The Secret Life of Walter Mitty - Movie Review

I watched 'The Secret Life of Walter Mitty' with a bunch of friends again yesterday. There's something about that movie that takes me back to it again and again. I sat down and tried to distill everything about the movie that appeals to me and figured that it was several little things that together, make it one of my all-time favorites. The list of those little ingredients is below:

• You can easily relate to it – The movie is about everyday folks - people like you and me. Ben Stiller looks like an Average Joe while Kristen Wiig isn’t too extraordinary looking either. The protagonist (Walter) in the movie has problems, fears and insecurities, is financially constrained, lives from paycheck to paycheck (or very close to it), is sold to routine (he’s worked there for 16 years) and doesn’t know what comes next… But like ordinary people everywhere, he is a day-dreamer and dreams of heroic deeds, extraordinary achievements and in those brief moments when he lives in his day dreams, he becomes a totally different person – strong, confident, adventurous. It’s this innocence in his character and his demeanor that make him so easy to relate to
• The awkward clumsiness and the subtleties – The awkwardness in the movie is very endearing. Be it the interactions and communication between Walter and his love interest Cheryl at various points in the story or the small half-hug between Walter and his co-worker in the elevator after they are fired or the conversations that Walter has with various people on the rusty boat or in many other places during the movie, awkwardness is the main ingredient to many of these interactions. I particularly love the clumsy way in which Walter asks Cheryl out and her shy and awkward response. The look on both Walter and Cheryl’s faces when he holds her hand in the end is beautiful too – there is a cute shyness and beautiful subtlety to that scene. I also love the clumsy way in which Sean responds to Walter’s accusation of his stupidity to hide the cover photo negative in a wallet fold. The subtleties in the movie are lovely too – the look of quiet pride on Walter’s face as he sees Life’s final cover leaves you with a warm glow and a tiny lump in your throat. It is this very awkwardness that is inherent to most scenes and the tiny subtleties in the movie that makes the conversations and relationships all the more real – very few real people have the swagger or the confidence to pull off all interactions with another person with élan! In real life, where emotions or feelings are involved, there is awkwardness and the movie captures that essence beautifully
• The music – The background scores to the movie could not have been more appropriate! Be it “Step Out” when Walter suddenly decides to take charge or Cheryl singing “Space Oddity” when Walter jumps onto a rickety helicopter with a drunk pilot or “Don’t let it Pass” as Walter and Sean play a ball game with Afghan kids with lofty, snow-capped mountains in the background, the music captures the emotion of the scene wonderfully and takes the audience with it. There’s a lilting and quiet outer-worldliness to the music that transforms each scene into something beyond surreal
• Comic dialogues and brilliant one-liners - The movie has some fantastic one liners and dialogues including the piece where the new and improved Walter ticks off Ted Hendricks or when he puts down his fake beard in his day dream which provide a lot of comic relief. However, my favorite ones are al from Sean O’Connell and I’ve pasted them below from imdb:

1.       Sean O'Connell: Beautiful things don't ask for attention. (When talking about the snow leopard)

2.       Walter Mitty: When are you going to take it?

Sean O'Connell: Sometimes I don't. If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don't like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it.

Walter Mitty: Stay in it?

Sean O'Connell: Yeah. Right there… Right here.

3.       Walter Mitty: What was the picture?

Sean O'Connell: Let's just call it a ghost cat, Walter Mitty.

