And so the bachelors ends. Well, actually, tomorrow is my last exam after which is am footloose and fancy-free. This is going to be a good year, I can feel it. Time for new beginnings, higher earnings, less spendings and mucho weight losings. I'm sorry, I get lame when I'm excited. :D

And yes, of course, the lol moment of the day goes to this little gem from god old gapingvoid.com:

The (obvious) downside to a soaring high is the sinking low that must necessarily follow, at least for me. As I struggle with issues of varying importance of the day, drifts of otherworldy chants flow in through the windows. They herald the approach of the fanatics, cheering for the almighty and good while enjoying the ride on the back of a loudspeaker fitted bus. Privileged neighborhood, you say? Not today.

As I prepare to shut down for the day, snatches of mechanical fanaticism wafts in from random windowpanes around me, reminding me of all those mornings I would awaken at fajr before school and lay in bed and hear the ghostly echoes of neighborhood mosques competing to sound the azaan. On those occasions, I would lie still in the darkness and wait for the end of the recitation and the mingled, soft murmurings of the post-azaan prayers, all merging together like snatches of the same symphony that started at different times. Words are so inadequate to describe memories. If only I could describe that feeling of peace in a way that would make you understand it, feel it with me. Truth is even I don't feel that way anymore. I wonder if it was the childhood innocence that let me feel that in those completely illegible words there was a power that could soothe the troubled child's soul and allow for the possibility that prayers leaving those small, cupped hands would actually end up somewhere that they had meaning. Maybe it was just the tone of the voices, the soothing male murmurs for a child looking for a father figure, even it came in the shape of a dozen disembodied voices in the darkness. I would give a great deal to be able to feel that way again, to trust the good that happens and not have to instinctively look over my shoulder for the impending bad.

I want once again to be that which I have left behind: a child at fajr.

I just saw Vishal Bhardwaj's remake of Othello as Omkara, after being nagged by mum and sis for weeks to watch. My short review, Saif Ali Khan is much better in the role of Iago/Langra than I thought he would be, but my favorite Iago performance remains Kenneth Brannaugh. Ajay Devgan disappoints me every time. How is this any different from any of his other role, i.e. the broody, quiet, authoritative man in command? Personally, I always thought the biggest reason for Othello's downfall was his own insecurity, despite winning the fair (literally) Desdemona's love and hand. Devgan portrays none of the quiet insecurity Othello (as a black man in charge of white men at a time when racial prejudice was rampant) feels when commanding the handsome and youthful Cassio and the experienced (and white) Iago. To see how it should be done right, check out the 1995 version with Laurence Fishbourne (yes, Morpheus). Other than that, it's a good version.

My only complaints, however, relate to the heavy UP dialect used in the movie. Mum and sis saw the film in the US with subtitles, I saw it locally minus subtitles, and had to keep asking them "what did he just say?". Either ship a permanently subtitles version or the dialect should have been left out of it. I hear it's making waves in India because of the very explicit language as well. Didn't bother me, personally. I wouldn't expect the local equivalent of villager gangsters in the UP to mind their P's and Q's when they talk.

Anyhow, my verdict: watch but with subtitles so you can understand what's going on. And leave the kiddies at home.