in love with the devil and his double


I make my pact with the devil and purposefully stride in to … wait a min, an empty theatre! Yes, absolutely empty save for my own self! 

The irony or the lack of it couldn’t have been more underlined. Here I was on a Monday noon, all by myself (have been doing this a lot lately) to catch the flick I have been waiting for, ever since caught its whiff! The background score of the promos kept looping themselves on in my mind’s ear. 

Congratulations to Christian Henson, by the way! Excellent, excellent score! 

Presently, I am in no mood to pay attention to the crowding empty seats, I settle down and Bam!

Nick Hornet  gives almost the review I meant to!
Yet, I needed to do this. Because? DOMINIC COOPER! LOVE! 

He is a treat to watch! This is his film! 
Not for a second you see Mama Mia's Sky - a total cad! Not for a second! 

As Uday he captures the frame like none, you are almost at the edge of your seat, not knowing what is next!

As Latif, it’s easy to fall for him and you can see why Sarrab (the love interest) does what she does.

Aside, Ludivine Sagnier as Sarrab is a classic beauty but a waste here.

The film has its fault, in fact, I would say many… and if it hadn’t been for Dominic, the OST and editing (except the very first mirror scene, where you just know that two characters are digitally together), this would have fallen flat!

The plot is sketchy (in a name of documentary-festivals’ film, I would probably forgive this) but the pace is not set! It rushes into certain things which should have taken their own time and strolls with inconsequential.

Also, as a so-called-biopic of a sociopath – Uday Saddam Hussein, violence is quite understated! Which is good, for someone like me, but then, even understated violence can be chilling. Here, we are just waiting for something gross, downright violent to happen, which I am sure is all in the two books this is inspired from. 

One can see that perhaps Tamahori in attempt to keep the documentorial tone, kept the socio-path’s behavior on the sides.

I do not really believe in stars and ratings, I would say WATCH IT FOR COOPER!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

ma realite'



born out of the wind and the water,
my soul is warped, wrapped in wanderlust.
like fairy-dust, am unreal
and, i couldn’t have loved you more or less …
lost words whisper slowly
on moon beams they travel
broken stars in the hair
keepin check on unruly curls
handful of shadows...
hunting you, haunting you..


via www


Copyright © Neerja Yadav

analysing appetite


Walking back from the memory’s garden, the wild random moments will shout your name. You will pause somewhere on the pavement of an inconsequential summer afternoon and stare at yourself-then, the naiveté of that girl, the dreams that tried to reach up and up on slender spirits to the stars, and you will wonder what happened to that 20something woman.

You will stand there in the summer heat and wonder how she survived the scorching sweat drenched days and nights, hungry AND thirsty with a six months kicking inside her guts. 

It will be past nine. The August sky is now on the cusp of warm and cold. And, you will wonder, how unwittingly you continue to make choices and doodle on the time-sand. And, before long these doodling becomes the topography your story.

Today, somehow you feel the presence! It’s almost like a tangible bouquet.

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

write


I’ve been bunking from here, off late. Perhaps, it’s just my procrastinating self, which finally has begun procrastinating the self! Or, perhaps, the anti-social me is spilling into cyber me as well. I really don’t know.

For the first time in two or three weeks, today, I felt like I could breathe in again without anxiety fraying the weft of my heart. Packing a caring for a flu-ridden and teething baby; the house chores; the laundry, the work, the conference calls and the professional writing; became like this huge un- scalable hills and everything just about came tumbling down. Falling with a migraine-inducing clatter!

Depression, however fleeting, put me right up against the edges of things: the tattered cuff, the broken branch, mud-spattered roads. It stained my heart ashy, the color a clouded sky turns after dark.

Wide awake at night, each day starting out with tight breath and tears close.

I resent myself for not being the my version of a perfect mother, I resent myself for not being able to give my best to my work (which I like), to the school work (which I again like) and being that superwoman  home-maker which is what I pride myself of being. And absolutely inadequate, non-creative as a writer! And resentment for self is the worst you can do for self.

Each of the muscles taut with tension, each joints screaming with pain and then this body housing the near-empty soul! 

So, here I am. Nearly mad! 


Copyright © Neerja Yadav