Come summer, the Gulmohar colours the world a striking shade of red. My wondrous heart, is often drawn to it. I instinctively pick the bounties strewn beneath it, reliving moments of the childhood. The Gulmohar is inseparable from memories of summers. Since both my parents worked, almost every summer my brother and I were packed off for a 2 month vacation to our native place. We'd reunite with our cousin and the trio would then hop across relatives for the next 2 months. The vacation mostly began with my mom's parents. They lived in a not-so-little house on the outskirts of Belgaum; which, for us excitable kiddos, was a huge place away from the city, with lots of space to play. A few feet from the porch, you would be greeted by this magnanimous Gulmohar with a chabutara (sitting platform) around it. We would play our games around the tree; my grandfather sitting on the chabutara, discussing the news of the day with his friends. My grandmother wove the days together; plucking t
Image Credit: The Print It's been a while since I spoke about movies. This weekend the husband took me to watch this beautifully crafted piece, "Thappad", in the cinemas. A highly recommended watch indeed. If you haven't been following the promotions and the reviews, Thappad takes on the not-so-casual issue of casual patriarchy, that runs through any average Indian's life. We first see the protagonist, Amrita, through her every day routine, of a doting wife sustaining a man-child at home. We see her dorn in the adarsh-nari's kurta and chudidar's complete with the messy dupatta. (If it is by choice or by accident I am unsure. But it surely left an impression.) Her only flaw being she can't cook as well as the husband's mother. But in all other aspects she is the ideal wife, hovering over the husband in his presence, over his parents and the house in his absence. The next few minutes are spent building upto the event of the slap, and tha