Film Review: Life of Pi

Having read the novel on which the movie is based, many years ago, I like the rest of the world had thought this would be an impossible movie to make. But what expected was certainly not what I ended up viewing: a classic movie.

Life of Pi has you in its thrall from the first. Considering that even the Booker-prize winning author of the original book (2001) Yann Martel approved, it is hard not to like the film.  While the 3D version has been highly acclaimed, the regular 2D version is also great to watch and watch you must, movie buff or not.

The film begins with the haunting voice of Bombay Jayashree, which had the North Indian in the seat next to me wondering if it was a Malayalam movie. With the initial, captivating shots of the animals in the zoo the movie will have your undivided attention for the entire 127 minutes.

The movie takes place in early twentieth century Pondicherry. The protagonist is a sixteen-year old boy Piscine Molitor Patel, named after a swimming pool in France, thanks to his uncle. The humiliation caused by his name, when everyone in school starts calling him Pissing, forces the younger version of the protagonist to change his name to Pi – a scene that is highly amusing. The adult Pi (played by Irfan Khan) retells the story to an author. This author, who has a writer’s block, has been sent to Pi by his uncle with the implication that Pi’s story would make him believe in God.

After an amusing retelling of his childhood, which included the introduction of the Tamil Hindu Pi to Christianity and Islam, as well as his first love, Pi explains how his incredible journey came about. As a result of political turbulence in the country, Pi’s parents, played by Adil Hussain and Tabu, decide to take the family and the animals to Canada. This is how the distraught Pi ends up on a Japanese freighter named the Tsimtsum.

But the ill-fated ship meets disaster when a storm at sea sinks leaving Pi, an injured zebra, an orangutan and a hyena the only survivors aboard a lifeboat. The hungry hyena kills the other two animals but is in turn killed by another undetected survivor – Richard Parker, the tiger. The appearance of the tiger has Pi scrambling to make a raft from lifejackets to avoid being eaten by the tiger. Thus begins the journey of 227 days by sea where Pi learns to survive and feed himself and the tiger.

Pi’s attempts to find food at sea, fill the boredom and train the tiger, keeps the viewer hooked. After a failed attempt at being rescued by a passing ship the boat ends up on a floating island of algae. But they leave when Pi discovers the island is carnivorous. Watch the film to know how.

The finally reach land where Pi is upset when Richard Parker leaves him to enter the jungle. Pi explains he wasn’t upset with the tiger because it left but because, in Pi’s words, “All of life is an act of letting go but what hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye”. The insurance agents of the ship find his story hard to believe and so Pi concocts another more believable story which the author notes is strikingly similar to the original tale though the animals have been replaced by human characters.

Director Ang Lee, though not the original choice for the movie, has done a fabulous job in creating wholesome entertainment. Claudio Miranda's beautiful cinematography and Mychael Danna's intoxicating score make it a worthwhile watch. The amazing CG creation of the Bengal Tiger and other animals will have you believe you’re seeing the real thing.

The teenage Pi is played by Suraj Sharma, chosen from amongst almost 3,000 young men who auditioned. Sharma had to undergo extensive training in ocean survival as well as yoga and meditation in preparation for the part.

In Taiwan, Ang Lee's home country, the ocean scenes of the film were shot at a giant wave tank built by the crew in an abandoned airport. The tank is currently known as the world’s largest self-generating wave tank, with a capacity of 1.7 million gallons. The rest of the movie was shot between India and Canada.

Despite reservations about the success of the movie which had a relatively unknown international cast, the movie grossed almost $109,901,300 USD worldwide and still counting. The movie has been highly acclaimed by the critics and there is talk of possible Oscars as well. My recommendation? This is one movie that should not be missed.

Magic Carpet Land

(This is poem was written on one of my many train journeys where I contemplated my experiences in Iran with fond thoughts).

