Enoch Arden : Tennyson's Epic Poem

Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;
And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands;
Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf
In cluster; then a moulder'd church; and higher
A long street climbs to one tall-tower'd mill;
And high in heaven behind it a gray down
With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,
By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes
Green in a cuplike hollow of the down.

Here on this beach a hundred years ago,
Three children of three houses, Annie Lee,
The prettiest little damsel in the port,
And Philip Ray the miller's only son,
And Enoch Arden, a rough sailor's lad
Made orphan by a winter shipwreck, play'd
Among the waste and lumber of the shore,
Hard coils of cordage, swarthy fishing-nets,
Anchors of rusty fluke, and boats updrawn,
And built their castles of dissolving sand
To watch them overflow'd, or following up
And flying the white breaker, daily left
The little footprint daily wash'd away.

A narrow cave ran in beneath the cliff:
In this the children play'd at keeping house.
Enoch was host one day, Philip the next,
While Annie still was mistress; but at times
Enoch would hold possession for a week:
`This is my house and this my little wife.'
`Mine too' said Philip `turn and turn about:'
When, if they quarrell'd, Enoch stronger-made
Was master: then would Philip, his blue eyes
All flooded with the helpless wrath of tears,
Shriek out `I hate you, Enoch,' and at this
The little wife would weep for company,
And pray them not to quarrel for her sake,
And say she would be little wife to both.

But when the dawn of rosy childhood past,
And the new warmth of life's ascending sun
Was felt by either, either fixt his heart
On that one girl; and Enoch spoke his love,
But Philip loved in silence; and the girl
Seem'd kinder unto Philip than to him;
But she loved Enoch; tho' she knew it not,
And would if ask'd deny it. Enoch set
A purpose evermore before his eyes,
To hoard all savings to the uttermost,
To purchase his own boat, and make a home
For Annie: and so prosper'd that at last
A luckier or a bolder fisherman,
A carefuller in peril, did not breathe
For leagues along that breaker-beaten coast
Than Enoch. Likewise had he served a year
On board a merchantman, and made himself
Full sailor; and he thrice had pluck'd a life
From the dread sweep of the down-streaming seas:
And all me look'd upon him favorably:
And ere he touch'd his one-and-twentieth May
He purchased his own boat, and made a home
For Annie, neat and nestlike, halfway up
The narrow street that clamber'd toward the mill.

Then, on a golden autumn eventide,
The younger people making holiday,
With bag and sack and basket, great and small,
Went nutting to the hazels. Philip stay'd
(His father lying sick and needing him)
An hour behind; but as he climb'd the hill,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, saw the pair,
Enoch and Annie, sitting hand-in-hand,
His large gray eyes and weather-beaten face
All-kindled by a still and sacred fire,
That burn'd as on an altar. Philip look'd,
And in their eyes and faces read his doom;
Then, as their faces drew together, groan'd,
And slipt aside, and like a wounded life
Crept down into the hollows of the wood;
There, while the rest were loud in merrymaking,
Had his dark hour unseen, and rose and past
Bearing a lifelong hunger in his heart.

So these were wed, and merrily rang the bells,
And merrily ran the years, seven happy years,
Seven happy years of health and competence,
And mutual love and honorable toil;
With children; first a daughter. In him woke,
With his first babe's first cry, the noble wish
To save all earnings to the uttermost,
And give his child a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or hers; a wish renew'd,
When two years after came a boy to be
The rosy idol of her solitudes,
While Enoch was abroad on wrathful seas,
Or often journeying landward; for in truth
Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil
In ocean-smelling osier, and his face,
Rough-redden'd with a thousand winter gales,
Not only to the market-cross were known,
But in the leafy lanes behind the down,
Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp,
And peacock-yewtree of the lonely Hall,
Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering.

Then came a change, as all things human change.
Ten miles to northward of the narrow port
Open'd a larger haven: thither used
Enoch at times to go by land or sea;
And once when there, and clambering on a mast
In harbor, by mischance he slipt and fell:
A limb was broken when they lifted him;
And while he lay recovering there, his wife
Bore him another son, a sickly one:
Another hand crept too across his trade
Taking her bread and theirs: and on him fell,
Altho' a grave and staid God-fearing man,
Yet lying thus inactive, doubt and gloom.
He seem'd, as in a nightmare of the night,
To see his children leading evermore
Low miserable lives of hand-to-mouth,
And her, he loved, a beggar: then he pray'd
`Save them from this, whatever comes to me.'
And while he pray'd, the master of that ship
Enoch had served in, hearing his mischance,
Came, for he knew the man and valued him,
Reporting of his vessel China-bound,
And wanting yet a boatswain. Would he go?
There yet were many weeks before she sail'd,
Sail'd from this port. Would Enoch have the place?
And Enoch all at once assented to it,
Rejoicing at that answer to his prayer.

So now that the shadow of mischance appear'd
No graver than as when some little cloud
Cuts off the fiery highway of the sun,
And isles a light in the offing: yet the wife--
When he was gone--the children--what to do?
Then Enoch lay long-pondering on his plans;
To sell the boat--and yet he loved her well--
How many a rough sea had he weather'd in her!
He knew her, as a horseman knows his horse--
And yet to sell her--then with what she brought
Buy goods and stores--set Annie forth in trade
With all that seamen needed or their wives--
So might she keep the house while he was gone.
Should he not trade himself out yonder? go
This voyage more than once? yea twice or thrice--
As oft as needed--last, returning rich,
Become the master of a larger craft,
With fuller profits lead an easier life,
Have all his pretty young ones educated,
And pass his days in peace among his own.

Thus Enoch in his heart determined all:
Then moving homeward came on Annie pale,
Nursing the sickly babe, her latest-born.
Forward she started with a happy cry,
And laid the feeble infant in his arms;
Whom Enoch took, and handled all his limbs,
Appraised his weight and fondled fatherlike,
But had no heart to break his purposes
To Annie, till the morrow, when he spoke.

Then first since Enoch's golden ring had girt
Her finger, Annie fought against his will:
Yet not with brawling opposition she,
But manifold entreaties, many a tear,
Many a sad kiss by day and night renew'd
(Sure that all evil would come out of it)
Besought him, supplicating, if he cared
For here or his dear children, not to go.
He not for his own self caring but her,
Her and her children, let her plead in vain;
So grieving held his will, and bore it thro'.

For Enoch parted with his old sea-friend,
Bought Annie goods and stores, and set his hand
To fit their little streetward sitting-room
With shelf and corner for the goods and stores.
So all day long till Enoch's last at home,
Shaking their pretty cabin, hammer and axe,
Auger and saw, while Annie seem'd to hear
Her own death-scaffold raising, shrill'd and rang,
Till this was ended, and his careful hand,--
The space was narrow,--having order'd all
Almost as neat and close as Nature packs
Her blossom or her seedling, paused; and he,
Who needs would work for Annie to the last,
Ascending tired, heavily slept till morn.