• The fluid cinematography and the spectacular landscapes – Iceland is outstandingly breathtaking. Period. However, the movie has done a fantastic job of infusing more life into those beautiful landscapes. One has to see the movie to realize what I am alluding to (and I do not want to go into more detail on this, for the fear of escaping into another of my many day dreams of Iceland). The other amazing point to note in the movie is the flawless cinematography. Take for instance the initial credits where the motto of Life magazine is meshed with the everyday scenes from New York, to provide a seamless view into Walter’s daily routine. This is just one of various such transitions in the film that enhance the experience for the viewer
• The movie is not about the underdog beating the cruel, heartless manager, and thus, the system: No, the movie is not about Walter Mitty beating Ted Hendricks, though the viewer does get a vaguely triumphant feeling when Walter tells Ted off at the end. No, the movie is something beyond that – it’s about overcoming your own fears and inhibitions and seizing the moment, it’s about going for something you crave for, it’s about courage and going in to the unknown, it’s for searching for something and finding it deep within. Sure, the movie does have some unrealistic elements to it – for instance, despite Walter’s seemingly absent fitness routine, he is able to climb to 15,000 ft and look none the worse for wear at the end, or that he is able to travel from Greenland to Iceland to Afghanistan in search of an elusive Sean, in just a little more than a week (and I’m sure there are other things like this). However the movie offers inspiration for those who are stuck in a routine for a long time to let go and provides inspiration to move beyond dreams and make them a reality. The movie takes “Carpe Diem” to heart, urges its viewers to do the same and the effect is profound. Finally, the movie is an excellent tribute whether intentionally or not, to the motto of Life. As Walter puts it, “To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life.”

Book Review: Escape from Camp 14

Imagine a world where every minute of your life is watched, where your days are filled with hard labor for more than 14 hours but where you are perpetually hungry, where your diet only consists of the same two things everyday, where punishment consists of not just denying these meager meals, but further physical assault including beating, cutting off of fingers, slapping, kneeling on your knees in extremely cold weather for hours on end or even having to hang upside down from the ceiling till you are forced to confess to crimes that you may or may not have committed. Imagine having the best moments of your childhood being those few moments when your belly is full, albeit with rats or snakes or whatever you could find that did not attract punishment. What if I told you that in this world, that the words 'mother' or 'father' did not elucidate any love or affection but anger and resentment, and where you view your parents as competitors for food and shelter and those who must be watched carefully and reported if caught doing anything abnormal? Furthermore, what if in this world, you would be oblivious about the existence of telephones, internet, technology or modern means of transport? Where the only two things you felt were fear and hunger? Does this not sound like an extreme form of 1984, magnifying George Orwell's extreme fears? Or maybe a concentration camp at the height of the Nazi rule? Now what if I told you, that this situation exists. Today. Playing out as you read, in a corner of the world that people choose to either pity or ignore or worse still, are unaware of its existence - a prison camp in North Korea. 

Escape from Camp 14 is a chilling account of life in a prison camp in one of the most oppressive countries in the world. Several documentaries (like this one and this one) from the recent past, have made the world aware of what life looks like in North Korea. In 2009, the North Korean News Agency issued a statement that read, "There is no "human rights issue" in this country, as everyone leads the most dignified and happy life." However, any mildly aware person would know that the truth is far from it and that under the garb of a caring state, the military-led government and the first family control every aspect of life and dictate where one lives, what one does for a living and where one is allowed to travel. A state where everyone is subject to repeated brainwashing of the extreme kindness and greatness of 'The Great Leader' Kim Il Sung and 'The Dear Leader' Kim Jong Il, repeatedly violates every aspect of basic human rights, much to the chagrin of human rights agencies world-wide. The book however opens our eyes to something deeper and far worse than our wildest dreams and exposes us to the life of one person who was born and bred in a prison camp - Camp 14, but who managed to escape from there, and through his eyes, paints a vivid picture of life in the camp. While the existence of these camps have been repeatedly denied by the North Korean establishment, the utter breakdown of not just human rights, but even basic human values is appalling.  

Shin's life is one of horror - born of a forced marriage orchestrated by the camp establishment between his mother and father, who were themselves paying for the "crimes" of their relatives, Shin is doomed to an existence within the camp's boundaries. Shin's boyhood and teenage years are described in shocking detail through his eyes and shows how terrorizing living in a world where schooling is just a sham, where children are encouraged and even rewarded to report on their parents' and each others' wrongdoings and where kids had to invent lies just to avoid harsher punishment, or worse, be denied meals, can be. When all the things that make us human - our ability to think and empathize, our ability to feel powerful positive such trust, love and affection break down, we become worse than animals. Driven by constant hunger and fear of punishment, we become slaves to the establishment and are willing to spill on anyone, even our own kith and kin, if it comes with the mere possibility of a few more scraps of food or easier work. Shin's is a remarkable story that portrays courage, action and extremely good luck and takes us through his journey from near death to escape through the electrified fences to China, the United States and South Korea. The book also beautifully describes the emotional journey of the man who gradually evolved from mere animal instincts to feel happiness, confidence and also extreme guilt. Shin's years in the camp marred him for life as he still struggles to cope with life in a free world today. This book written in a lucid and gripping style is highly recommended to anyone who wishes to know more about North Korea or oppressive regimes, but above all, I would recommend this book to everyone who cares about human rights and values and most of all, being human. 

