The Gray Paradise (Short Story)

I stepped out the air conditioned car onto the street that seemed to be paved from the heat of hell. In a matter of seconds, my sunglasses began to fog from within and I took them off. It seemed like the sun was a feet away from my head. I squinted and rubbed my eyes for minutes before my gaze was adjusted to this bright burning weather.  It was a typical mid-summer afternoon in Karachi but coming from a breezy city like Toronto, the air was suffocating.

I walked straight towards the monstrous wooden doors guarded by two security guards and as I had anticipated, they let me in without any questioning. The common Pakistani is always intimidated by a man in a suit just stepping out of a million rupee car. I knew if I walked the walk correctly, they’d be holding doors for me. I guess something’s never change.

I stepped inside the doors which led to an open school ground.  It was time to clean out the skeletons in my closet. Just as I was exposed to the ground, I sunk in my own wistfulness. A massive wave of nostalgia overcame me and I stood struck by the memories for minutes.

There, on the left used to be the sports office, where I’d regularly check my name on the board for if I had made the cricket team or not. On the right used to be the twin canteens that were separated by a fence for the boys and girls. I’d line up every day with my friends and rush to grab the last piece of foiled beef roll. In the middle stood the cemented cricket pitch where I had many times exalted my skills.

The tall white buildings that rose from the ground on either side gave me such joy. Twenty years ago they were the last thing I would want to see. But today, after two decades of a mournful divorce from this place, I could not be happier to witness them. Each floor of these buildings had a different tale to tell.

The building on the far left was my Primary campus. All the pencil picking and address learning had been done there. On the right was my Secondary Building. That’s where I had gone through puberty, and learned what calculus was and wreaked a lot of mischief. If I think hard enough, I might still remember.

The time I had broken the chalk eraser in grade 7? The time I had sneaked out of class and bunked my history period loitering around the water cooler in grade 9? Or the time that I had picked my first and last fight and had broken Mohammad Ali’s nose in grade 10? So many memories of those wondrous years came flooding in. I was in the middle of these memories, the protagonist, the hero. And yet somehow, they felt like folk tales; stories that one tells the other for self-amusement. They have no truth to them, just stories that fade away with time.

But when I was living them, they were real. They were what I had known to be true. I had created my own food for life, and this is where I got the flavouring from.

I saw the cement pitch lay on the rocky yellow sand with great pride. I walked towards it, like I had walked towards it many times before. In rejoice of a wicket that a fellow player had taken, or with my head down with shame as we lost an easy one; my walk towards that pitch had always been remarkable.

But today I walk towards it with a different motive. I walk towards it so it may relieve me of my pain. I walk towards it not a 17 year old boy that believed that the world was his, but a 37 year old man that realized it wasn’t. I walk towards it with shame that I was unable to fulfill all my promises to it. I walk towards it to seek my redemption.

St.Micheal's Convent School
Photo Credits: Faseeh Ul Haq

Every step I took, I went further and further into my own mind, lost in its empty abyss. Finally, I took one step on the rugged grey piece of cement and stepped on to the center with my back to the secondary building. I hoped what I had come here for would pay off. That I would not be disappointed after I turned. I saw my shadow on the ground. It looked ready for the 180 degree spin. And with a twist of my heel, I spun.

For a second nothing happened. I looked straight at the wall of the secondary building that stretched on for metres, turning on the far corner and then continuing again so it made a rather large L shape. For years the wall of that building served as a boundary for our cricket games. Alongside the wide walls were benches lined up under the shade. Those benches served as meeting points for our gang. It was there where we gathered and planned the rest of the school day.

And then it began. My brain finally picked out the memory I had long savoured to replay. At the east end of the secondary building was a gate that opened into the auditorium where we would write our O-level exams. I remember fondly of the day I wrote my final Islamiat exam. I had written a perfect test and walked straight to the pitch to get away from the tall shade that the Secondary building casted upon the ground. The sunlight relaxed my muscles and I felt free under the burning sun.

My friends would soon follow me to the center of the pitch to discuss the exam. One said it was amazing, the other complained about the time. One said he was surely going to flunk it. A lot of conversations were taking place right where I stood now.