And Enoch faced this morning of farewell
Brightly and boldly. All his Annie's fears,
Save, as his Annie's, were a laughter to him.
Yet Enoch as a brave God-fearing man
Bow'd himself down, and in that mystery
Where God-in-man is one with man-in-God,
Pray'd for a blessing on his wife and babes
Whatever came to him: and then he said
`Annie, this voyage by the grace of God
Will bring fair weather yet to all of us.
Keep a clean hearth and a clear fire for me,
For I'll be back, my girl, before you know it.'
Then lightly rocking baby's cradle `and he,
This pretty, puny, weakly little one,--
Nay--for I love him all the better for it--
God bless him, he shall sit upon my knees
And I will tell him tales of foreign parts,
And make him merry, when I come home again.
Come Annie, come, cheer up before I go.'

Him running on thus hopefully she heard,
And almost hoped herself; but when he turn'd
The current of his talk to graver things
In sailor fashion roughly sermonizing
On providence and trust in Heaven, she heard,
Heard and not heard him; as the village girl,
Who sets her pitcher underneath the spring,
Musing on him that used to fill it for her,
Hears and not hears, and lets it overflow.

At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'

`Well then,' said Enoch, `I shall look on yours.
Annie, the ship I sail in passes here
(He named the day) get you a seaman's glass,
Spy out my face, and laugh at all your fears.'

But when the last of those last moments came,
`Annie my girl, cheer up, be comforted,
Look to the babes, and till I come again,
Keep everything shipshape, for I must go.
And fear no more for me; or if you fear
Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds.
Is He not yonder in those uttermost
Parts of the morning? if I flee to these
Can I go from Him? and the sea is His,
The sea is His: He made it.'

Enoch rose,
Cast his strong arms about his drooping wife,
And kiss'd his wonder-stricken little ones;
But for the third, sickly one, who slept
After a night of feverous wakefulness,
When Annie would have raised him Enoch said
`Wake him not; let him sleep; how should this child
Remember this?' and kiss'ed him in his cot.
But Annie from her baby's forehead clipt
A tiny curl, and gave it: this he kept
Thro' all his future; but now hastily caught
His bundle, waved his hand, and went his way.

She when the day, that Enoch mention'd, came,
Borrow'd a glass, but all in vain: perhaps
She could not fix the glass to suit her eye;
Perhaps her eye was dim, hand tremulous;
She saw him not: and while he stood on deck
Waving, the moment and the vessel past.

Ev'n to the last dip of the vanishing sail
She watch'd it, and departed weeping for him;
Then, tho' she mourn'd his absence as his grave,
Set her sad will no less to chime with his,
But throve not in her trade, not being bred
To barter, nor compensating the want
By shrewdness, neither capable of lies,
Nor asking overmuch and taking less,
And still foreboding `what would Enoch say?'
For more than once, in days of difficulty
And pressure, had she sold her wares for less
Than what she gave in buying what she sold:
She fail'd and sadden'd knowing it; and thus,
Expectant of that news that never came,
Gain'd for here own a scanty sustenance,
And lived a life of silent melancholy.

Now the third child was sickly-born and grew
Yet sicklier, tho' the mother cared for it
With all a mother's care: nevertheless,
Whether her business often call'd her from it,
Or thro' the want of what it needed most,
Or means to pay the voice who best could tell
What most it needed--howsoe'er it was,
After a lingering,--ere she was aware,--
Like the caged bird escaping suddenly,
The little innocent soul flitted away.

In that same week when Annie buried it,
Philip's true heart, which hunger'd for her peace
(Since Enoch left he had not look'd upon her),
Smote him, as having kept aloof so long.
`Surely' said Philip `I may see her now,
May be some little comfort;' therefore went,
Past thro' the solitary room in front,
Paused for a moment at an inner door,
Then struck it thrice, and, no one opening,
Enter'd; but Annie, seated with her grief,
Fresh from the burial of her little one,
Cared not to look on any human face,
But turn'd her own toward the wall and wept.
Then Philip standing up said falteringly
`Annie, I came to ask a favor of you.'

He spoke; the passion in her moan'd reply
`Favor from one so sad and so forlorn
As I am!' half abash'd him; yet unask'd,
His bashfulness and tenderness at war,
He set himself beside her, saying to her:

`I came to speak to you of what he wish'd,
Enoch, your husband: I have ever said
You chose the best among us--a strong man:
For where he fixt his heart he set his hand
To do the thing he will'd, and bore it thro'.
And wherefore did he go this weary way,
And leave you lonely? not to see the world--
For pleasure?--nay, but for the wherewithal
To give his babes a better bringing-up
Than his had been, or yours: that was his wish.
And if he come again, vext will he be
To find the precious morning hours were lost.
And it would vex him even in his grave,
If he could know his babes were running wild
Like colts about the waste. So Annie, now--
Have we not known each other all our lives?
I do beseech you by the love you bear
Him and his children not to say me nay--
For, if you will, when Enoch comes again
Why then he shall repay me--if you will,
Annie--for I am rich and well-to-do.
Now let me put the boy and girl to school:
This is the favor that I came to ask.'

Then Annie with her brows against the wall
Answer'd `I cannot look you in the face;
I seem so foolish and so broken down.
When you came in my sorrow broke me down;
And now I think your kindness breaks me down;
But Enoch lives; that is borne in on me:
He will repay you: money can be repaid;
Not kindness such as yours.'

And Philip ask'd
`Then you will let me, Annie?'

There she turn'd,
She rose, and fixt her swimming eyes upon him,
And dwelt a moment on his kindly face,
Then calling down a blessing on his head
Caught at his hand and wrung it passionately,
And past into the little garth beyond.
So lifted up in spirit he moved away.

Then Philip put the boy and girl to school,
And bought them needful books, and everyway,
Like one who does his duty by his own,
Made himself theirs; and tho' for Annie's sake,
Fearing the lazy gossip of the port,
He oft denied his heart his dearest wish,
And seldom crost her threshold, yet he sent
Gifts by the children, garden-herbs and fruit,
The late and early roses from his wall,
Or conies from the down, and now and then,
With some pretext of fineness in the meal
To save the offence of charitable, flour
From his tall mill that whistled on the waste.

But Philip did not fathom Annie's mind:
Scarce could the woman when he came upon her,
Out of full heart and boundless gratitude
Light on a broken word to thank him with.
But Philip was her children's all-in-all;
From distant corners of the street they ran
To greet his hearty welcome heartily;
Lords of his house and of his mill were they;
Worried his passive ear with petty wrongs
Or pleasures, hung upon him, play'd with him
And call'd him Father Philip. Philip gain'd
As Enoch lost; for Enoch seem'd to them
Uncertain as a vision or a dream,
Faint as a figure seen in early dawn
Down at the far end of an avenue,
Going we know not where: and so ten years,
Since Enoch left his hearth and native land,
Fled forward, and no news of Enoch came.

