Why I should stop watching/reading Sci-Fi.


It’s about time I should stop reading/watching sci-fi. Yeah… post-apocalyptic themes in films and books have an effect on me. I shudder at the mere thought of living like Will Smith in ‘I am Legend’. Sorry, I should mention Charlton Heston first in that case because it was him who lived as the last man on Earth, much before Will Smith donned the role of Dr. Robert Neville. Nevertheless, the situation is equally problematic and horrific with skinless, human-looking wild beasts running around the streets after sun down, there’s a certain charm for being the last man on Earth… well there’s for me. By saying that I do not imagine to get on the right wing of a crashed Mirage 2ooo  and make a shot across Hussain Sagar lake. But, I have always imagined living on a yacht in an unending ocean like Kevin Costner in the ‘Waterworld’ or even like Max Rockatansky played by Mel Gibson in the Mad Max series.

Only certain roles make me think like that. I don’t particularly want to be in the shoes of Viggo Mortensen in ‘The Road’ or Denzel Washington in ‘The Book of Eli’. After doing an assignment on ‘The Book of Mirdad’, written by Lebanese writer Mikhail Naima, for the Arab American course in my M.A, I generally shut down to anything starting with ‘The Book of… ‘. Don’t get me wrong friends, the book is worth a reading but only when you think your life is complete and you are ready to drown yourself in a deep pond of chilling philosophy. It is definitely not something you should read when you have six courses to do with 30 assignments hanging on the roof aiming themselves at your poor skull already numb with attendance problems. Well… that was bad time. Anyways, my problem (if at all it is a problem) is that I fancy being a survivor in an ‘end-of-the-world-as-you-know-it’ catastrophe. 2012 made my year! I spend some of the days googling about facts and myths related to whatever was mentioned in the film to see if there were hints of any one of it coming true. In fact, I even remember flipkarting a book called ‘Nostradamus’ by Marion Reading.

Zombie attacks, Alien invasion, Meteor falling etc… are chances for the world to become different. I don’t particularly fancy humans to be extinct. ‘Planet of the Apes’ kinda things wont work for sure. But, the last two in the list could be probable possibilities when it comes to the question of the ‘End of the World’. If they are to happen, we all need to see how we will make the escape. Strategies have to be developed to counter Zombie attacks. Alien invasion is yet another story; the things shown in ‘Independence Day’ or ‘Mars Attacks’ cannot be considered because they are equally stupid! :) So, I urge my blog friends to keep it in mind that such a thing is not very far in the future and be prapared for it if you want to be a survivor.

After all, howdy to Charlton Heston and Will Smith.

I will see what I can do.

Withdrawal


Journeys have been a major part of my life. Be it the first train journey I have in memory; going to spend the Christmas vacation in my grandparent’s school in Northern Kerala in 1989 or the recent journey to Kerala with friends, it all stay clearly in my mind. I always tried to make something out of these journeys in some way. I still have the crayon paintings I made in the first train journey I had. Initially it was crayon paintings, then it became watercolour and later developed into small oil paintings. When my father bought me my first camera when I was in 9th std, it became photographs. Bugging him for pocket-money to buy films and batteries and the charge for printing the photos made it a costly hobby. Even now, I get amazed at the number of film roles coming out during the occasional clean ups I do in my old room. I try to imagine the content of those roles, the angles and subjects of those photos, lost long ago to bugs and exposure.

Memories, rolled, packed and thrown away; that should be definition for those abandoned off-white colour small cylindrical boxes I dig out from a decade old wooden almirah. What makes me sad sometimes is the amount of people I have spent a few days with and later removed from my memory. Some names, sometimes some jokes, run back in. I am afraid they don’t match most of the time. They say trying to forget a person serves the same purpose as remembering. I do nothing but agree. Sometimes, over a drink or after reading a line which makes me remember something I had forgotten long ago, I think about myself as a very harsh person. It’s not part of any self-realization process I do for some psycho purpose but the amount of people I have very easily flushed out of my life simply scares me. What makes me feel shame is the easiness in which go back to whatever it was that I was doing, with the attitude that ‘nothing is gonna make any difference.’ It is the easiness of that withdrawal that shakes me.

I need time.