Tuesday, November 17, 2009

I Want To Be a Crocodile

Photo from-http://mikeandcarol.skovron.com/blog/2008/11/big-trip-2008_21.html

In the last forty hours, I’ve watched The Shawshank Redemption thrice, constantly trying to figure why they made timid attempts to trash the movie by adding those (not) touching little snippets about hope. During the third run, I switched over to Being Jane. She was right when she said that, ‘Bad characters often thrive,’ and Mr.Wisley is equally correct in stating, “The good do not always come to good ends.” So, I like the part better where Dufresne digs a (perfectly) circular hole out of his prison cell and ‘crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness.’ I love the part when he adds the finishing touches to his freedom by making a getaway with all of the prison warden’s laundered money. I adore the fact that his victory is so all encompassing. But Red’s little speech about ‘rehabilitation’ and his consequent parole was trite. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t say no to life close to the Pacific in ‘a warm place with no memory.’

Sometimes, I guess familiarity becomes irksome. Because you have to keep acting out of habit to fit the context. You just want to leave that behind. I don’t just want to travel, I want to go somewhere and get lost. Like really lost, with no clue as to where I am, or who the people around me are. I think it would be healthy if some well meaning and motivated person blindfolds me and drops me off in some completely alien context. Perhaps there, I could explore what I really want and build life from scratch. Because I think my dreams have changed, and only a changed context would help me realise them. But you know what they say, be careful what you wish for. And I say, what you wish for, shouldn't bring you to your knees

Or maybe I should just stop watching wonky foreign movies which only make me more morbid than I actually am.

My safest future occupation is being a crocodile. A lazy one. Not one of those overtly determined specimens that made Michael Douglas’s life miserable in ‘Romancing the Stone’.

(I like the last part:
Jack Colton: Yeah, that poor old yellow-tailed guy... developed a fatal case of indigestion. He died right in my arms. Joan Wilder: I can't blame him. If I were to die there's nowhere on earth I'd rather be.)

I want to be able to bake on a sun warmed rock. It would perpetually be winter, with cold winds blowing through the trees, but the sun would be bright and warm on my scaly back. I’d dream my way through my life, dream a few fish into my jaws and dream a little more. On that well located rock on the waterfront of course. Occasionally hum ABBA. And twitch to the beat expecting the rest of the wildlife to break into chorus and the water to gurgle in time with us.

But, there is no direct flight to Xanadu.
No map to Atlantis.
So basically, I’m stuck in New Delhi with my pipe dreams. That is, dreams of watering plants with a hose. So it is a ‘pipe’ dream. Yes, this is my personal brand of warped humour and I won’t blame it on my cold. It just wouldn’t be fair to Influenza.