And suddenly the voices seemed to diminish as a young girl stepped out from that gate on to the rocky field. Her pencil case was in her mouth as she redid her hair in a bun. Her hair band wrapped around her wrist as she fixed the little strands of hair that touched her nose and forehead. She gave her neck a little jolt and fixed the band on her hair and pulled the pencil case out of her mouth. She asked her friend if her hair looked fine. She then smiled and gave an ecstatic scream about her exam. The gleam in her eye dimmed the scorching sun above me. Her lips stretched out across her face and I could have sworn at that moment nothing could be more perfect.

She took small strides towards the benches and sat down. One of her friend’s seemed to insist that she had quoted some Hadith wrong, but she had no care of the exam anymore. She was free. She seemed to tell her that she was indifferent and made her realize that the summer vacations were finally upon us. Not a moment went by that the smile left her face.

I could still hear my friend talking, but somehow he was muted. Everything had paused. I had a tunnel vision only to her. That’s all I could see. Her, sitting on the white marble bench with her feet crossed, so majestic. Minutes went by and I continued to look at her, never batting an eye. I had seen her before, but not like this. This was something I had never felt before.

Soon enough her gaze met mine and I felt as if my heart had been electrocuted. My heartbeat increased and I could feel the boneless muscle in my chest skip a beat every time it made the effort of pumping blood into my astonished body. My lips curled into a smile, my cheeks went red but I did not break my vision. Her smile turned into amazement. She took up the challenge and continued to stare at me, not knowing what enchantment she was putting me under.

Soon she stuck her tongue out and made the most ridiculous face she could make. It was like watching a flowery meadow in spring. I laughed, not at her face, but at how it made me feel. I broke away from my little group and to walked towards her. I felt each step I took led me to enlightenment. This was my good fortune, I was walking towards the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

When I was in her presence I stopped. She raised an eyebrow, her smile still glued to her face.

“Hi.” I said.

“Hi.” She said.

“Hi.” A little boy standing next to me said. I looked over my shoulder and I realized I was standing on this gray paradise for a long time. The ghosts of my past evaporated like vapour in front of me. “What are we looking at?” he asked. He must have been 15 or 16. I hesitated to answer. I made a living constructing fairy tales but today I was at a loss of words.

“Just thinking,” I finally said.

“About what?”

“About how fast we grow up, but how slow our memories do.” He looked confused. He pondered upon what I had said and shrugged it off. He stared at my face for a long time, like trying to remember me from somewhere.

“Have I seen you somewhere?” he inquired.

“I don’t think so.” I knew he had seen me. I was part of his English curriculum. Soon enough he pulled out a book in his bag and flipped to the back cover only to see my face smiling back at him.

“You’re this guy!” he screamed! He understood he had met a celebrity. His realization faded soon as he heard the final bell of the day and realized school had finished. Almost involuntary, without even asking for an autograph, he shoved the book back in his bag and stood beside me silently, staring at the auditorium gate.

A bunch of students exited from that door and out to their vans and I saw him examine each one. His vision halted on one particular student, a girl that walked past with her books placed against her chest while talking to her friends. She exited the doors and out the school she was. I looked at the boy again and saw a smile develop on his face. He gathered his things, shook my hand and made his way to the exit.

I stood there perplexed at what had happened. For a brief moment, I could see the spark I felt for her in this little boy. Were kids still capable to feel what I had felt two decades ago? If so, were their destinies similar to mine? 

I was struck on that notion when I saw her again. Sitting on her white marble throne like a queen, she was just like I had remembered her. The young girl that had not a care for the world. The young girl which had taught me more about life than life itself. The young girl I had abandoned to chase my dreams, only to realize she was the dream. And now it's too late. 

She saw me and flashed her wicked smile again. She then stood up and walked towards the gate. My brain was playing tricks on me. She was not real. But I had the urge to follow her. To set everything right. To tell her I was sorry. But I couldn't.

