The Eyes

A thought got stuck in my head. That my child's eyes would have the same brown color that his eyes had. I kept thinking I would think of him when I look at those eyes – how that would ruin my world. How I would be asked – hey, how come his eyes are brown – and without wanting to, I would show some emotion – a fake smile, a odd giggle – something people will notice. I was convinced about the color of those eyes.

Those eyes still haunt me, they drift into my dreams and turn them upside down. Its been more than 12 years since I last saw him – and suddenly a friend request comes about 2 months back. It screwed my mind up – a friend had told me that he had died in an accident an year back. Blocked him – but the old fear engulfed me for a day again. That he may talk to someone close to me – and it will ruin my life. I hadn't talked 18 years back – and I cannot talk now, not now!

Then mamma was weak – 8 months pregnant. He told me, if I tell her – she wont survive the shock. I couldn't tell anyone else – it was his word against mine, wasn't it? He made me take some medicines – everyday – so nobody could find out about it. He used his kerchief to wipe blood of me – and kept it in his pocket – said he would always keep it with him, as a reminder of the good times. It continued for 2 years, till papa got transferred to Madras – and we moved.

I never had any boyfriends, I thought I would never marry. No one would want to be with me after knowing my past – and anyone would know, even if I don't tell. No way could I pass for a virgin. Polluted. No way could I forget about him – and when I was eighteen, he came visiting. Right here to Chennai. Papa welcomed him, I served him tea. He said he would never leave me. It took me a whole day to find the courage to tell him to fuck off. Never saw him again – though heard about him from old classmates. And, an year back, I came to know that he was dead. End of a dreadful chapter.

I believed I had been damaged – damaged so I could never be a mother – all those medicines. Before we got married, we went to a gynecologist – to make sure I was alright. I was alright, and when we knew it beyond any doubt – we got married 6 months back. Our child had to be born in a "family" – regardless of what I thought of marriage. I couldn't burden him with my ideology – even before he was born.

But then, comes the friend request. Since then, those eyes that saw me have came back to haunt me.

Watching הערת שוליים (Footnote)

Netflix Summary: Long-buried tensions erupt in this witty drama, which follows the strained relationship between a reserved Talmudic scholar and his ambitious son -- both professors at the same university -- when the father wins a prestigious award the son covets.
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A sour family drama designed as a comedy – with deft Coen Brothers-like touches. Its rare to see a film with academic research at its center – and at that fast-paced with clever voiceover and PowerPoint style exposition. It is easy to see why the film bagged the prize for the best screenplay at Cannes.

The central conflict is between a father and son, both Talmudic scholars. Eliezer Shkolnik is a bitter old man whose meticulous study of a variant of the Talmud becomes worthless because of a chance discovery by Prof. Grossmann proving the same conclusions. His claim to fame is a single footnote in a large 2-volume introductory study.

The son, Uriel, is a popular public figure and is inducted into the Academy early in the film. Later, father receives the news of winning the prestigious Israel prize through a clerical mistake. We see the academic-politics in action in an attempt to save face – as the son decides to turn down the prize that has been long denied to his father. As Grossmann is the head of the committee deciding on the prize – the footnote that he left out becomes as important as the other footnote.

Along the way, the absurd comic touches of the filmmakers work wonderfully to keep you interested in a story that could otherwise feel too serious. A must watch. Hopefully it will find a wider audience.

Menschenfresserin - 22

The first time she saw sea beach was after we split up – she sent me some photos, she looked happy and I felt satisfied. She always had a dream of making love at a beach – in the wet sand, as the sun rises. The sun rising as soon as we are spent – reviving us. She wanted to live at the beach – die with the setting sun (years later of course), with the waves kissing the red sky.

In the nights she sang to me – in languages I did not know. Sad songs that made me lose track of time. She knew many languages – French, Bangla, Japanese and more. I understood just a few words – too few to understand the songs. But they moved me to tears some rare times – she moved me.

She told me how they wanted her to die as well. They blamed her for others death – she was not invited to any celebrations – as she was an ill-omen, causing deaths. Even she blamed herself – if only I was able to open the tube, if only I knew the tube has to be broken to open – she had recurring nightmares, shuddering in her sleep. She saw herself drinking up her parents, and they drinking each-other up.

Once we decided to try some guided meditation to find a way to stop these dreams. She had to walk through a beautiful forest – in early autumn – cross a clear water stream, climb up a small hill to reach a cave, and find someone there, talk to him about the dream – this someone will give some sound advice.

Not surprisingly, she found me in the cave, on the snow-clad hill. And I, I did not say a thing. I walked her to the edge of a cliff, and threw her down – with an intent to kill.

Menschenfresserin - 21

A large fresco just across from the entrance – a young man standing in an empty room – a room that has been closed – the furniture is all covered with canvas – dust has settled on everything – the boy stood with a letter in his hand – looking at something outside the fresco – the writing on the letter was all visible – but it was in a foreign language.

There she was with a pink thing against her chest – it wasn't quite human – I had no idea how to care for it – so I wished she would get rid of it – but she insisted it was a part of us, something we created together – I did not want to be guardian of some hybrid of human and cat or whatever it was – nah, I don't remember making this ever. And she left even before the sun grazed the earth.

Nothing here now but recordings. But the recordings keep changing themselves – mutating into something that is quite different every time I play them. Its like Virus B-23 has attacked them and was causing mutations that were sometimes favorable and sometimes otherwise. Mostly ununderstandable. Well, I suppose I have to live with them anyways.