Nous Sommes Prêts

Till yesterday we followed an orthodox ritual of traveling. We would wait for months to first think and then travel. Our hopes stuck to the availability of tickets; we never made a choice that contested our fascination about train journeys. Though this fascination was an imposed one, over the years, we ended up gingerly falling in love with it. This love spanned between the geographical limits of Mumbai and Kolkata. Summers after summers, we relied on a solo vacation; a vacation that comprised learning English and Bengali grammar too.

Over a period of time, this fascination took a beating; other destinations started casting their spell. We did try to make an exception. Long back the three letter word ‘Goa’ resounded. A travel agent was approached; the yellow colored cubical type office was tucked somewhere between a barber’s shop and a general store, somewhere near a badly smelling fish market. Somehow the plan didn’t materialize the way, we had wanted it to. In fact we never traveled to Goa. We had saved enough for this trip. Our hearts were left broken by the immense agony of cancellation. There were two ways to vent it out, scream wildly or calm down. We calmed down, purchased a Videocon washing machine with the saved amount and never ever spoke about it. On certain occasions, it seemed like we had taken a pledge to never reveal what happened to our plans of a so called different vacation in Goa.

Years faded, desires matured, faith soared and the feet developed an itch; this itch carried the sensation of tramping across destinations. From trains, we made an upwardly move; this time we chose to fly. This wasn’t a fascination but a better option to travel. A perfect time saver; journeys by flights attracted both; raised eyebrows and swollen egos. Even though Kolkata topped the priority list (yes I mean it; the priority list) of vacations, we discovered other destinations such as Gokarna, Chennai, Puducherry, Shimla, Manali, Chandigarh, Pune, Kolhapur, Dharamshala, Silvassa and of course Goa (we visited on multiple occasions). We didn’t limit ourselves to national boundaries, we traversed partly across the globe, to another Asian destination. This time we found ourselves in Thailand; we went exploring through Pattaya and then Bangkok. We shot photographs with tigers, prayed in Buddhist temples, walked through the nights and enjoyed eyeing Dolphins, Orangutans at their comical best. Even though it was our first international trip, our passports bearing the first international stamp; the experiences were quietly brushed beneath a carpet of hushed anguish. Some complained of not being informed; we wondered if they would have towed along! Some complained of the trip being an ego trip; we regret that the ego they spoke about never showed up. Once again we took another pledge to lock our Bangkok memories with an unbreakable password. The 3500 odd photographs remain copied to one of the four or perhaps five external hard disks that we share between us. 

Throughout the years, we realized that breaking away from an orthodox ritual attracts antipathy from all quarters. The society reacts in strange manners. Ties of blood weaken. Promises of friendship are forgotten; it’s really funny how one international trip ends up being a controversy. Will we not take another international trip ever? Why shouldn’t we? Our passports are not meant to rot between their date of issue and renewal. We will travel of course, we will break a norm again; if not in the near future, definitely maybe immediately.

Having lived for long in memories of bygone years, the mind continues demanding freshness. Social media continues to tell us about the restless journeys, our friends, our family and our extended families embark upon. We used to stare at them, on our computer screens, till one day we decided; break the rules, hit the road, take the first left turn, move a little ahead, then turn to the right and continue going straight; without once, thinking of taking a U Turn.

Therefore to many journeys ahead, we wish to say, “Nous Sommes Prêts”.

-Virtuous Vociferous 

MUCH AHEAD OF THE MOVIES

Hours before I leave to watch a movie, an army of expectations keeps parading between my thoughts. I won’t label it paranoia. But I would agree upon the word - ‘excitement’. Punctuated by restlessness and driven by the haste to be at the movie theater, marking my attendance from the first frame till the last; about everything in general, keeps me at the peak of my curiosity.

I've time and again tried to decode this premonition and failed repeatedly. In between, having watched a movie and while gearing up for the next, I've tried to practice mediation, to calm myself down. The habit seems to show no positive signs of ceasing easily.

I think, I slip too deep in the skin of an avid movie watcher’s real character. This edginess is deep rooted in the frequency with which, I continue watching the movie trailers. Before deciding to watch the movie, I get into a questioning mode – Will they delete a certain scene? Will the movie get banned? Will some activists stall the movie screening? Will the promo song play in the beginning or is set to act as climax? Will there be a cameo by a secret actor? Will it prove the critics wrong? Will it leave me feeling fully entertained and sufficiently satisfied?

In this modern era, movies are just not limited to single screen theatres, multiplexes or video parlors. They have started intruding the comforts of our palms and grown instantly watchable at our thumb’s touch. The advent of iPad, tablets, phablets and other gadgets has a dual impact on hyperactive people like me. Take for instance, I come across a recently released movie, which is watched either by a colleague in the office or by a fellow traveler in the train. An imaginary bulb of analytical nature starts flickering in my mind. I start concentrating on a particular scene, thinking, is this the beginning of the movie, is this the scene on the other side of interval or is this the end? Just then, the original watcher, the owner of the motion picture (definitely a pirated version) decides to act like a ring master. He sharpens his index finger, places it on the screen and moves it vigorously (forward, backward). The entire movie either gets rewound or is pushed many scenes ahead; leaving me (the secret watcher) harrowed. Once again all hopes are pinned on the next day, next show or last day, last show. And thus, once again, I grow restless.

This composition of exhilaration is not just limited to the upcoming experience of planning to watch the movie, but it also extends to the time I shall spend to arrive at the movie screening. Almost on all occasions, to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam or to escape standing last in a queue to procure my tickets booed online, I have found myself reaching almost 60 minutes in advance of the actual screening time. When I am alone, I am not bothered. But when accompanied by my calm mannered spouse, equally calm mother and other family members, I am the most preferred subject to be regarded as an irritant. For what I declare as punctuality, I am conferred the title of being ‘a little too much’ of a manipulator.

I am planning to watch another movie this evening, once again at a multiplex nearby. This movie that has been earning rave reviews ever since it released has been playing itself within the confines of my mind. Since it is a dark thriller, drenched thick in the hues of revenge; how can I control myself? And yet I find myself in control. I think my real test would be during the final hours of departure from my workplace and the actual time of arrival at the multiplex. It is then, I shall get to know, if the army decides to parade again! Till then, it is only the trailer, the reviews of critics and the promo song playing back-to-back, like blockbuster hits in my imaginary trails of the storyline. As insane as I should be getting, I guess!

-vociferous