It chanced one evening Annie's children long'd
To go with others, nutting to the wood,
And Annie would go with them; then they begg'd
For Father Philip (as they call'd him) too:
Him, like the working bee in blossom-dust,
Blanch'd with his mill, they found; and saying to him
`Come with us Father Philip' he denied;
But when the children pluck'd at him to go,
He laugh'd, and yielding readily to their wish,
For was not Annie with them? and they went.

But after scaling half the weary down,
Just where the prone edge of the wood began
To feather toward the hollow, all her force
Fail'd her; and sighing `let me rest' she said.
So Philip rested with her well-content;
While all the younger ones with jubilant cries
Broke from their elders, and tumultuously
Down thro' the whitening hazels made a plunge
To the bottom, and dispersed, and beat or broke
The lithe reluctant boughs to tear away
Their tawny clusters, crying to each other
And calling, here and there, about the wood.

But Philip sitting at her side forgot
Her presence, and remember'd one dark hour
Here in this wood, when like a wounded life
He crept into the shadow: at last he said
Lifting his honest forehead `Listen, Annie,
How merry they are down yonder in the wood.'
`Tired, Annie?' for she did not speak a word.
`Tired?' but her face had fall'n upon her hands;
At which, as with a kind anger in him,
`The ship was lost' he said `the ship was lost!
No more of that! why should you kill yourself
And make them orphans quite?' And Annie said
`I thought not of it: but--I known not why--
Their voices make me feel so solitary.'

Then Philip coming somewhat closer spoke.
`Annie, there is a thing upon my mind,
And it has been upon my mind so long,
That tho' I know not when it first came there,
I know that it will out at last. O Annie,
It is beyond all hope, against all chance,
That he who left you ten long years ago
Should still be living; well then--let me speak:
I grieve to see you poor and wanting help:
I cannot help you as I wish to do
Unless--they say that women are so quick--
Perhaps you know what I would have you know--
I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove
A father to your children: I do think
They love me as a father: I am sure
That I love them as if they were mine own;
And I believe, if you were fast my wife,
That after all these sad uncertain years,
We might be still as happy as God grants
To any of His creatures. Think upon it:
For I am well-to-do--no kin, no care,
No burthen, save my care for you and yours:
And we have known each other all our lives,
And I have loved you longer than you know.'

Then answer'd Annie; tenderly she spoke:
`You have been as God's good angel in our house.
God bless you for it, God reward you for it,
Philip, with something happier than myself.
Can one live twice? can you be ever loved
As Enoch was? what is it that you ask?'
`I am content' he answer'd `to be loved
A little after Enoch.' `O' she cried
Scared as it were `dear Philip, wait a while:
If Enoch comes--but Enoch will not come--
Yet wait a year, a year is not so long:
Surely I shall be wiser in a year:
O wait a little!' Philip sadly said
`Annie, as I have waited all my life
I well may wait a little.' `Nay' she cried
`I am bound: you have my promise--in a year:
Will you not bide your year as I bide mine?'
And Philip answer'd `I will bide my year.'

Here both were mute, till Philip glancing up
Beheld the dead flame of the fallen day
Pass from the Danish barrow overhead;
Then fearing night and chill for Annie rose,
And sent his voice beneath him thro' the wood.
Up came the children laden with their spoil;
Then all descended to the port, and there
At Annie's door he paused and gave his hand,
Saying gently `Annie, when I spoke to you,
That was your hour of weakness. I was wrong.
I am always bound to you, but you are free.'
Then Annie weeping answer'd `I am bound.'

She spoke; and in one moment as it were,
While yet she went about her household ways,
Ev'n as she dwelt upon his latest words,
That he had loved her longer than she knew,
That autumn into autumn flash'd again,
And there he stood once more before her face,
Claiming her promise. `Is it a year?' she ask'd.
`Yes, if the nuts' he said `be ripe again:
Come out and see.' But she--she put him off--
So much to look to--such a change--a month--
Give her a month--she knew that she was bound--
A month--no more. Then Philip with his eyes
Full of that lifelong hunger, and his voice
Shaking a little like a drunkard's hand,
`Take your own time, Annie, take your own time.'
And Annie could have wept for pity of him;
And yet she held him on delayingly
With many a scarce-believable excuse,
Trying his truth and his long-sufferance,
Till half-another year had slipt away.

By this the lazy gossips of the port,
Abhorrent of a calculation crost,
Began to chafe as at a personal wrong.
Some thought that Philip did but trifle with her;
Some that she but held off to draw him on;
And others laugh'd at her and Philip too,
As simple folks that knew not their own minds;
And one, in whom all evil fancies clung
Like serpent eggs together, laughingly
Would hint a worse in either. Her own son
Was silent, tho' he often look'd his wish;
But evermore the daughter prest upon her
To wed the man so dear to all of them
And lift the household out of poverty;
And Philip's rosy face contracting grew
Careworn and wan; and all these things fell on her
Sharp as reproach.

At last one night it chanced
That Annie could not sleep, but earnestly
Pray'd for a sign `my Enoch is he gone?'
Then compass'd round by the blind wall of night
Brook'd not the expectant terror of her heart,
Started from bed, and struck herself a light,
Then desperately seized the holy Book,
Suddenly set it wide to find a sign,
Suddenly put her finger on the text,
`Under a palmtree.' That was nothing to her:
No meaning there: she closed the book and slept:
When lo! her Enoch sitting on a height,
Under a palmtree, over him the Sun:
`He is gone' she thought `he is happy, he is singing
Hosanna in the highest: yonder shines
The Sun of Righteousness, and these be palms
Whereof the happy people strowing cried
"Hosanna in the highest!"' Here she woke,
Resolved, sent for him and said wildly to him
`There is no reason why we should not wed.'
`Then for God's sake,' he answer'd, `both our sakes,
So you will wed me, let it be at once.'

So these were wed and merrily rang the bells,
Merrily rang the bells and they were wed.
But never merrily beat Annie's heart.
A footstep seem'd to fall beside her path,
She knew not whence; a whisper in her ear,
She knew not what; nor loved she to be left
Alone at home, nor ventured out alone.
What ail'd her then, that ere she enter'd, often
Her hand dwelt lingeringly on the latch,
Fearing to enter: Philip thought he knew:
Such doubts and fears were common to her state,
Being with child: but when her child was born,
Then her new child was as herself renew'd,
Then the new mother came about her heart,
Then her good Philip was her all-in-all,
And that mysterious instinct wholly died.

And where was Enoch? prosperously sail'd
The ship `Good Fortune,' tho' at setting forth
The Biscay, roughly ridging eastward, shook
And almost overwhelm'd her, yet unvext
She slipt across the summer of the world,
Then after a long tumble about the Cape
And frequent interchange of foul and fair,
She passing thro' the summer world again,
The breath of heaven came continually
And sent her sweetly by the golden isles,
Till silent in her oriental haven.

There Enoch traded for himself, and bought
Quaint monsters for the market of those times,
A gilded dragon, also, for the babes.