So I stood there, sheepishly atop the gray paradise and under the blazing sun. I remembered how the boy's face lit up when he saw the girl walk by. I could fondly remember myself once in his footsteps; believing love was as simple as they showed it in movies. I put my glasses on and walked towards the giant doors. 

I was a prisoner of my regrets and this was my punishment. For twenty years she pecked on my brains, reminding me of the mistake that I had made. Today, after twenty years of suffering, I welcome the pain, it is the sensation which will liberate me. Pain, my impeding friend

Break a Leg

"All pain is permanent as long as it can be seen." 

It’s like breaking a leg. All your friends and close relatives come visit you. If not, they at least call or leave a text message just recording their well wishes. Some really close friends, who’ve also rocked on the same boat, tell you how they had it much worse. Their experience defines their sympathies.

“Oh it was terrible!” they’d say. “Right down the knee cap up to my ankle. Leg split right open. You could even see the marrow! At least yours isn’t so bad.” They think it’s reassuring, but it’s actually not. It just makes me want to cut open my wound and show them I’m stronger than what they see.

Some friends play the pity card. They sit with you, talk to you, watch a movie with you, listen to your complaints and how much it hurts and how nothing is helping. They try to feel empathetic, but they’re not even close. They can’t feel it. Others try to cheer you up with mundane things like juice or candy or your favourite food. They just don’t know that when in pain, even sugar tastes bitter. It’s just how it is.

It’s not their fault to be honest. They’re just doing their job. Trying to help during the healing process. Trying to be there at the worst times. Just to create memories. Or maybe to reassure themselves that when it’s their turn, you’ll be there for them. I’ll be there for them.

What they don’t understand, is that at the time of healing, nothing feels good. It’s like chemo therapy. You lose your hair, your skin is pale, and the doctors are saying you’re getting better. But you don’t see it. You don’t feel it. It’s not there. The lasers are killing you and the cancer, simultaneously. You both are the disease, and you both are the cure.

What really agitates me is when it hurts, you can’t see it. They can’t see it. So when you complain and cry and show them the area where it hurts, they can’t see it. They’ll tell you it’ll get better, but they’re deluding you in the process of deluding themselves.

But the bizarre thing is, when the pain is unbearable, it stops. Everything stops. Your screams just become wave energies that you produce from your throat, tears just droplets of water cleaning your eyes, and your leg, just a hollow piece of bone, waiting to be mended.

When the pain is less, I sit near my window. Watching the kids play together, or the birds chirping away near the maple tree. It’s calming but not enough to make me forget what I’m unable to do. It’s not long before I push away and lie back in my bed and put my earphones on, muting the world as the melodies sooth my ear.

As time passes by, the friends start coming occasionally; giving more gaps between their visits and shortening their stay. It’s only fair. Nobody has the time that I have. So I welcome them just as hospitably as I did the first time. Their expectations grow from visit to visit.

“Oh it’s been a few weeks now, the leg is about to heal!”

“Well look at that, just a couple of weeks, the cast will be off and you’ll be walking along.”

I just smile and nod. Clearly they’re more optimistic than I’ll ever be. A few weeks to them are years to me. My time zone is different from theirs. Seconds can last as long as months and days can feel as short as minutes. Night bright as day and days darker than nights. That’s what pain does to you.

Eventually they stop coming. I get texts from them asking me how I am. How much longer till the cast is off. I say a few more days. 

I await the day my leg is free again. Scarred, but free. I walk. It’s magic.

I am back among the regular the people. Laughing, talking. My friends forget the wound and time heals the cuts. But I remember it fondly. The pain, my impeding friend.

That’s how a heartbreak feels. Exactly like that. 

Twitter: @itsNazar
Instagram: @itsNazar96

Doctor or Engineer?

"The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up." - Paul Valery

Well. It’s been some time since I’ve been posting. Mainly because school’s been hectic and life’s just been super busy. Also, because I’m writing extensively on some ideas I’ve been pondering upon. But most importantly, the thing that’s been keeping me from blogging, is the university stress.