You can be as happy or as unhappy as you want to be. It's all a friggin' state of mind.
True words.

The nice guy who finishes second...

There is a rumour that Dravid might retire soon from Test cricket. There are enough and more people baying for his blood, especially after his recent poor performance with the bat in Australia. His habit of “always being around” has been taken for granted and people typically tend to be unforgiving when it comes to him. I’m not sure if he’ll actually retire today or even soon, but knowing him, he’s very likely to pick an ordinary day, when there’s no media glare or when the press is busy reporting something more important, to hang up his boots. No Lights, Camera, Action for him. A few articles will be written about his contribution to the game, his style, his character, his status of being “the quintessential unsung hero”, his absolute love for the game and people will move on to something else or someone else of a more Godly status. And Dravid, in his typical style will smile, shrug and move on.

However, I for one do not want to wait for the day when he retires to write something about him. Yes, I belong to that motley crowd of people who support him, no matter what and who constantly rue the fact that he does not get sufficient praise or attention…but not today. Dravid’s been someone I’ve truly admired for a lot of things. What started off as an innocent crush when I first saw him on television way back in 1996, has over the years, blossomed into a fervent admiration for a man, who has, on many an occasion brought India back from the brink. I followed him throughout his playing career, observed and learnt several things from him - lessons in life, that I could not have gleaned from any other public figure, sportsman or otherwise. The next few paragraphs are dedicated to those valuable lessons.


Persevere, do your duty. The rest will follow.
Dravid did not start off too well in the game. He was brought into the side as a replacement for Kambli after the 1996 World Cup, but was dropped subsequently. However, over the next few series, he struggled and slowly picked up his game and went on to become India’s highest run getter in the 1999 World Cup. Over the course of his playing career, he has been dropped several times, but always came back improving his technique, his style, his game. He developed the reputation of being a defensive batsman who shouldn’t be playing one day games due to his slow run rate and was dropped from the side. He came back stronger and went on to win the ICC Player of the year. Time and again, year after year he has reiterated his worth to the side. He’s never once complained or pinned blame for his bad performance on anything else. His game mirrors the struggle of our daily existence. We do not always get what we what, but we should plod on no matter what. Life has to go on, and we just have to keep fighting personal battles and getting better at what we do. The joy is always in the struggle, not in the reward; the beauty is always in the journey, not the destination.


Love what you do, truly, madly, deeply. And do it right.
No one worships the game more than Dravid. In the entire Indian lineup, it is only him who probably understands and reveres cricket, especially the pristine Test format and its history, significance, purity and tradition. I can almost imagine him surveying the field on the eve of every match, taking in the stunning silence or maybe the chirping of a sole grasshopper in the background and smile while he thinks of the game that will be played the following day. I heard he once got upset when some pressmen walked on the pitch, the day before the game. To him, the ground is like a temple, a place of worship to be treated with all due respect.

No one seems to care about technique more than he does. If someone did an analysis on his strokes, each one would probably be in accordance with the description laid out in the Wisden book of cricket. Each shot of his, be it a cover drive, square cut, defense or sweep are a joy to behold. Not for him the helicopter shots and the random hitting that T20 cricket has brought in. The beauty, tradition and the purity of what you do ought to be preserved.


Adapt, for change is the way of life!
No other cricketer in the Indian team has worn as many hats as Dravid. He’s given up his #3 position in the lineup many a time and has opened the game, played down the order, been night watchman, etc . He’s bent to the whims and fancies of other players in the side, and has taken up positions that may have been least desirable at that point, but done his duty well. Uncomplaining, yet unfailing. When India lacked a good wicketkeeper, he willingly donned the gloves, would squat for 50 overs, after which he would put on his batting gloves and come down to open with the bat. When he was not keeping, one was sure to find him fielding in the slip, watching in rapt attention and waiting for the ball to snick off the bat and come towards him. He was even called to bowl once and has a wicket to his credit. He, like no one else, has taught me the importance of reinventing oneself to suit the current circumstances while maintaining one’s identity.


