The scent of intellect is cruel,
It disregards the shoulder of emotion,
The neck of subtlety,
And the breath that churns like waves of the ocean.
Its logic and reason are sharp cutting tools
That strip the covering off the breast;
It relies on no aspect of beauty,
Unless beauty passes some deductive test.
I am not quite certain of this scent
And its application on warm heart beats…
I cannot take pleasure in all that it wins over,
For I ache for all that it casually defeats.
I have had my heart torn open
And I have lost all my trust,
By the hands I loved –
They did what they felt they must.
Over time, my shredded heart
Knew whatever hope it stole,
In bits and pieces hope would come,
But never in an entire whole.
I have loved thrice before
And all love speaks of pain,
But I love and love and love and love,
Even though I have wished to refrain.
I never thought I’d love you –
So much so – when I thought I was done,
I never thought I’d fall in love,
When all we sought was a bit of fun.
You came into my life,
With your golden eyes and half smile,
And I thought I was wise and reserved,
But I was falling in love all of the while.
You lay in my arms and I lay in yours,
We never knew when love grew,
Plans changed and I found in myself,
Someone that I never thought I knew.
I expanded and my mind exploded,
With what I always wanted to feel:
Something so different, something so disparate,
To what I thought could live to heal
This torn, intellectual, stubborn, scared heart;
But it did, and it did it so well –
Your hands got intertwined with heaven
And you made me forget most of the hell.
I have never thought much of tomorrow;
It comes with its own steady pace;
I have here and now, and him and you,
And I have no desire to win any race.
You make me smile and you keep me warm,
In a way that eases my burden from all;
And though you stagger sometimes with it,
I am not the sort to let any love fall.
So here is to you, here is to me, here is to them
Here is to him, here is to her, here is to us,
Here is to our life today, at this moment,
And here is to all love that smiles and adjusts.
I was just having a conversation with a friend on WhatsApp and he asked me, knowing how much I love the movies, how I liked the Oscars, this year. Honestly speaking, I was a little irritated by all the political correctness. Sometimes I feel the hosts of the show get a lot more leeway – let me correct myself, all of the leeway – at making astute jokes at the hypocrisy of the attitude behind most people’s motives.
I think everyone who should be given their due should be given it immediately. For example, I wish James Ivory was felicitated when Merchant was alive, when they brought out the phenomenal (and of flawed, too, in places, as any art can be – Maurice, for example, was dark haired, not a blond as shown in the movie – a tiny detail that irked me to no end) retelling of the E. M. Forster novel, Maurice. It just won an award for Best Costume Design in 1988. I mean, really? That’s all people got from such a ground-breaking movie? Clothes? I mean, fashion and being gay, what a cliché!
In my humble opinion, The Shape of Water was a brilliant movie but when shown in comparison to Call Me By Your Name or Three Billboards In Ebbing, Missourie, it pales a little. But of course, the Academy must be politically correct, it had a girl who couldn’t speak, a fish (god) out of water, a cruel white man with a love for guns, a black compatriot and a gay side-kick. Everything that probably Donald Trump would hate, and I would love.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the nominees, but the selection process must be based on the movies themselves, and of course, the message that they bring is important, but we have to weigh the ‘collateral beauty’ of art when talking about the Oscars.
I resent that Greta Gerwig was made a nominee just because Natalie Portman happened to jokingly mention the line-up of all male directors at the Golden Globes for best director. Lady Bird is brilliant, the leads did a fantastic job of assaying the roles and it hit all the right spots of teenage angst. But bring Greta in for that, not just for the fact that she is woman. You have to look above and beyond this natural phenomenon – and if she was awesome, put her in the line-up of all the award ceremonies. I felt like jumping out of a moving car, too.
If everyone declares Time’s Up, and protest by wearing black, make it a fait accompli and wear black for all the award functions. Wearing black for one award function proves what exactly? In that case, Meher Tatna, Blanca Blanco and Barbara Meier had it right: it’s not what you wear that makes a difference, it’s how you think and what you believe in your heart. It would have been so cool if all the women wore black for all the award ceremonies this year. That would have been a adequate statement.
“Oh, I can’t wear this brilliant piece for the Globes, but, let’s just wait for the Oscars, that’s the main event anyway.” Rolling eyes now.
Personally speaking, because this is all a personal opinion anyway, I don’t get how The Black Panther and Get Out are getting all these accolades. They are good movies, one is fantasy fiction and the other is a dark satire, no doubt that they are worthy of spending your time and money on, but why the hoopla? But against Lilies of the Field, To Sir With Love, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, The Color Purple, Hotel Rwanda, Invictus, Fences, Hidden Figures and Moonlight there is absolutely no comparison.
I was surprised when Remember Me won Best Song, I mean, in the current state of affairs, This Is Me should have won – it works for the politically correct theme being set up.
The Oscars got it right with Best Adapted Screenplay, Frances McDormand, Sam Rockwell and Gary Oldman. Thankfully.
It is sad to note, but maybe this has always been a sign of the times, that being politically correct and not speaking the truth for fear of chastisement is now become the norm of our Age. We all live in fear of being branded Right or Left, Capitalist or Communist, Right or Wrong that we fail to appreciate the beautiful, even if we do not agree with it.
So, in conclusion then, setting a paradox for this entire blog entry, I’d say I do not agree with many of the wins at the Oscars, but if other people consider them deservingly beautiful, and not to make their choice politically correct, then they rightfully won.
Hearts Still Care 
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