Aah yes. The time in the life of every teenager that immigrates to a country where they have the choice to either become a doctor, or an engineer. The time where the teenager says, “What if I want to be a pilot Dad?” and the dad says, “Beta, Pakistani immigrants don’t become pilots. They become doctors. Save lives. Or engineers. Make equipment that save lives.” And lo and behold the kid is gone, into an unfamiliar territory of numbers and figures that he grows accustomed to.

Now this isn’t necessarily my story. I don’t want to become a pilot. I have a fear of heights. That also crosses out “Batman” from my career goals but that’s a different story. I primarily want to be an author. Story telling is my forte and I think I do it pretty well. But again, its not really a stable cause of income. Unless, you’re John Green or JK Rowling and mind you, they got success in the latter part of their lives too.

Also, a Pakistani father would not give his daughter’s hand in marriage for a guy who “writes.” Oh no. He wants those doctors and engineers too. Oh yeah.

But this, demeaning ideology in our society, that doctors and engineers are the only ones who make money is ridiculous. I mean c’mon. People’s dreams get shattered because someone else makes the decision that photography isn’t a viable source of income and that the kid should put down the camera and pick up a textbook.

Same thing with authors and artists. I’m not saying these professions guarantee a sustainable quality of life, but at least one might feel contented in what they do.

The problem is that middle class families in Pakistan are under the influence of there being a two profession lifestyle. The government board has a pre medical and pre engineering program in the Intermediate studies. Pakistan has around 17 schools for Engineering and only 2 well renowned schools for the Arts. Do we see this polarization of interests or not?

Then we complain that Pakistanis lack creativity.

Strings is a great example for my final point. Anwar Maqsood, a famous writer and television actor from the golden age of Pakistan television has a son named Bilal. He and some friends started a band in College. But swaying away from the orthodox way of pursuing a musical career by dropping out, Maqsood and his posse finished College, acquired their degrees and carried their passion for music. Now they’re one of the biggest bands in Pakistan.

If you have a talent that you think is distinct enough for the world to appreciate, then don’t let 4 years of school define if it’s worth pursuing or not. Get up and paint that picture, or write that story or click that photograph. Because if you don’t do it, then someone else will. And you’ll just be another example of a dream crushed.

I applied to six different universities this year for Electrical Engineering. I'm not really fond of the program but I think I'll do fine in it. But my train doesn't stop there. If I crush my dream of being an author right here, then I never had it in me in the first place. Writing is what I like, and I'll continue to write, even if I'm an engineer or a doctor. Because my dad says, 'Every great thing isn't easy, and every easy thing isn't great.'

Take it easy folks.

Peace.

Twitter: @ItsNazar 

Instagram: @ItsNazar96

A Letter To My Country

On December 16th 2012, my family and I had migrated to Canada. 

This year is my second anniversary in Canada, and it was welcomed with a rather sad incident in Peshawar. 

For it, I decided to write my sentiments and leave a letter to Pakistan, the country that gave me more than it knows.

This goes out for the victims of the Peshawar massacre on 16th December 2014 and their families, for it is the families that are the real victims. 

Dear Pakistan,

I’m sitting in a chair in the Pickering Public Library, with a laptop on my lap. Its quiet. Too quiet. I hope you still remember me, for I haven’t forgotten you for a moment. Even though some time has lapsed since we’ve met, I still remember you. Quite fondly if I say so myself. 

You’ve taught me a lot my dear country, more than many of my teachers have. More than the education I’ve acquired or the lessons I’ve learned. You’ve taught me something that is unteachable, you’ve taught me how to hope. 

When Pakistan cricket team was on the edge of defeat, I hoped. When a suicide bomber attacked a market, I hoped. Whenever a corrupt politician stole from your helpless treasures, I hoped. Maybe I was naïve, or maybe you’re just that much important to me. But I hoped every time you went through something difficult, because that’s all you could give me. 

You taught me faith too. In a land where people kill in the name of religion, you taught me that my religion isn’t to blame, it’s the people that live it for their own means. If today in Canada, I wake up and go to the mosque everyday, it’s because of you. It’s because I still imagine the time when the Adh’aan resonated in your atmosphere and you told me to stop playing and worship my Lord. 

