Now that was one nice ride – Eight episodes of a  set in a small English town. The


acting superb. The town beautiful!

This idyllic town is rocked – a 11 year old boy is found dead on the beach. And before we are let to discover the killer in the last episode we live some lives and then watch some very great struggles – our everyday does become our special or eerie day, does it not! The final part of the wrenching discovery: the emotions are high, tears will well up in in your eyes as it does to the ballsy(big city girl in this small town) reporter Karen White played by Vicky McClure. After the high note of tears and still restrained emoting on screen, the music (narrative) continues to soar… it’s sublime as the Reverend Paul Coates (Arthur Darvill) tries and manages to bring solace from the Good Book: Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamour and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.

Be kind to one another. Tender-hearted. Forgive one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

And you hear the term Service (as opposed to Mass) mentioned a few times too… Yes, these are the Anglicans :). But, yes, this priest if he were at your parish might get you to visit and also forget that the church was fast losing its relevance, which you were completely convinced about just a few weeks ago. Quite like the guys in Broadchurch.

The Detectives: Inspector Alec Hardy (David Tennant) Detective Sergeant Ellie Miller (Olivia Colman) are superb. it’s a triumph of underplaying that ably carry you the viewer on high emotional note. Tennant is called on to be this very strong guy even in the larger setting of failing health and coming in from a high profile blotched murder investigation in the city, before he come to this small town. He carries the melancholy and machoness firmly on his slender shoulder. And in Colman he has able support. She has a lot layered into her character and she plays them well – mother, detective, wife, friend, neighbor…

And when Karen White (Vicky McClure) does the Journo thing, of trying to bring justice instead of reporting and uses the ‘English Rose’ – Beth Latimer (Jodie Whittaker) effectively. Beth’s brilliant as the young mother – tender, lost-of-faith, wavering, strong. Mark (Andrew Buchan) the father of the boy has it tough with one streak of gray.

It’s a story told tenderly, of a gentle community that comes on hard times. Yes, like it’s said, it’s the tough times that defines one’s true character. Oh, right! the town goes about these times, they falter, they find strength, they hold on, a couple of them fall by the wayside, It’s not all bleak, there is the brighter most encouraging triumph of the human spirit. there is the otherside (the invisible/the force) that flits by when the fight gets tough and the spirit weak. but it still stays in the realm of the logical – the real. Not once is the viewer asked to look away to hide the twists or blind eyes for red herrings.

It’s rewarding few hours in the dark. the light after is comforting still.

Broadchurch will be back, flashes the message on the screen. That kind of hope ever so welcome… though the wait might be a long time.


a sunny song on a road forlorn

The moon has stayed on
– playing it’s loony tunes.
The date on the newspaper had changed
the news remained in columns unchanged
the coffee lukewarm and flat
crows on the cycle track fed on a fat rat

Smile that askanced her lips
streamed radiant beams
driving yesterday’s restless sleep and thoughts mundane
strains of heavenly rhythm for heart’s hopscotch
momentarily went boom boody-boom boody
as a shadow of a sling bag waved

Such the pleasure of the pain of longing
as Facebook updates were status quo
and the Skype button twinkled a white light
burying head in thick gooey text
he waited for colors to change
for the lights to change
for relief from the furtherest reaches
for even few drops into that cup running on empty

Roads ahead were dark
thoughts turned to dreary
but the morning light dispelled gloom
her soft hands dragging huge filthy monsters
into coffee cups with amazing ease
temple flowers laughed merrily from the garlands sweet
though it’s future like the Irish airman’s lament
it’s very life soon to wither at the deity’s feet

Rain – wash

poemclouds piled up: grey on grey
into the growing darkness rumbled a rolling long thunder
and poured forth joyous rain
raging storm inside joined  the pouring rhythm

moments without her
those hours churn acidic bile sharpening the tongue
reason and justifications started to roll out in reams
rhyming with pain was that life-beat

she said, my utopia has no place for you
mine wasn’t one without her
so when she flies around in her cage
the whispering raindrops melted the fearsome bars

Rain soothes, the weary bones start to tingle
veins chime in a new throbbing song
all suddenly awaking to a dead drop to plead:
sweet love, don’t go, it’s always too soon.

– may 2012