Warm, welcoming, beautiful country

with palaces I only read about in Kubla Khan¹,

I came as a stranger into your home

and you accepted me with outstretched arms.

Despite our differences, irrespective of similarities,

you treated me an honoured guest.

As I visited your haunts and splendours

you explained to me their magical past.

As I tasted the scent of your ‘polo²,’

You mesmerized me with your charming faces

and told me of your love for Shahrukh Khan.

I, lounging back, filled to the brim

With pistachios and saffron, pomegranates and carpets,

heard you whisper to me through Hafez and Sa’adi

stories of your once glorious Persepolis

and the not-quite-forgotten legendary Cyrus the Great.

You then also told me of your dreams of returning

to who you were 30 years ago.

After seeing your palaces, treasures, history and serenity,

as I prepared to depart

you left me with your warmest of wishes

calling me your daughter.

As I returned to my own homeland

it was yours that I knew would also remain

in my heart, deeply cherished

and stowed away for lonely nights. 

1. Reference to Coleridge’s poem of the same name that describes glorious palaces and garden he saw in his intoxicated dreams

2. Polo is the name given for the Iranian rice dish

On the bus ...

I am convinced of it! Right after what happened yesterday. Yes I'm absolutely sure. India's and probably even the world's worst bus conductors are right here in the Land of Letters aka Kottayam. Why, you ask me, am I so convinced? Sample the following:

1. The conductor of a certain bus insists on brushing against me till I finally learn evasion. He loses interest of course once I get my thali.
2. Another conductor found out that I could speak English well and would use it remarks against us several times my friends and I got on that bus. (This guy also went to jail later for running down someone).
3. When the conductor of the bus I got on yesterday found out I had no change for my ticket he asked me to get off the bus!

Hail Kottayam bus conductors!

P.S: There are also some nice ones here. So I won't say all of them are bad.

Praise to the Malayali woman

You call yourself the Malayali Manga-
the epitome of all that is good in your homeland Kerala,
dressing prim and proper.
You wear only gold, which the elders approve
and cook and clean like a "good" wife.
You smile eternally, never out,
you're every Malayali mother-in-law's dream come true.
You never shout or scream or embarrass
and cover your ears when I mention 'sex' or 'taboo.'
You frown on my unorthodoxness
and my I-don't-care-if-I-fit-in attitude.
You're the flawless, God-fearing, splendid woman that some of us can never aspire to be.
Yet I hear you fiercely discuss on the train
with our carbon copy friends
(in the ladies compartment of course, when men are not around)
whether Gigi/Beena/Shymol? some other God-forsaken woman
could quite possibly be able to flaunt
her stomach revealed, in a sari
while still staring at my non-conformity.

(This poem was the result of an actual conversation overheard on a train, between some white collar women. The conversation disgusted me and made me think about what Keralites really are.

A Plea

I am the Indian woman:

docile   sweet   vulnerable
good-natured   spritzy
insipid   floundering   mild
bee-like   tepid
uncomplaining
Gangatic-tears   silently-accepting
.



I too am the Indian woman:

ruthless   greedy   steely
sophisticated   astute   lustful
harbinger   bold   grrl
contemptuous   obtuse  up-in-arms
uncompromising   firm   determined
.



I am she -
the power and the future
in my hands.
Let me live.

Call Centre's Circus

Come to Citiphones one and all
Experiences galore in every call
The costume party's on this Friday
provided no nagging customers all day.
You''ll hear of a customer who called in to say
"I thought my accounts were closed today"
because he saw on his statement received
'Closing balance' - what a weed!
There'll be customers calling you on April 4
"My card hasn't reached, please tell me more."
Then they'll realize in the blink of an eye
the card says '04/04' - my o my!
There'll be Italians, Spaniards, French, Japanese,
but you'll soon learn to grapple with ease.
Whining old ladies, snappy gentlemen,
watch agents' faces slowly sadden.
Marked improvement in performance they say
- on the flip side there's a cut in pay.
Newcomers on the floor we have seen,
adieu to old buddies, on it we're not keen.
Someday in Chennai Citiphones may be gone
but till then -

Come to Citiphones one and all
Experiences galore in every call.