Less lucky her home-voyage: at first indeed
Thro' many a fair sea-circle, day by day,
Scarce-rocking, her full-busted figure-head
Stared o'er the ripple feathering from her bows:
Then follow'd calms, and then winds variable,
Then baffling, a long course of them; and last
Storm, such as drove her under moonless heavens
Till hard upon the cry of `breakers' came
The crash of ruin, and the loss of all
But Enoch and two others. Half the night,
Buoy'd upon floating tackle and broken spars,
These drifted, stranding on an isle at morn
Rich, but loneliest in a lonely sea.

No want was there of human sustenance,
Soft fruitage, mighty nuts, and nourishing roots;
Nor save for pity was it hard to take
The helpless life so wild that it was tame.
There in a seaward-gazing mountain-gorge
They built, and thatch'd with leaves of palm, a hut,
Half hut, half native cavern. So the three,
Set in this Eden of all plenteousness,
Dwelt with eternal summer, ill-content.

For one, the youngest, hardly more than boy,
Hurt in that night of sudden ruin and wreck,
Lay lingering out a three-years' death-in-life.
They could not leave him. After he was gone,
The two remaining found a fallen stem;
And Enoch's comrade, careless of himself,
Fire-hollowing this in Indian fashion, fell
Sun-stricken, and that other lived alone.
In those two deaths he read God's warning `wait.'

The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawns
And winding glades high up like ways to Heaven,
The slender coco's drooping crown of plumes,
The lightning flash of insect and of bird,
The lustre of the long convolvuluses
That coil'd around the stately stems, and ran
Ev'n to the limit of the land, the glows
And glories of the broad belt of the world,
All these he saw; but what he fain had seen
He could not see, the kindly human face,
Nor ever hear a kindly voice, but heard
The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl,
The league-long roller thundering on the reef,
The moving whisper of huge trees that branch'd
And blossom'd in the zenith, or the sweep
Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave,
As down the shore he ranged, or all day long
Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge,
A shipwreck'd sailor, waiting for a sail:
No sail from day to day, but every day
The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts
Among the palms and ferns and precipices;
The blaze upon the waters to the east;
The blaze upon his island overhead;
The blaze upon the waters to the west;
Then the great stars that globed themselves in Heaven,
The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again
The scarlet shafts of sunrise--but no sail.

There often as he watch'd or seem'd to watch,
So still, the golden lizard on him paused,
A phantom made of many phantoms moved
Before him haunting him, or he himself
Moved haunting people, things and places, known
Far in a darker isle beyond the line;
The babes, their babble, Annie, the small house,
The climbing street, the mill, the leafy lanes,
The peacock-yewtree and the lonely Hall,
The horse he drove, the boat he sold, the chill
November dawns and dewy-glooming downs,
The gentle shower, the smell of dying leaves,
And the low moan of leaden-color'd seas.

Once likewise, in the ringing of his ears,
Tho' faintly, merrily--far and far away--
He heard the pealing of his parish bells;
Then, tho' he knew not wherefore, started up
Shuddering, and when the beauteous hateful isle
Return'd upon him, had not his poor heart
Spoken with That, which being everywhere
Lets none, who speaks with Him, seem all alone,
Surely the man had died of solitude.

Thus over Enoch's early-silvering head
The sunny and rainy seasons came and went
Year after year. His hopes to see his own,
And pace the sacred old familiar fields,
Not yet had perish'd, when his lonely doom
Came suddenly to an end. Another ship
(She wanted water) blown by baffling winds,
Like the Good Fortune, from her destined course,
Stay'd by this isle, not knowing where she lay:
For since the mate had seen at early dawn
Across a break on the mist-wreathen isle
The silent water slipping from the hills,
They sent a crew that landing burst away
In search of stream or fount, and fill'd the shores
With clamor. Downward from his mountain gorge
Stept the long-hair'd long-bearded solitary,
Brown, looking hardly human, strangely clad,
Muttering and mumbling, idiotlike it seem'd,
With inarticulate rage, and making signs
They knew not what: and yet he led the way
To where the rivulets of sweet water ran;
And ever as he mingled with the crew,
And heard them talking, his long-bounden tongue
Was loosen'd, till he made them understand;
Whom, when their casks were fill'd they took aboard:
And there the tale he utter'd brokenly,
Scarce credited at first but more and more,
Amazed and melted all who listen'd to it:
And clothes they gave him and free passage home;
But oft he work'd among the rest and shook
His isolation from him. None of these
Came from his county, or could answer him,
If question'd, aught of what he cared to know.
And dull the voyage was with long delays,
The vessel scarce sea-worthy; but evermore
His fancy fled before the lazy wind
Returning, till beneath a clouded moon
He like a lover down thro' all his blood
Drew in the dewy meadowy morning-breath
Of England, blown across her ghostly wall:
And that same morning officers and men
Levied a kindly tax upon themselves,
Pitying the lonely man, and gave him it:
Then moving up the coast they landed him,
Ev'n in that harbor whence he sail'd before.

There Enoch spoke no word to anyone,
But homeward--home--what home? had he a home?
His home, he walk'd. Bright was that afternoon,
Sunny but chill; till drawn thro' either chasm,
Where either haven open'd on the deeps,
Roll'd a sea-haze and whelm'd the world in gray;
Cut off the length of highway on before,
And left but narrow breadth to left and right
Of wither'd holt or tilth or pasturage.
On the nigh-naked tree the Robin piped
Disconsolate, and thro' the dripping haze
The dead weight of the dead leaf bore it down.
Thicker the drizzle grew, deeper the gloom;
Last, as it seem'd, a great mist-blotted light
Flared on him, and he came upon the place.

Then down the long street having slowly stolen,
His heart foreshadowing all calamity,
His eyes upon the stones, he reach'd the home
Where Annie lived and loved him, and his babes
In those far-off seven happy years were born;
But finding neither light nor murmur there
(A bill of sale gleam'd thro' the drizzle) crept
Still downward thinking `dead or dead to me!'

Down to the pool and narrow wharf he went,
Seeking a tavern which of old he knew,
A front of timber-crost antiquity,
So propt, worm-eaten, ruinously old,
He thought it must have gone; but he was gone
Who kept it; and his widow, Miriam Lane,
With daily-dwindling profits held the house;
A haunt of brawling seamen once, but now
Stiller, with yet a bed for wandering men.
There Enoch rested silently many days.

But Miriam Lane was good and garrulous,
Nor let him be, but often breaking in,
Told him, with other annals of the port,
Not knowing--Enoch was so brown, so bow'd,
So broken--all the story of his house.
His baby's death, her growing poverty,
How Philip put her little ones to school,
And kept them in it, his long wooing her,
Her slow consent, and marriage, and the birth
Of Philip's child: and o'er his countenance
No shadow past, nor motion: anyone,
Regarding, well had deem'd he felt the tale
Less than the teller: only when she closed
`Enoch, poor man, was cast away and lost'
He, shaking his gray head pathetically,
Repeated muttering `cast away and lost;'
Again in deeper inward whispers `lost!'