You taught me brotherhood. You gave me a family within my friends and friends within my family. You taught me how hard it is to find good friends, and how to keep them close once I do. You taught me to forgive them if they made mistakes and you taught me to apologise if I was wrong. I am envious of my friends today. They get to see you more often than I do. But I also feel sorry for them. They take you for granted, as I always did. They will know once they leave your luxuries, like I did.

You gave me so much, but I gave you nothing in return. My people and I have left you helpless. We bloody your soil everyday, we spit on you, litter your gardens, curse you, damn you and think of new and inventive ways to hurt you. But you still stand. Your flag still hoisted upon our helms, you stand. You’re unconditional love for us is like a mother’s for a child; it  gives more than it receives. 

For all that, I will always be indebted. 

Two years ago at this very time I was boarding a plane to leave you permanently. My eyes were still damp from the goodbyes and my heart was still aching. Two years later, I sit on this table, eight thousand miles away from you feeling the same way. The ruthless oppressors have yet again left your garden bare and stole the roses from your bouquet. I am helpless, as I always was. 

But I still haven’t forgotten your teachings, my dear country. I still hope for a better tomorrow. I still pray for your prosperity to the Lord you introduced me too. I still tell my friends to respect you the way you respect them. Because, if we don’t then who will? 

I am currently very far away from you. I’m entering a house I call home only from the tongue. Because the home is where the heart lies, and my heart is still with you. 

I will make you proud one day. I promise.

Love,

M. Nazar Syed

Twitter: @itsNazar
Instagram: @itsNazar96

The Bench (Short Story)

My crutches sank deep into the muddy grass, the result of a downpour last night. Without tumbling face first into the mud, I yanked them out— it must have rained until morning because the puddles in the garden could still be seen as the day’s sun was about to set. I managed to make my way to the rocky path. The ashen colored trail of pebbles led me to a bench overlooking a mesmerizing pond.

I trotted along the trail down to the bench and sat there with a great sigh. I pulled the magazine out from under my arm and set it down beside me while examining the water in front. I loved sitting on this bench, looking across the pond at life and nature. I saw the water swaying slowly along its way towards the edge of the pond and then back and the flock of ducklings swimming proudly and following their mother. One of the ducks had trouble catching up and quacked at its mother to wait. The beauty of language could be seen flowing through these wordless birds somehow able to convey their message across.

Fall was upon us. The changing colors of the leaves indicated it wasn’t long before the huge oak tree that shadowed my bench would be bare and naked again. I looked up and examined the patterns nature offered me, but not until recently had I began to appreciate it.

My train of thought had taken its toll when I noticed that a woman stepped out from the building I came from and headed my way. I decided to act like I was busy reading the magazine I brought. I could hear the woman inching closer to my area and it wasn’t long before she was in my presence. Her footsteps halted and I broke my gaze from a Mercedes Benz to look into two beautiful crystal blue eyes. A gorgeous face was looking back at me with a warm glow and a soft smile that somehow lit a kindling fire in my heart. I didn’t know what was happening or where this woman came from, but she seemed familiar; like a half recalled memory I just couldn’t remember

It was a moment before we spoke. “Can I grab a seat here?” she asked. She pointed at the pond, “I love the view.” I happily obliged and pulled the crutches towards myself. She sat down and crossed her legs. I sunk my head back into my magazine, pretending to examine the nifty new features of this Mercedes, only to look at this woman from the corner of my eye.

“What happened to your leg?” she inquired pointing at the cast that wrapped my left leg like a cocoon.

“Car accident.” I replied. Usually people find car accidents fascinating tales to revisit so I told her mine. “It happened a month ago actually. I totaled my car and ended up here. It’s not too bad. My cast will be off in a few days and I’ll be out of here.”

“Oh, so is that why you’re going through a catalogue of cars?” I looked down and saw the shiny Mercedes Benz peering back at me.

“Precisely,” I lied. It would take me years before I could buy this car but she didn’t have to know that. I surveyed her face. There was Band-Aid concealing a bruise across her forehead and some scratch marks that were at the healing stages near her cheek. It only felt right to ask her a question because she asked me one.