Be a team player
Dravid does not play for records. I’m willing to stick out my neck to say this and take any amount of criticism or counter arguments for this statement. Unlike many others in the game from across teams (and I’m not taking any names here), Dravid has never played for having his name etched on the trophies or inked in the record books. That he is the second highest run getter in the history of Test cricket, or is credited with the most number of catches, is only incidental.

Throughout his career, Dravid has played under a shadow of someone else. Whatever he does, someone else outshines him. Whether it was during his early playing years when he was outplayed by Dada with his stylish strokes and his aggression, or the times Down Under when the focus was always on the Very Very Special performer or during all those times when he’s been outperformed by Sachin… People have almost forgotten that he was the highest run-getter in 2011. A few years from now too, when all the stalwarts of the game will no longer be playing, people will remember “Sachin’s shot of Warne during such and such a match” or “Sehwag’s century during that series”, etc., but Dravid’s ever-present support in all these innings will be forgotten. After all, teams win matches, but it is always the individual performance that stands out in time. He has been the stable backbone of many a great partnership – with Ganguly, with Tendulkar, with Laxman. Records have been made on his support and Dravid has watched, smiled and offered his strong shoulders for other giants to stand on. During a crucial partnership with Sehwag, Dravid told him, “'Just keep enjoying yourself, mate. I'm having a great time watching you”. He had been severely criticized when, during a series as a stand-in captain, he declared the innings when Sachin was batting on 194 with sufficient overs remaining. However, what people then failed to notice was that, for him, someone’s record of scoring a 200 was pointless in the face of the game. Whether India later won the match or not, is immaterial. He did what seemed right at that point of time and proved that no single player is ever above the game.


Live your life with humble, quiet dignity
When Dravid gave the Bradman oration last year, it had everyone spellbound. No one had ever thought that a player could so astutely observe macro factors that were having a quiet influence on the game, and form a clear analysis on what had to be done to preserve cricket. What however had me stumped, was the way he began the speech, acknowledging the venue (the War Memorial) and remembering all those “men and women who lived out the words – war, battle, fight - for real and then gave it all up for their country, their lives left incomplete, futures extinguished”. On such a grand stage, while delivering such an honourable speech, he first chose to pay his respects to the holy ground on which they stood. Such is the man.

His game too is similar. It does not have the flamboyance of Saurav Ganguly, the aggression of Dhoni, the timelessness of Tendulkar or the urgency of Sehwag, but has the stability and a calming effect that stems from his strong, well-grounded personality. Dravid is the Mr. Darcy of Indian cricket, always in the background doing his duty and expecting no rewards, unassuming, unpretentious and solid. He’s always one of the faces in the dressing room, applauding another’s performance, encouraging another during a bad form, giving the much needed thump on the back. As a stable supporter, he’s taught a competition obsessed nation that it is okay to come second. “You never win the silver, you always lose the gold” is not a quote for him. Like silver, he’s passed the test of fire several times and has always come out pure on the other side.

I’m not sure if he will retire soon. He will, in all probability stick around to coach the newbies and to pass on the baton to younger hands. And one day he will go, walking into the twilight, looking down at his feet in his typical, non-descript way, and time will stop for a brief moment to honour him and his invaluable contribution to the game. For, cricketers may come and go, but there never will be another “Wall”, another perfect role model, another Rahul Dravid.

In Memoriam: Steven Paul Jobs

For the last 36 hours, there has been only one thing on the news – the death of Steve Jobs. An outpouring of tributes, news articles, quotes, videos and gushing eulogies have been doing the rounds, as have "R.I.P Steve", "We'll miss you, Steve" and the entire gamut of "i-___" messages. Yesterday, when I first heard the news of his passing away, I felt completely blue for most of the day and was nearly on the verge of tears. Today – a day after the magician left this world for good, I still feel empty inside. Thus, this piece of writing is like any other – a tribute to Jobs, filled with feeling and emotion, yet a tad different. This is because I am not an Apple user, save the ubiquitous iPod (which does not count for obvious reasons). Yes, I do belong to the rapidly shrinking, rare breed of people who look forward to every new Apple launch with glassy eyes, but shy away from buying one despite being able to afford them, because they are "grossly overpriced" and "not worth the premium".