But Enoch yearn'd to see her face again;
`If I might look on her sweet face gain
And know that she is happy.' So the thought
Haunted and harass'd him, and drove him forth,
At evening when the dull November day
Was growing duller twilight, to the hill.
There he sat down gazing on all below;
There did a thousand memories roll upon him,
Unspeakable for sadness. By and by
The ruddy square of comfortable light,
Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house,
Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures
The bird of passage, till he madly strikes
Against it, and beats out his weary life.

For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street,
The latest house to landward; but behind,
With one small gate that open'd on the waste,
Flourish'd a little garden square and wall'd:
And in it throve an ancient evergreen,
A yewtree, and all round it ran a walk
Of shingle, and a walk divided it:
But Enoch shunn'd the middle walk and stole
Up by the wall, behind the yew; and thence
That which he better might have shunn'd, if griefs
Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw.

For cups and silver on the burnish'd board
Sparkled and shone; so genial was the hearth:
And on the right hand of the hearth he saw
Philip, the slighted suitor of old times,
Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees;
And o'er her second father stoopt a girl,
A later but a loftier Annie Lee,
Fair-hair'd and tall, and from her lifted hand
Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring
To tempt the babe, who rear'd his creasy arms,
Caught at and ever miss'd it, and they laugh'd:
And on the left hand of the hearth he saw
The mother glancing often toward her babe,
But turning now and then to speak with him,
Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong,
And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled.

Now when the dead man come to life beheld
His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe
Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee,
And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness,
And his own children tall and beautiful,
And him, that other, reigning in his place,
Lord of his rights and of his children's love,--
Then he, tho' Miriam Lane had told him all,
Because things seen are mightier than things heard,
Stagger'd and shook, holding the branch, and fear'd
To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry,
Which in one moment, like the blast of doom,
Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth.

He therefore turning softly like a thief,
Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the garden-wall,
Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found,
Crept to the gate, and open'd it, and closed,
As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door,
Behind him, and came out upon the waste.

And there he would have knelt, but that his knees
Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug
His fingers into the wet earth, and pray'd.

`Too hard to bear! why did they take me hence?
O God Almighty, blessed Saviour, Thou
That didst uphold me on my lonely isle,
Uphold me, Father, in my loneliness
A little longer! aid me, give me strength
Not to tell her, never to let her know.
Help me no to break in upon her peace.
My children too! must I not speak to these?
They know me not. I should betray myself.
Never: not father's kiss for me--the girl
So like her mother, and the boy, my son.'

There speech and thought and nature fail'd a little,
And he lay tranced; but when he rose and paced
Back toward his solitary home again,
All down the long and narrow street he went
Beating it in upon his weary brain,
As tho' it were the burthen of a song,
`Not to tell her, never to let her know.'

He was not all unhappy. His resolve
Upbore him, and firm faith, and evermore
Prayer from a living source within the will,
And beating up thro' all the bitter world,
Like fountains of sweet water in the sea,
Kept him a living soul. `This miller's wife'
He said to Miriam `that you told me of,
Has she no fear that her first husband lives?'
`Ay ay, poor soul' said Miriam, `fear enow!
If you could tell her you had seen him dead,
Why, that would be her comfort;' and he thought
`After the Lord has call'd me she shall know,
I wait His time' and Enoch set himself,
Scorning an alms, to work whereby to live.
Almost to all things could he turn his hand.
Cooper he was and carpenter, and wrought
To make the boatmen fishing-nets, or help'd
At lading and unlading the tall barks,
That brought the stinted commerce of those days;
Thus earn'd a scanty living for himself:
Yet since he did but labor for himself,
Work without hope, there was not life in it
Whereby the man could live; and as the year
Roll'd itself round again to meet the day
When Enoch had return'd, a languor came
Upon him, gentle sickness, gradually
Weakening the man, till he could do no more,
But kept the house, his chair, and last his bed.
And Enoch bore his weakness cheerfully.
For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck
See thro' the gray skirts of a lifting squall
The boat that bears the hope of life approach
To save the life despair'd of, than he saw
Death dawning on him, and the close of all.

For thro' that dawning gleam'd a kindlier hope
On Enoch thinking `after I am gone,
Then may she learn I loved her to the last.'
He call'd aloud for Miriam Lane and said
`Woman, I have a secret--only swear,
Before I tell you--swear upon the book
Not to reveal it, till you see me dead.'
`Dead' clamor'd the good woman `hear him talk!
I warrant, man, that we shall bring you round.'
`Swear' add Enoch sternly `on the book.'
And on the book, half-frighted, Miriam swore.
Then Enoch rolling his gray eyes upon her,
`Did you know Enoch Arden of this town?'
`Know him?' she said `I knew him far away.
Ay, ay, I mind him coming down the street;
Held his head high, and cared for no man, he.'
Slowly and sadly Enoch answer'd her;
`His head is low, and no man cares for him.
I think I have not three days more to live;
I am the man.' At which the woman gave
A half-incredulous, half-hysterical cry.
`You Arden, you! nay,--sure he was a foot
Higher than you be.' Enoch said again
`My God has bow'd me down to what I am;
My grief and solitude have broken me;
Nevertheless, know that I am he
Who married--but that name has twice been changed--
I married her who married Philip Ray.
Sit, listen.' Then he told her of his voyage,
His wreck, his lonely life, his coming back,
His gazing in on Annie, his resolve,
And how he kept it. As the woman heard,
Fast flow'd the current of her easy tears,
While in her heart she yearn'd incessantly
To rush abroad all round the little haven,
Proclaiming Enoch Arden and his woes;
But awed and promise-bounded she forbore,
Saying only `See your bairns before you go!
Eh, let me fetch 'em, Arden,' and arose
Eager to bring them down, for Enoch hung
A moment on her words, but then replied.

`Woman, disturb me not now at the last,
But let me hold my purpose till I die.
Sit down again; mark me and understand,
While I have power to speak. I charge you now,
When you shall see her, tell her that I died
Blessing her, praying for her, loving her;
Save for the bar between us, loving her
As when she laid her head beside my own.
And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
So like her mother, that my latest breath
Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.
And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blest him too;
He never meant us any thing but good.
But if my children care to see me dead,
Who hardly saw me living, let them come,
I am their father; but she must not come,
For my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my blood,
Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,
And I have borne it with me all these years,
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:
It will moreover be a token to her,
That I am he.'

He ceased; and Miriam Lane
Made such a voluble answer promising all,
That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
Repeating all he wish'd, and once again
She promised.

Then the third night after this,
While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
There came so loud a calling of the sea,
That all the houses in the haven rang.
He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad
Crying with a loud voice `a sail! a sail!
I am saved'; and so fell back and spoke no more.

So past the strong heroic soul away.
And when they buried him the little port
Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.

David Shepherd Passes Away

Silently, like a calm but free-flowing stream, Shepherd passed away yesterday. He was fighting cancer and finally succuumbed. But he shall remain immortal in the cricketing world.