“Does your cut have a story too?” I asked jokingly while flashing a smile. She felt her Band-Aid on her forehead and chuckled.

“Same story as yours. My accident wasn’t very bad, at least not for me. I was sitting passenger side and my husband on the driving seat. He got the worst blow; I was pretty safe to be honest.” I inspected her left hand and saw the wedding ring sparkling like the water in the pond before us. It felt heart wrenching. I felt further questioning her would build some conversation and we’d have something to talk about other than sitting awkwardly staring at ducks.

“So I guess you’re here because of your husband?”

“Oh yes, he’s in ward C. Whenever I visit, I like to come here and sit down, catch some fresh air and escape the dangerously fast world out there. Y’know?” Her voice cracked in the end, but I knew. The time that I spent in this hospital had really opened up my eyes over what’s important and what’s temporary. This is exactly why I sit here, to regain the composure of my thoughts that the cruel world had damaged.

“Ward C you say? I’m in ward C too. Are you Harry’s wife?” Harry was my neighbor in ward C. His bed was right next to mine, and we used to chat for hours. He would tell me about his wife and kids and how someday he’d introduce me to his family.

“No,” she replied. Her eyes started to water and her voice broke on that one syllable. She pursed her lips while holding back her tears before breaking into a sob and covering her face in her hands. I was confused.

“I’m sorry… um…” I didn’t know her name. This conversation was turning into a disaster.

“Cathy,” she said.

“Cathy, Is there anything I can do?” I didn’t know if I should rest my hand on her back or let her cry like that. I was fighting this dilemma in my head when she gave me a horrifying look. I pulled my hand that was about to rest on her back when I noticed something.

A sparkling stone shined on a finger on my left hand that seemed like a wedding ring. I could have sworn it wasn’t there before. She looked at it and then at me. She saw the perplexing look I wore. She touched my ring with her wedding ring. They looked awfully similar to each other.

“You don’t remember John?” How did she know my name? My head was hurting almost immediately.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?” I startled and my crutches fell.

“The doctor, she said she you’d be better. When will you be better John, when will you remember?” She seemed torn between the ring and me. She had grabbed my hand and her fingers were intertwining with mine. “I’m tired. Tired of coming here every day hoping to bring you back. You’re here, but you’re not. John please, I want you to come back to me.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” I jerked her hand out of mine and was shouting at this point. I don’t remember the last time I had screamed this loud. I don’t remember the last I had been this nervous. I don’t remember the last time my heart beat so fast in a conversation. I don’t remember…

“The accident John. I was there. We were there. It hit you so hard on the head. Oh God your head.” She went into repeated sobs. “Please come back. Please remember who I am. Please come back to me John. Please…” I was gasping for air by this point. I heard people hurrying towards us. Two nurses and a guard. “They’re coming John. Please come back to me. Tell them you’re ok. Tell them you remember, for God’s sake!” I was losing her. I had no idea what she was saying. The aching pain in my head was soaring towards my eyes. I grabbed my head in my hands but instead of hair, I felt cloth. I was stunned. What was going on? My head was bandaged together tightly to cover up something. An injury, a wound?

My vision began to shake. I was losing control over my thoughts and body. I could still hear her though, sobbing, begging. Expecting me to come back to some reality. She told me to remember the ring. I didn’t even know how it got there. She asked me to remember our vows. I don’t even remember of making any. The sounds magnified in my head, and I tried to block them out. Every noise pierced my ear, be it the rustling of the leaves or the quacking of the ducks. I opened my eyes to see but I saw nothing; I had become blind. It was all dark. The noises started to fade; it was becoming silent. It all came to a standstill; it all became peaceful…

The water in the pond glistened gloomily in the twilight. The ducklings quacked, as they followed their mother around the pond. One of them seemed to be a little slow as it quacked to tell its mother to slow down, which she did. The beauty of language could be seen flowing through these wordless birds somehow able to convey their message across. I peered beside me and saw a woman devastated. She was crying and sobbing with her face in her hands.

