Monday, March 26, 2007

I pride myself on the fact that books and movies don't make me cry. But this is not without exception and it goes to show that I am not dead inside.
The first book, if my memory serves me right, that brought tears to my eyes was Anne of Green Gables. It is impossible to keep those tears at bay when sweet ol' Matthew Cuthbert dies.
It was nearly 12 years later that I cried again. This time it was a movie, 'Life is Beautiful' no less. I will make the tall claim, that is this one of the best movies I have ever seen. I found it very hard to get through it. It filled me with a void in the pit of my stomach, one that returns every time I think about the movie. I felt despair, hopelessness and helplessness and at the same time joy at the triumph of the human spirit (spirit, not life).
One could cry at the plight of the Indian cricket team or the waste of man-power, resources and time put into making some Bollywood movies, but this would be a waste of good tears that, if we must shed, let us shed on the countless lives lost in war, massacre and discrimination.

It is a very dull and dreary day outside. It is freezing inside my cubicle at work. I have tried to be nice about it and request them to turn up the heating. My request was met with an incredulous stare and retort saying 'its centrally controlled'. I was tempted to say 'by whom? a penguin?' but bit my tongue. Turns out they dont turn up the heating until it is officially winter. So some weather-man-type has to officially 'pronounce winter open' and everybody will say 'oh! ok then lets turn up the heating'. Till then the likes of me will have frozen twice over!
So I take the only alternative, wear full eskimo gear to work and am ridiculed with snide remarks like 'cold enough for you already' to which I usually dead-pan, 'yes it has been for the last two years'!
It is very difficult to stick your hands in an optical setup, complete with mirrors and all that can scratch if you breathe too hard, with a sweater and a jacket on.
My fingertips hurt with a few hours of typing, and my head hurts the minute I walk in the door. The only consolation is the hot tea that is provided twice a day.
Weather man I beseech you. Pronounce it winter!

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