I mentioned a stream because that's how he was. Always calm, never taking any hasty decision, never encouraged poor sportsmanship and was a nice human being. He was one of the most honest umpires that we have ever had, Dickie Bird being the other one. His decisions have never been partial to anybody because he respected the game more than the entertainment value in it.

He will also be remembered for hopping on the field when the scoreboard read 111 or 222 or 333 etc. That was one of his superstitions that wickets tend to fall on such scores, and he was proven right quite a few times. Also, he never got into a conversation, forget having an argument,  with any player, thereby maintaining his own dignity and that of the game.

He was always in high spirit and had the rare capability of making even a test-match interesting to watch. Whenever the camera panned on him, he was there with a beaming smile and a sweet gesture. His attitude and the sporting spirit that he maintained, will never be forgotten. He was a great ambassador of the game. My salutations to the great man.

London Dreams : Khuli Ankh Ka Sapna

The dope is that the premise of the movie is based on Abhimaan, except that instead of a couple we have two friends. Ajay and Sallu are both friends in different parts of the world. While Ajay, just as BigB, is popular in London as a singer of a band, Sallu plays at weddings in his hometown. But Sallu, just as Jaya Bachchan, was much more talented than Ajay.

And Ajay makes the mistake of inviting Salman to join his band. What happens next? Salman is an instant hit and a crowd puller; and nobody wants Ajay anymore. Ajay is consumed by this jealousy and big ego hurdle. He plans a vice to cut down Salman's grwoing stature. He pushes Salman into hedonistic liefstyle with booze and babes, just before a crucial concert.

While the troop movies from Paris to Amsterdam and other places, Salman slides further into this couldron of sleaze. Will he recover? Even if he does, will Ajay realise his follies? Will Salman forgive Ajay and will their friendship hold them together?

That's what the movie is about. Oh! I missed out on Asin. She is the lead dancer of the band. Ajay loves her, but she falls for the rural innocence of Salman Khan. That adds to Ajay's woes, first Sallu steals his limelight and then his ladlylove. So, who finally wins over Asin!

nice songs from recent music releases

I have not had the time to write about the recent music albums, just so tied up with work. But I did find enough time to listen to the songs of Blue, Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani, Aladin, Tum Mile and Main Aur Mrs Khanna. I tried listening to Jail and All The Best, but just couldn't finish with them. They were so darn boring.
Anyways, my favourite song these days are Chiggy Wiggy and Yaar Mila Tha from Blue. There is something weird about the Chiggy Wiggy number, I just can't stop listening to it. It has a great start, fantastic vocals by Kylie Minogue and a superb bhangra twist by Sonu Nigam. The rhythm is just right to set your mood, fine stuff. Rahman sounds truly international with the opening 2 mins of the song and then does a bhangra fusion. The lyrics are dumb, but I can do with that as long as I enjoy the music. Whats with this:

Khaatoon ki khidmat mei khiladi ki hai khwahish ... eeks!

Yaar Mila Tha is another modern fusion of rural/folksy sounding lyrics orchaestrated to genX music, much like Gendaphool in Delhi-6. The lyrics sound a bit chauvanistic, but I am sure they have been tagged to a pre-created rhythm. And the background chorus makes this song really work, infuse energy into this rustic number while Udit Narayan and Madhusree do total justice to the song.

Two other good songs in album were Rehnuma and Fiqraana. I am unable to follow the lyrics of Fiqraana, too damn difficult. But I love listening to it. Shreya Ghoshal sounds really sweet.





Moving onto APKGK. It has a racy start with Main Tera Dhadkan Teri .... Ab Bacha Kya sung by KK. This is the most catchy of the 14 songs in the album. I don't really like the beginning piece by Hard Kaur, that actually works against the song, but the moment KK's vocals get into the musical notes, a new life is infused to this song. 5 of the 14 tracks are remixes, total waste.

Kaise Batayen song is so jaded, sounds like a bhajan. And then Atif Aslam gets into action, Pritam's favourite. The song is just about tolerable. Another Pritam favourite Neeraj Sridhar croons Prem Ki Naiyya and sings about it being Ram Ke Bharose. That's all I can recall from this album, rest are just boring stuff.

Talking about boring stuff, I expected so much from Vishal Shekhar but they let me down with the music of Aladin. The genie rap is such a gimmick, trying to cash-in on Bachchan's voice but the lyrics are a terrible let-down ... aladin...tera bheja hai khali !

O Re Sawariya is another bad song. The only saving grace of the album is the song You Are The One.

You may be
Just a lil bit deewani
Thodi thodi si crazy
but baby you're the one

Tum jaise hai na koi yun deewani
Thodi thodi si crazy
But baby you're the one



Vishal Dadlani has written the lyrics himself and both Vishal and Shekhar have rendered the song. They probably did not want to give away this song to anybody else. Nice song this!

Another musical duo, Sajid Wajid, have composed for Main Aur Mrs Khanna. SW feature in most of Sallu's home production movies, so also this. But as usual, except for a couple of songs they lack consistency in quality. Don't Say Alvida is a hummable song, melodiously sung by Sonu and Shreya. Another widely unpublicised song that is sung by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan is Rabba Hai Rabba. This is one of the better songs from the movie, in an otherwise dull album.

Finally coming to Emraan Hashmi's movie Tum Mile, this has some rather disappointing songs. Emraan is known more for his songs than the movie itself, but that's not the case here. For once, the songs are lack-lustre and did not interest me at all. Except for Tu Hi Haqeeqat and Dil Ibaadat, rest of the song is mediocre. Pritam hasn't given some uninspiring music. Expected a lot more from him after Love Aaj Kal. By the way, Kurbaan music is just out. Hope it turns out to be good.

Kamal Rashid Khan : Son Of A Gun

No, I am not referring to the gun locket that hangs around his neck. I am really pissed off by this guy who comes with loads of attitude. Wonder where he got that kind of arrogance and the delusions of being a star.

Anyone watching Big Boss 3 will recognise this stubborn cranky man as the main attraction/distraction of the reality show. He is foul-mouthed and short-tempered and his tall claims would leave the biggest of braggers to shame. He claims that his drinking water comes from France and milk from Holland, what hogwash! He claims to be a multi-millionaire but his comfort level in the confines of Big Boss jail was admirable. He felt so much at home in the jail, he just rolled on the raised platform like a dog rolls on the ground.

But what I found most disconcerting was the fact that he was bullshitting in front of BigB, one of the most humble men on Earth. He felt no regret about his outburst on Rohit Verma and his brutal attack on fellow inmate, he definitely needs some therapy. He also had a war of words with Raju Shrivastav, a guy who usually is cool and composed, but noth this time. Raju gave it back to KRK which he could not handle. Even on previous occasions he misbehaved with other inmates like Claudia and Tanaz.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poe3p9P_lp8&hl=en&fs=1&]

What was worse was that, he was justifying himself in the eviction episode. He was showing as if he made a sacrifice for Sherlyn Chopra. He was the most-hated character in the house, he did not perform any task and he had a bad attitude. No wonder all housemates voted him out last week. But the rising TRPs lured the producers in duping the voting public and retained him for another week, hoping that he would reform. Yeah! jerks like these never change. He just kept revealing his character flaws one after another.