The chilly autumn wind blew away the hair from her face and she clasped her hands together, revealing her appearance. I saw a gorgeous face looking back at me with a fiery glow but a sad smile. Cheeks wet with tears that had been shed recently. She wiped her tears on her sleeve and looked straight in to my eyes. I stared back into two beautiful crystal blue eyes that seemed to be damp with aching sadness. She looked at me the way the duck looked at her duckling and sat there waiting for something. Something that was slow and not fast enough to catch up perhaps, waiting for her duck to come back to her, just waiting.

Top 10: Favourite Movies of All Time

Well this is something new I’ve decided to start. There always Top 10s of something going around on the interweb, and I think it’s the right time for me to get my feet wet in that puddle. So after much consideration, and a lot of thought, I bring to you, my TOP 10 FAVOURITE MOVIES OF ALL TIME.

Now, this is probably the hardest list I’ve ever made. Well, this might quite possibly be the only list I’ve made, but lets not get into that. Point is, I gave it a lot of thought and this is what I came up with. Another thing that should be fairly obvious, but I’ll still point out, is that this list is completely my own opinion and based on the movies that I’ve seen. I can't evaluate a movie I haven’t seen. That means no Godfather movies, Star Wars or Lord of the Rings… sorry guys.

Alright let’s get to it.

10) 500 Days of Summer

Ok this movie, is deemed as one of the best romantic comedies ever. I concur with that statement. This is probably the most realistic portrayal of a relationship I’ve seen in Hollywood. This is as real as it gets people, that’s why it’s made a spot on my list.

9) The Matrix (Only the first one)

Aaah, the red pill or the blue pill. After seeing its sequels, I just wanted pills for Xanax. Let’s pretend they don’t exist for a while. This movie was revolutionary for it’s time and it still has the longevity for years to come. I saw it the other day and I assure you, its still amazing.

8) The Shawshank Redemption

Probably the best underrated movie ever. I mean wow; this movie dropped my jaw on so many occasions. This movie probably has a very intense climax, very quotable dialogues and Morgan Freeman. Morgan Freeman is always a win.

7) Fight Club

This was the first David Fincher directed feature I saw. This was a movie that I had to see twice to fully understand what had happened. Tyler Durden has been an influence ever since and he will punish me for breaking his first rule.

6) The Avengers

Lets face it, this was one of the best comic book movies ever. Marvel is yet to produce a movie we can't stand to see. This one was a gem. I remember going to the cinemas with my pals and seeing it in 3D. The Avengers was actually the first movie I saw in 3D. Needless to say, it was amazing and left an impression that has stayed with me over the years. Shakespeare in the park anyone?

5) Forrest Gump

Oh boy, my life has been a box of chocolates ever since I saw this spectacular piece of cinema. This movie made me cry, laugh and ultimately feel very happy about life. If a movie can touch all emotions like that, it definitely deserves a spot on my list. And that's all I have to say about that.

4) Shutter Island

I remember when I saw this movie with my cousin some three years ago. Him and I pulled an all-nighter and saw this movie together, pausing it at intervals to discuss what was going to happen next. Man oh man, this movie will definitely give you something to talk about for days to come.

3)  Lion King

The only animated movie on the list. It’s rated so high because of how timeless it is. It’s songs are still stuck with me today and its characters are still admirable. This 1994 classic deserves all the praise and much more. Hakunah Matata!!

2) Inception

Its time to get into the Nolan zone. Christopher Nolan is my favorite director. His movies are so thought provoking and meticulously crafted, that one wonders how spectacles like them are created. Same is the case with Inception. The concepts and ideas in this movie were executed so brilliantly, that I was left mind boggled when the movie ended. Of course the end is something to talk about as well. The top keeps spinning and spinning and spinning…

Before I unveil my favourite movie of all time, I’d like to call out a few movies that are also my favourite but couldn’t make it to the list.

Honourable Mentions:

The Bourne trilogy, Interstellar, Perks of being a Wallflower, The Prestige, Zodiac, Seven, The Departed, Wolf of Wallstreet, The Green Mile, Saving Private Ryan, The Silence of The Lambs, The Dark Knight Rises, Cast Away and Gone Girl.