Despite this, Jobs' death has affected me immensely. Maybe it was because it was so sudden. Maybe it was because he was young and all his technocratic counterparts are still around - alive and kicking. Maybe it was because he had that invincible air about him - something that was all the more evident each time he stepped on to the stage in faded blue jeans and a black turtleneck to unveil the next mind-blowing masterpiece with a passionate glint in his eyes coupled with "And one more thing...". I’m sure I wasn’t alone in thinking that Steve would be around for a long time, despite his illness. However, I think the biggest reason behind my hollow feeling is because Steven Paul Jobs managed to touch billions of lives, mine included – a feat not many have been able to accomplish since the invention of the light bulb. After all, when was the last time a person managed to inspire geeks and business leaders alike, without being an engineer or an MBA himself. I do not wish to take anything away from Bill Gates or any other person, but, to a person who loves science, thrives on beautiful design and demands perfection in everything, there could no better role model than Steve Jobs. People have called him the “modern day Ford” and the “digital world's Edison”, but Steve Jobs was different, he was more. There was an aura about him that inspired, was mischievous, was rebellious, was powerful, was dark, was passionate... No one has managed to create many a world, maybe even a parallel universe, before him. He was the Che Guevara of our generation - the ultimate rebel, the iconoclast to a generation that has cauldrons of restlessness bubbling within.

I've read a lot about Steve, from various perspectives and through the eyes of many different people. Eerily, most of what I’ve read about him has been in the last few months. I've read about his fall from glory, his mercurial temperament, his phoenix-like resurrection and the magic he created... I've watched Pirates of the Silicon Valley and loved and loathed him at the same time. I've read John Sculley's "An Odyssey: From Pepsi to Apple" and stopped midway because I gave up on Sculley as a narrow-minded nutcase who could not recognize Genius, though he was staring at him in the face. At different points of time, I've disliked Steve and credited all his success to good luck, loved him for his passion, revered him for the beauty and elegance that each product of his exuded, been awed by the determination of this tall, gangling marketer and admired him for the confidence he exuded, the endless charm he spun and the surefootedness he seemed to possess in unending measure. No one belonging to this day and age has inspired me or intrigued me more. His arrogance, his sheer brashness, his strong presence, his quest for perfection, his ability to see the big picture – they are all stuff of legend. Steve Jobs saw potential where others didn’t, saw brilliance in what others thought was different, saw magic in the mundane… He was able to put in the palm of one’s hand, what had occupied an entire room when he was born. Yes, Steve Jobs was a marvel – Stevie Wonder, if you may. And he will be missed a lot. However, what he did, what he created, will continue to inspire the generations who live, and the generations to come. In his own words, he managed to “put a ding in the universe”.

Goodbye Steve. Hope you’ll be happy up there. And as a facebook message aptly puts it, “If Heaven is not white, shiny and beautifully designed, it will be soon”.
Bon Voyage.

A touch of silver…

Tomorrow I turn 25...

I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal of it. It’s after all just another number right? It’s probably because I will no longer be in my “early twenties”… 25 seems like a milestone and a huge one at that. Yet, I’m actually just a day older than I am today right? So why have I been a little more restless than normal during the last couple of weeks, I wonder? People have told me of a phenomenon called the “Quarter Life crisis” – a phase full of uncertainty where questions like “What am I doing with my life?” plague a person. For some, it remains a passing phase – something that soon gives away to other materialistic and mundane aspects of life like career, marriage and household affairs and ultimately ending precisely where it all started, with the same questions but a different name – the “Mid-life crisis”. The Circle of Life eh? For some lucky and brave heart others, this “quarter life crisis” results in a plunge into something different, the quest for “one’s true calling”, the first step off the beaten track.