The truth is that, he came to Big Boss home only to create ruckus and generate some publicity for himself. He was successful initially, in grabbing eyeballs. But later we all realised that he is not just putting up an act, he is truly full of shit. I even doubt he has a fan base that he keeps bragging about. Anyways, good riddance to bad rubbish.

Much to BigB's credit, he played the tolerant and forgiving father so well. Long live BigB and goto hell KRK!

upcoming bollywood releases ...

Release Date: Jan'2010


Release Date: Jan'2010


Release Date: 25 Dec'2010


Release Date: 06 Nov'2010


Release Date: Dec'2010


Release Date: Jan'2010

poem : the ant and the cricket

A silly young cricket, accustomed to sing
Through the warm, sunny months of gay summer and spring,
Began to complain, when he found that at home
His cupboard was empty and winter was come.

Not a crumb to be found
On the snow-covered ground;
Not a flower could he see,
Not a leaf on a tree.

“Oh, what will become,” says the cricket, “of me?”
At last by starvation and famine made bold,
All dripping with wet and all trembling with cold,
Away he set off to a miserly ant
To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant

Him shelter from rain.
A mouthful of grain
He wished only to borrow,
He’d repay it to-morrow;
If not helped, he must die of starvation and sorrow.










Says the ant to the cricket: “I’m your servant and friend,
But we ants never borrow, we ants never lend.
Pray tell me, dear sir, did you lay nothing by
When the weather was warm?” Said the cricket, “Not I.
My heart was so light
That I sang day and night,
For all nature looked gay.”
“You sang, sir, you say?
Go then,” said the ant, “and sing winter away.”

Thus ending, he hastily lifted the wicket
And out of the door turned the poor little cricket.
Though this is a fable, the moral is good—
If you live without work, you must live without food.

movies that released this diwali

this diwali has seen the release of 3 big movies, but all 3 are kinda duds. none of them have generated enough interest in me and i think i will be skipping all of them.

i actually did want to watch blue, especially because it had sanjay dutt and akshay kumar together, but the reviews have really not been good at all. sample this:

Blue, directed by Anthony D'souza is a brainless, forgettable action-thriller that quickly sinks without a trace. Let me say this right away: anyone expecting anything other than the sight of Lara Dutta in a skimpy bikini, or indeed Akshay Kumar with his shirt off, is going to be very disappointed.

And here's some more from the same review:

Blue suffers from a dull script and inane dialogue, and is cursed with characters that are as shallow as the waters they paddle.

read the review for yourself, its here.

And here's more about the movie from another review:

The plot is supposed to be full of clever twists and turns, but is nothing but preposterous. It is meant to be a razor-sharp adrenaline inducer, but throughout the nearly two-hour film you get the feeling as if you are watching an extended music video with snatches of National Geographic footage.

That review can be found here.

Now that blue was out the question, my next bet was all the best. with a starcast like that and rohit shetty directing it, i am sure it will have at least a few laughs. some good words about the movie:

Comedy is a delicate genre. It needs an accurate combination of fresh banter, palpable camaraderie and gauged response. All The Best isn't the perfect recipe for laughter but it sure has its Lever-filled moments.

read that review here.

another review that says that the movie is pretty good is here.

an excerpt from that review is below:

Tucked away beneath those pointless songs and some ridiculous, overblown action scenes is a silly yet surprisingly enjoyable tale of misunderstandings and mistaken identities. Like most Bollywood comedies these days, All The Best is far too long, but it has a winning combination of cleverly crude humour and genuine sweetness.

the weakest movie of the 3 is main aur mrs.khanna. the movie looked like a disaster from the dull trailers. and these words have confirmed my thoughts on the movie:

There are dumb scripts and dumber scripts, but Main Aurr Mrs Khanna has got to be the dumbest. You feel nothing for the film's characters because you cannot understand why they behave the way they do. It's the kind of screenplay in which every obstacle in the characters' lives could be overcome by having one sensible conversation which for some strange reason, they never have.

the full review is here.

i am not sure what i will watch, but i definitely know what to avoid.

Nobel Peace Prize For Obama, But Not Gandhi !!!

In a surprising declaration of Nobel Prizes, the jury has awarded the Nobel Peace Prize to Obama. But the reasons for this award are mysterious. Nobody knows why he has been awarded. In fact, past Nobel Laureates are calling it a farce. So, is the Nobel Prize also priced that anybody who fancies one can purchase it for himself?

Consider this - the day the award is announced[9th Oct] coincides with bombings in Peshawar[Pakistan], and 49 people have been killed. Is it not ironical! The country of US indulgence and favoured nation continues to be tormented by Taliban and fundamentalists. And US is still giving away goodies to Pakistan and calling them an ally and an imporatant one in the fight against terrorism. But Pakistan is the land that is breeding terrorism!

Moveover, Iraq is still scarred and army has not moved out of it. Iran and North Korea are still on the offensive against US. Afghanistan is still not rid of talibans. Kashmir, Ghaza, Libya and Syria are still surviving under the shadow of the gun. So, where's the peace that is being talked about?

Obama is still not out of his nappy-pads in the world of politics and hardcore peace brokerage and negotiations. What has he been awarded for? This is totally unacceptable and ridiculous. And has brought down the stature of the award, where every shmuck US Prez can  get one for himself, Kissinger included.

The only thing that Obama has done, that is worth of award, is invoking the name of Gandhi. So, the mantra seems, talk Gandhi and you will get one. Another irony here, Dalai Lama spoke and walked the talk on Gandhi, he won; Martin Luther King talked of Gandhian principles, he won; Nelson Mandela was all praise for Gandhi and his philosophy, he won. But Gandhi himself has not won the Nobel Peace Prize.

The reasons for this are multiple, in fact they should be called excuses and not reasons. Gandhi was nominated for Nobel Peace Prize in 1937, 1938, 1939, 1947 and the last time in 1948. He might have finally been awarded in 1948, but for his tragic assassination a few days before the nominations closed. Hence, that year it was not awarded to anybody.

The committee did consider awarding him posthumously but they did not know whom to hand it over to. Gandhi neither belonged to any organisation, nor did he leave behind a will or trustee.

So, Gandhi still seems to be the missing Laureate here.

Coming back to Obama, an unworthy choice for Peace Prize, considering the fact that he has not achieved anything yet and not even for his own country. I am sure Obama will not like to be named amongst the other unworthy winners of this award like Kissinger and Arafat. But, he will have to live with this burden of being adorned with too much, too soon.