1) The Dark Knight

Well, what do I say about this one. This is, without a doubt, my most watched movie ever. I’ve seen every scene atleast 10 times. This movie introduced me to Chistopher Nolan, and I’ve stayed a fan ever since. I don’t think, a better comic book movie has ever been put to screen, and after seeing Batman & Robin, all hope had been lost. But Nolan came through. This one is a fine piece of cinema, a timeless classic already.

I’d just like to state, that these aren’t the Ten Commandments, meaning this list is always subject to change. Maybe in a couple of years, it’ll be totally different. But for now, this is it!

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Interstellar: Review

"We used to look up at the sky and wonder at our place in the stars. Now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt." - Cooper

There are two kinds of movies in the world, normal movies and Christopher Nolan movies. The normal movies would sometimes be good and sometimes they’d be horrible. Christopher Nolan movies will always be good if not great and will never let you down. In this day and age where the directors are the stars of the movie, Christopher Nolan has definitely made a name for himself. After seeing Interstellar, it’s safe to say that the mind screwing director is back in action with another hell of a film.

Interstellar takes place a few decades or maybe a century in to the future. In this future, our resources are scarce. Mankind has been forced to go back to the olden times and become farmers and grow the only sustainable crop left; corn. There are frequent dust storms that will ultimately be the end of us because that is essentially what is killing us. Cooper, our protagonist, is an engineer and ex-pilot for NASA who is now a farmer as well. He is sent out on a mission to go through a wormhole and find a habitable planet in another galaxy that may be the salvation of the human race.

I cannot put into words how immaculate the cinematography for this movie is. Once the countdown began and we were off to space, jaws were dropped. If you thought Gravity was a visual spectacle, then you’re in a for a treat with this one. Christopher Nolan was able to capture the vast emptiness of space and darkness that comes with it. How everything that is visible in space is actually light-years away, Nolan made sure that the audience knew they were light-years away. It was truly awe-inspiring.

Something else that Christopher Nolan was able to do brilliantly was to capture the elements of time. Once you’re travelling at the speed of light and have gone into hyper sleep, time will move very different for you as oppose to the people on earth and Christopher Nolan did a fantastic job to illustrate that as we had seen him do it before in Inception. Time and space were the two key elements that Christopher Nolan explored in this film, and they were extravagantly clear. Also, the emotional pull of the movie was very well executed, all though sometimes shaky. The father daughter bond between Cooper and Murph was very human and touchy. 

The performances were expectedly amazing. Matthew McConaughey, the winner of the Best Actor at the Academy's last year brought his A game in this movie again. Anne Hathaway brought the brains and the soul to the film and Micheal Caine… well he’s Micheal Caine, he’s going to be amazing. The surprise performance for me was from Jessica Chastain who really stood out and shined. Hans Zimmer’s musical score was so hauntingly beautiful, it made you feel like you were in space. When the situation was tense, you could hear the tension flowing through the Organ music that filled the speakers in the theatre. It made the experience that much better.

Now this movie is definitely praise worthy, but not a masterpiece. There were a few things that didn’t fully connect with me. For starters, this film is complicated. This movie presents really bold ideas and grand theories, but its very hard to follow along with them. There was a lot of talk about physics and astrophysics, and if one has no knowledge about either, they can get lost. Although the film does explain itself fairly well, it’s a lot of information to grasp. Also, there is something that happens around the 2/3 mark of the movie that might pull away some of it’s viewers. If that thing doesn’t click with you, you might just come out of the movie not liking it. It clicked for me and I came out a happy camper.

For a movie that spans three hours, I felt nothing. The pacing was perfect, the effects were mind blowing and the story, although a little shaky at times, was very well thought out and almost perfectly executed. Irrespective of if you like the movie or not, you have to appreciate it’s ambition and the heights it tried to achieve. The only way to grasp everything this movie has to offer is to watch it on the biggest screen possible. This movie demands multiple viewing of itself to fully comprehend all it’s themes and ideas, an exercise I will do without any hesitation. One thing is for sure, Christopher Nolan cannot make a bad movie.

8.5/10

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