Solo – the bilingual that speaks in tongues like a fake Pentecost!

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The girls are beautiful and so are the locales and both these are shot beautifully.   It’s sensuous!  and Dulquer is a rock star!  That is about sums the movie up succinctly.  Guns N’ Roses – Paradise City, would have sounded right when the credits rolled.  [Symbol]

There are 4 stories in here and Bejoy goes off on some Shiva path, for depth?  Well, can’t tell really why, all  it does is add an illustration to the title page of every each story

Dhansika, Arthi Venkatesh, Sruthi Hariharan, Neha Sharma are absolutely gorgeous and the camera is calm, firm and is often gentle and even  emits warm glow, not for a moment does it seem voyeuristic.  And then Ann Augustine who walks in and out of the ‘world of trilok’, with the camera looking on longingly for

solo-malayalam-movie-dulquer-salmaan-looks

The tales:
World of Shekhar
World of Trilok
World of Siva
World of Rudra

a wee bit more, we plead.  Haven’t seen Ann Augustine in a long, long time.    There is something to Bejoy’s camera when it gazes at women:  Juhi Babbar was ravishing in that short film where no words were spoken,  a movie Bejoy made over a decade ago with Mohanlal – Reflection.  Have you seen Aditi Rao Hydari in Wazir?  Exactly!, that’s the point!

There are strong performances in the film.  Dulquer Salmaan gets to play 4 very different characters in the 4 stories.  The stammer in the first story was over done so was that story, and it really seemed like Bejoy had gotten it all wrong.  But the other 3 tales are far better woven.

They are all tales or a very strong male, no no, the women are not just lookers-on, but it’s just that I felt the Solo was a Dulquer portfolio folder.

Bijoy was a director,  I found interesting from the very first flick of his I saw, Shaitan.   Oh! my o my, I thought it had huge promise and delivered too; it did seem to have a small flick feel with all the new comers, but what a lovely flick that was.  There was no better remix of the old favorite: Khoya Khoya Chand, that song of longing was fit with a beautiful eerie.   So there was great promise from very early on,  and he only somewhat delivered on them, somehow making one feel that he was holding back on that flourish which would have made it fantastic, or maybe he was just that touch impatient or restless to wait and find and let that magic work.  I felt that with David, Wazir and then again with Solo.  It’s like we felt about Ranbirmised but didn’t deliver, and still no denying that in there is a treasure trove in there,  and those stones were waiting to catch the light to reflect but does quite reach deep enough for that to happen.    These disappointments at the box-office could also be that process of the diamond being cut.  There is such throbbing energy of promise that is just short of that one deft cut.

So, we will wait until the next offering and sure hope Bejoy finds the right team that will light up cinema halls and make for film history.  Ofcourse it’s coming.

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That feeling sometimes called love

 

 

Waste of time, sheer waste of time, that love I poured out!
And she asked, oh, it was yours to pour out eh?
Did you make it and bottle it that you pour it at will?
And as she reached and set the star above in line with the moon,
she whispered

Love blossomed with i beheld you
It was no seed i plafor poemnted and nurtured or brew that i distilled with care
But it did posses me, and it became me, nay not a being like
The makeup i could cake/put on.
It felt it in my eyes, it poured out with
The tears that welled and spilled
It was in the spit that in anger i sprayed
But mostly it had
The warm feeling that surged in my greatest despair, to dispel.

In was in the great darkness I asked about love,
And like a spark I found it within.

She moved the gray cloud away from the light of the moon
And singsonged
Love reared it’s head sometimes when i tried to buy myself some of it
And when at it, a pinch of happiness, and both evaded
I tired to nurture it in me with thoughts and bold moves
It didn’t awaken in me nor could I touch it on the outside

And then she looked down from the moon still reflecting in her eyes
And chimed
Its grace my love, it dwells in us. And when love does dwell
Prayers are the heart’s throb, smiles sparkle in the eyes
The body knows not it’s pain,
And even the ugly world shines forth
And she reached down and kissed deep on my lips
And bewildered i beheld that which i can’t posses or lockup for later.

d – 4 July 2017

a slightly long sigh

The dull throb of listlessness
Waiting on the hurt of the next burning hot drop
To thump into the numb scalp
And then the open eyes see
the epicenter of the deep darkness
of the pitch dark gloom
The promises of light still beckon
‘but it is beyond this threshold’, she whispered.

