who has directed a film on Sound
“Making Waves” Streaming in Amazon Prime, Monia Acciari,
global cinema expert & Moderated by Miriam de Rosa, lecturer
in film studies

You are invited to the new Q&A series of the 10th Norient Film
Festival NFF. Together with our moderators we will learn more
about the films, the directors’ inspiration, and dive deeper
into the films’ topics. say’s Sahoo.

Guests
– Midge Costin, director «Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic
Sound» (USA 2019)
– Subash Sahoo, director «The Sound Man Mangesh Desai» (India
2017)
– Monia Acciari, global cinema expert

Moderated by Miriam de Rosa, lecturer in film studies

Language: English

This session is pre-recorded and will be streamed via
Facebook.

Watch «The Sound Man Mangesh Desai» just before the Q&A and
start at 18.45 CET or watch «Making Waves: The Art of
Cinematic Sound» just before the Q&A and start at 19.15 CET.

Film Info and Streaming on Demand:

https://nff-bern.ch/Making-Waves-The-Art-of-Cinematic-Sound
https://nff-bern.ch/The-Sound-Man-Mangesh-Desai

26th Kolkata International
Film Festival opens on Jan
8th 2021.

Opening Film at KIFF Jan 2021

26th Kolkata International Film Festival was scheduled to take
place from 5th to 12th November, 2020. Due to Covid-19
Pandemic it has been rescheduled for Jan 8-15 2021.

This year, the inauguration of the Kolkata International Film
Festival (KIFF) will be at Nabanna Sabhaghar. Chief minister
Mamata Banerjee will inaugurate the festival only in the
presence Organizing committee members. However, attempts are
being made to get outstation celebrities to join the
inauguration virtually, but confirmation is still awaited from
the celebrities.

Among 1,170 movies submitted for consideration, the
authorities selected 132 feature films, documentaries and
short films to be screened at eight venues. Among these were
81 feature films, 50 short films and documentaries from 45
countries. As a special tribute to Soumitra Chatterjee, the
festival will be inaugurated with the screening of ‘Apur
Sansar’ on January 8 at Rabindra Sadan. His ‘Dekha’,
‘Ganadevata’, ‘Wheel Chair’, ‘Akash Kusum’, ‘Mayurakshi’,
‘Kony’, ‘Podokkhep’ and ‘Bohomaan’ will also be part of the
special tribute section. Director Anubhav Sinha of ‘Thappad’,
‘Article 15’, ‘Mulk’ and ‘Ra.One’ fame has been invited to
deliver the prestigious Satyajit Ray Memorial Lecture this
year.

To watch the films please refer to the schedule at the link
below
https://kiff.in/movie-schedule/venue

An Ode to Sushant | Renu Mal

An Ode to Sushant (Image courtesy Instagram)
Everyone is talking about Sushant Rajput today. Why is it that
people gather and media gets hysterical when a tragedy
happens.. The fact is that we all are so consumed by ourselves
that we do not even lift our heads to notice a person sitting
next to us.
Forget reaching out, we ignore people who do reach out to us
too.
I had written a poem about forty years back, and that holds
good even today.
Read and look around… You may be able to help another Sushant…

A man alive
Searches for a shoulder
To lean on
To cry, to rest,
To draw strength from
He begs for it
Cries for it
And in the end
Dies for it

In vain.
And then
There are
Not one
Not two
But four shoulders
Carrying him to his graveyard
And many more
Willing ones
Walking behind
The fools don't understand
If they had given him one
He wouldn't have died
He would be alive.