Aladin : Make A Wish

There is a lamp, there is Aladin and there is a genie. But that's about it. He has grown up in a very timid, weak not really a nerd but just a weak, timid person in the college. He keeps getting bullied by all his seniors and people who are tougher and stronger than him. So he has always led a very reticent, reclusive, reserve life. Then he sees this girl in college whom he falls in love with at first sight and he needs to communicate with her. But he does not have enough courage and energy. The gang that teases him in college is always teasing him because his name is Aladin. They convince the girl to give a lamp to him as a present all as a joke. It turns out that this lamp is indeed 'the lamp'. He has to rub it in front of them because they are making fun of him. And a man appears who is a genie. He says I am a genie, I have three wishes, I am 5,000 years old, I am due for my retirement and these are last three wishes so would you please hurry up and ask them because I need to get back.

source : ibn

Wake Up Sid, Smell The Coffee!

So, what's wrong with Sid? And why is he still asleep? Isn't there anyone to tell him that morning has long gone and its almost afternoon. Being a night person does not really mean that people get up at dusk!

Ranbir Kapoor as Sid is the right choice. Youthful, exhuberant, curious, romantic, the guy next door etc. But where the screenplay has really gone wrong is in the first half.

A protagonist who insults his mother for no fault of hers, who has no respect for his dad's hardwork can never win the sympathy of the audience. Sid manages to do that in the second half of the movie, but it was too late. It was a foregone conclusion that the script would take such a turn.

What's baffling is the fact that we have a guy in his 20's, who belongs to business family and does not aspire to get into business; let alone his dad's business. What's worse, he meets a girl who wants to go on a walk with him and he doesn't get the idea of sleeping around with her. No kidding, he does not know about the birds and bees. His dad is a tycoon and we don't see girls throwing themselves on him, not even in parties. What kind of retard screenwriting is this?

The director, Ayan Mukherjee,  knows where he wants to go but does not know how to get there. He uses a dozen of cliches and a bunch of cut-paste jobs from movies like Dil Chahta Hai etc, to fill the void in his movie.

One of the cliches being Rahul Khanna, who has been stereotyping himself and last seen in Love Aaj Kal in the same kinda scenes. And the other cliche being Konkona Sen Sharma as Aisha, what's wrong with her? Isn't she tired of playing 'new girl in the city'. Pick any movie and you get that from her, Laga Chunri Mei Daag, Life In A Metro, Luck By Chance etc. She does well in the movie, giving her piece of mind to Sid and helping him in overcoming his oversleep-disorder. Only if his parents had done that... oh! then then we would not have the movie at all.

The director is unable to handle even the two friends that he created, Laxmi and Rishi. Somehow he kept forgetting both of them. And the moment he recalled them he canned a shot  and forget about them again, almost like memory-lag.


The one thing that Ayan has been able to do well was the 'coming-of-age' bit. The romance between Sid and Aisha was handled well, he explored the relationship and helped it blossom. Sid not only wakes up but also finds himself all grown up and mature, albeit a little late. The friendship turning into respect and then love was beautiful, the saving grace of the movie. I sincerely hope that he makes a better movie next time around and does not get carried away by the success of this one.

Anupam Kher and Supriya Pathak as parents were awesome in the movie. Supriya especially was superb as the trying-to-speak-english mom. She emoted so much even without any dialogues, that was touching. Ranbir was awesome, this guy will go places. He acting is improving, it can be seen in the emotional scenes. He did better in this movie than waht he had done in Bachna Ae Haseeno.

Finally, the movie will do well because we have loads of Sids around us who will identify with the movie. Unfortunately, these Sids will go back home after the night show, oversleep the next morning and will continue to be dazed and confused.

Two States : New Book By Chetan Bhagat

Neither is he a great writer nor do I love his books, but the curiosity factor is there. Invariably, all his books do well. It only gives me the impression that people want to read something light, easy and breezy. Nothing too complicated, no conspiracy theory, no big-fat words; just simple plain old English phrases and ordinary stories.

The hype around his books has also increased because of the fact that two of his three books have been adapted on screen. His book One Night At The Call Center was made into Hello which starred Salman Khan, Katrina Kaif, Sohail Khan, Isha and Amrita Arora. And his first book Five Point Someone is being made into 3 Idiots which has Aamir Khan, Madhavan, Sharman Joshi and Kareena Kapoor in it.

That's the only reason that I am interested in his new book titled Two States:The Story Of My Marriage. Here's what the book is about:

Love marriages around the world are simple:

Boy loves girl. Girl loves boy.
They get married.

In India, there are a few more steps:

Boy loves Girl. Girl loves Boy.
Girl's family has to love boy. Boy's family has to love girl.
Girl's Family has to love Boy's Family. Boy's family has to love girl's family.
Girl and Boy still love each other. They get married.

He has also released a few excerpts, read the below:

“Why am I referred here? I don’t have a problem,” I said.
She didn’t react. Just gestured that I remove my shoes and take the couch. She had an office like any other doctor’s, minus the smells and cold, dangerous instruments.
She waited for me to talk more. I hesitated and spoke again.
“I’m sure people come here with big, insurmountable problems. Girlfriends dump their boyfriends everyday. Hardly the reason to see a shrink, right? What am I, a psycho?”
“No, I am the psycho. Psychotherapist to be precise. If you don’t mind, I prefer that to shrink,” she said.
”Sorry,” I said.
“It’s OK,” she said and reclined on her chair. No more than thirty, she seemed young for a shrink, sorry, psychotherapist. Certificates from top US universities adorned the walls like tiger heads in a hunter’s home. Yes, another South Indian had conquered the world of academics. Dr. Neeta Iyer, Valedictorian, Vassar College.
“I charge five hundred rupees per hour,” she said. “Stare at the walls or talk. I’m cool either way.”
I had spent twelve minutes, or a hundred bucks, without getting anywhere. I wondered if she would accept a partial payment and let me leave.
“Dr. Iyer…”
“Neeta is fine,” she said.
“OK, Neeta, I don’t think my problem warrants this. I don’t know why Dr. Ramachandran sent me here.”
She picked my file from her desk. “Let’s see. This is Dr. Ram’s brief to me – patient has sleep deprivation, has cut off human contact for a week, refuses to eat, has Google-searched on best ways to commit suicide.” She paused and looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“I Google for all sorts of stuff,” I mumbled, “don’t you?”
“The report says the mere mention of her name, her neighbourhood or any association, like her favourite dish, brings out unpredictable emotions ranging from tears to rage to frustration.”
“I had a break-up. What do you expect?” I was irritated.
“Sure, with Ananya who stays in Mylapore. What’s her favourite dish? Curd rice?”
I sat up straight. “Don’t,” I said weakly and felt a lump in my throat. I fought back tears. “Don’t,” I said again.
“Don’t what?” Neeta egged me on, “Minor problem, isn’t it?”
“Fuck minor. It’s killing me.” I stood agitatedly. “Do you South Indians even know what emotions are all about?”
“I’ll ignore the racist comment. You can stand and talk, but if it is a long story, take the couch. I want it all,” she said.
I broke into tears. “Why did this happen to me?” I sobbed.
She passed me a tissue.
“Where do I begin?” I said and sat gingerly on the couch.
“Where all love stories begin. From when you met her the first time,” she said.
She drew the curtains and switched on the air-conditioner. I began to talk and get my money’s worth.