My knees hurt from the running away

The pain is intense ever so often
From psychedelic full HD nightmares
As real as Maya and her sad laugh

Oh yes, those pinstripes of enabling light
In the darkness of the thick old blanket

The light comes in from the frayed edges
Of patches stitched over old tears of
Half fought battles
Of tough times and stumbling steps

Light that forced itself on my bleakness
That hope, wakes me up in cold sweat

There is solace still at the Rock
My parents set me up on in my far off youth
None at all at the sanctuary where the selfish greedy priest sits
He turned the water that make you thirst never more
Into an abyss of toxic waste
‘You all are to blame, you tragic losers’, his taunts echo.

My sighing and heaving bends the old rod I lean on
Still sturdy though, form the soaking of tears of my mother
The sweat that dropped on it from my father’s brow
when he smiled his bitter sweet
the strains of old hymns
the intermittent outpouring of love
the reluctant obedience of a daughter
the resplendent sunrise and sunset I sometimes see over the city smog
the selfless giving of friends…

I stopped at these water stations via dolorosa
Seeking my salvation

She got me wrong. And drowned my song

The days filled with Indian summer colors
bright and blinding, and yet inviting
her moves were graceful even as she pulled her feet up,
on to the sofa.

And in a sudden mood shift, like a leopard
that sensed danger coming in from afar
she stared out of her big eyes and her face went Kali
and her tongue thirsted for the blood of my inner Asura
and turning,  she walked away  – gait purposeful
ugly and damning…

I sat at the doorway and sang my lil ditty,
she got me wrong, and drowned my slow song.

The days are ashen winter shade
glum and gloom and the chill uninviting
Her face turned away from my luck turning-south and my cold
cold feet

the mood remains cold and dark
and no cat moves or glacier shift in sight.
Her stare blank even in that rare glimpse you catch
no talks of the taste of coffee just the darkness of scorn
tears did well, and faltering steps losing purpose
ugly and sorrowing…

I sat at the parking lot and sang my lil ditty
she got me wrong, and drowned that swelling song..

Yesterday, over my shoulder

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Oh! it’s been years now
but like the shadows from yesterday overlooks
the shoulder, in the mirror
I see you sitting, smiling at I walked in

you looked troubled then
but soon we laughed to the rhythm of
the city’s cacophonous traffic sounds.
Oblivious, the earth had for us
brought forth new flowers

the weight and stench of
yesterday’s
dismal lilies lay at our feet
Coffee’s aroma filled, then enveloped
us in it’s cloud

and that seemingly ordinary lifted and buoyed us
No land no water no language nor song’s lilt
even slightly alien.
we belonged! and the world inviting
where a while ago we were
unwanted!

Am i losin’ you?

Am i losin’ you?

My baby’s gone, she drifted out again.
she brings light and glow to ashen cheeks when around
and ominous dark clouds hang on uninvited
she goes away.
———–
Do you lie to me love?  And still2014-06-27 10.02.37 love me?
Or don’t you love, thus you lie to me?
Am I just a freetime plug?
Is my trouble my ego – that thing inside of me that aches
and raptures with blinding pain,
when I find your ‘with me’, elsewhere.

Is what I am going through plight or a freeing moment ?
will I love you inspite of you not?
Are you leaning on me or you just pressing on my shoulder
to see further?
Am I just the shelter from the drizzles that trouble you
that you call storms?

I cry, I moan, I curl up to find darkness’ perfect pitch to hide,
but darkness dispels and room lights up from the flare of your smile
I whimper, I groan, I flare up in anger-unexplained at a hat’s drop.
Soothed I lie in the comfort and warmth of her arms.

Oh! I am driven insane, by the thought of callousness
she said, she would call, but she had visitors that take her every minute away?
Oh she never said, she would be mine, I only dreamed of such bliss
she came in torrents of rains’ coolness and washed away the grime of
yesterday’s sorrow and worries of tomorrows.

As uncertain as my tomorrow was my yesterday
today slips between the covers of these two
worrying has turned me sour,
was your sweetness that made me leap in the air
built on an illusion of lies.

Oh damn! That takes away even the beautiful yesterdays,
them cushions that ease away troubled tomorrows.

a sunny song on a road forlorn

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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