I’ve had a good and comfortable life till now. No complaints, a few regrets – but the kind that will ebb away in a few years and bring a smile on my face when I think of them while sipping hot cocoa on a cold, rainy day by the fireplace. I’ve smiled, laughed, cried, loved, pursued ambitions, won, lost, talked… I’ve seen the magical power of a smile, experienced the beauty of love, tasted the joy of true friendship, felt the pain of losing a loved one, experienced the ecstasy of winning and the numbing silence of a loss… I’ve met some very interesting people and some not so nice ones – but those from whom I have learnt the importance of making the right choices, of separating the wheat from the chaff… I’ve learnt where to hold tight and where to move on. Interests have come and gone, like the coming and going of waves. Some have stuck on and turned, or are rapidly turning into passions – travel, music, Nature, books, photography. I have a long, ever-growing bucket list, and with it, the burning dream to tick off each and every item on it. I’ve learned to find joy in the simplest of things – the twinkling laugh of a child, the chirp of a bird, the crash of the waves, the dew on the leaves, the wind in my face, and to appreciate the beauty in everyday events – a surprise hug, the voice of a long lost friend on the other end of the line, a quick commiserative smile from a total stranger… I have been shaped slowly, but surely by experiences - both mine and those of others, have grown, and am in the process of discovering the mystery that I am – little by little, day by day. Yes, it has been a comfortable life but still, there is that slight unease, those minor palpitations… A quarter of a century has passed since I arrived on earth and I wonder if I have indeed arrived at all.

To an outsider, I probably come across as a person who has life all figured out, who has achieved almost all that she could have in 25 years of existence. However, those that know me well also know of the turbulence that lies under the cheerful exterior. They also know of the non-conformist, the rebel in me. I still have the same questions, the same confusion that I had a few years ago when I stepped out of comfort of my parents’ home and into the serene campus of Surathkal. The “Where?”, “Why?”, “How?” and “What?” still haunt me just the same. The only difference is that I am just somewhat surer, a tad more confident and have a lot more courage in my convictions than I did when I was 17. I also know that answers to these questions will surface in due course of time and that paths will open, sooner or later. Today, I look towards the next quarter of the century with hope, courage, joy and the anticipation of doing something more meaningful with the wonderful gift that is this life. Yes, 25 is just a number, something of little significance to someone who believes staunchly in “18 till I die!”

I sign off with my favourite Robert Frost lines, with some improvisation
“I shall be telling this with a smile,
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.”

Is it just me?

A few years ago:

I used to be able to sit in one corner of the room with a book in hand, completely oblivious to everything that was around me, food and drink forgotten, a screaming grandmom and mom ignored and could focus completely, totally and wholly on the piece of art in my hand, completely lost in the black print. Of late, I can't seem to focus on any book or movie for more than ten minutes, without fidgeting a million times, looking around the room, completely tuned in to the slightest noise or disturbance in the space around me!

I could listen to the same song over and over again and completely get lost each time in the lyrics, the melody, the voice... Today I find it difficult to listen to a single song from beginning to end without skipping parts I don't like.

I used to be able to remember the most insignificant detail of any conversation or bit of information someone had shared with me, including when and where that bit of knowledge had been imparted to me. I could recognize articles I had read years before and recite its contents almost effortlessly. I could remember whole poems after reading through them once. Statistics, numbers, names, figures, pictures came naturally to me and I could recreate the same vividly in words. Today, I find it difficult to remember my own aunt's phone number! I read the same articles again feeling only a faint sense of deja vu... I look up blogs, articles and other stuff on the internet, read it out to those around me and poof, forget everything that I've read almost the very next minute!

I still remember the physics formulae and equations I learnt years ago, nay a decade ago, but can't seem to recall a simple economics theory I came across in B-school not so long ago.

I used to be able to hold a conversation for hours on end on the most boring topic on earth. Today, I can't focus for more than a minute on the topics that interest me most!

Whenever I visited a place, I used to observe the most intricate details - the shape of the tiles on the pavement, the kind of trees along the road, the colours of the billboards, the building styles, the moustache of the bhelpuri wala standing near the pavement and map it to those details I saw in other places. Today, I noticed for the first time, that the road I walk on for a good ten minutes everyday is not tarred but tiled!

Is it just me? Or is there a larger, darker force at play?