(This poem was probably the first to display my sarcastic vein and was written while I worked with the inbound call centre for Citibank's UK clients, debit card and accounting division (2003-4). The poem was written as part of a poetry competition organised by one of the teams as part of its activities. The costume party is a reference to the end of a month-long celebrations by the company. The references are to actual experiences on the floor.)

Daughter-in-law

Finally! they will say
when I tell them:
after one whole year
you have finally finished
that gas cylinder.
We were wondering when you would do it.
Don't you even cook anything?
Or do you always buy your food?
No wonder you have put on such weight.
But now that it is over
we can give you a new one.
You better finish this in 3 months time.
What? Doesn't matter if you have
a microwave or an induction cooker.
Who uses them to cook anyway!
Cooking must be done the old-fashioned way
on a gas stove
with heavy pots and pans.
Too much oil you say?
Use olive oil - no health problems.
O that research must be by some Indian people
who haven't been acknowledged;
Sesame oil & coconut oil will cause cholesterol
even if you say that it doesn't cause heart attack.
Of course I know many people who died of cholesterol!
Better to stick to the olive oil
that Western countries promote.
Never mind if its too expensive for you.
Use sunflower oil then.
Forget the research. I know best.
You are no longer part of your parents family.
So don't ask them or go stay with them
even if you are nothing in our house.
We insist on ruling over your life
daughter-in-law.

(This poem, a dramatic monologue of sorts, is obviously highly exaggerated, but certainly with grounds in real life as it is based on the experiences of women friends and people I read about.)

Making sense

In a world driven by sense & sensibilities

where speed and accuracy count

to the last nanosecond,

it struck me

that a bird might in fact

have more civic sense than people,

when I noticed at the railway station,

waiting for my morning train,

a crow pick up from the tracks

a discarded, crisp, paper cup

in the hopes of a quick breakfast,

and sitting on the bridge

realizing that there was little hope of his free coffee,

swiftly flew back

and deposited it where it had been found,

while the office goer on the next platform 

dredged his cup

and threw it on the nearest track,

as the train approached.

(Photo : Jain Cyriac Babu)

Farewell my Friend

When I saw your casket lowered into the earth
I realized that I would no more
see that lovely smile that would light up a dozen faces
hear that voice that comforted so many
feel that joie-de-vivre that pushed many a face forward
know that if I called your mobile I would never again have a friend waiting there.
Though they will never compensate your presence
I have the memories of my cherished friend
which I will hold close to my heart
and relive every time I want to be with you again.
I pray you find that elusive peace and happiness
in your new home.
Peace my friend.

Eulogy for Reena Chacko

Last night many of us may have heard the shocking news of the demise of a former colleague and beloved friend of mine Reena. Her accidental death has left many of us unable to believe the news and some of us in tears.
Reena was indeed a good friend to those of us who knew her. It is terribly hard to visualize that we will no longer hear that chirpy laugh or be unable to see once more that vivacious, fun, open-minded, sweet young woman. She always lauded creativity and enjoyed a stimulating intellectual discussion. I know we clicked the instant that we met up when I first stepped into the portals of my alma mater as a teacher. Reena always expressed her desire to sit in one of my more creative classes and now that will never happen.
Even now, if I listen closely, can hear her voice in my head affectionately calling me. Reena, you are no more and it saddens me that I will never have a chance to hug you or see your smile again.
I miss you very much but I will take heart in the fact that you have moved on to a better place where I hope to someday meet you and seriously thrash you for leaving so soon! You will always hold a special place with me. 

Balance

One uttered word
a brief glance
1 momentary smile
oru silent prayer
ek patient ear
un quick touch

can make all the difference
in balancing life and death.