The movie that made me cry.

You know how they say that change is the only constant thing in our lives. That this moment, right here is going to pass as quickly as it came yet it will leave a mark in someone's life before vanishing into oblivion. That time changes everything, every person. But it becomes all the more miraculous when you actually identify the gradual change in yourself.

After waiting for months, I finally got a chance to watch The Fault in Our Stars on the big screen today. For those of you who are still unaware, the movie is based on the bestselling novel written by John Green. A novel which breathed life into my heart with every word, every line and every page. A novel which moved me to tears in one chapter and comforted me warmly in another.

I knew I would cry while watching the movie too. It was as natural as the sun rising from the east and setting in the west. But what I had not expected of myself is that I would hate to see many people sitting in the hall watching the movie for which I'd waited so long. The moment I entered, my heart was awash by extreme possessiveness. I felt angry and sad as I had to share it with those many people. The novel was something I loved wholeheartedly, like something personal, only to be felt by me, only to be loved by me. I felt that my personal space was being trespassed by those who were there just because they had nothing else to do on a weekend, who could not even keep their stupid cell phones on silent for two hours. For me, it was a lot more than that. It was like giving countenance to the characters I fell in love with months ago. It was like meeting Hazel Grace and Augustus Waters personally.

It's silly, I know! But I don't want to make sense right now.

The bottom line is that I have changed. From a girl who used to wonder why her mom cries while watching soppy movies to being a girl who has subconsciously started doing the same. I never felt like this before, never cursed people around me for intruding one of my favorite stories and never felt too possessive for fictitious characters. Sometimes you are unsure whether you've changed for the better and this is one such time.

Also, this is the reason why I hate to share my copy of novels with anyone.

_________

P.S: 1. The movie is excellent.

2. During the interval, I ran into one of my batch mates from college and she said she was not enjoying the movie at all. -_-

Okay? Okay.

Sleepy eyes, late night reading, a gripping novel whose end is feared, incessantly turning of pages, biting nails, getting deeper into the life of characters, reminding yourself, time and again that it is just fiction and then like a snap, facing the end only to survive the book hangover, all by yourself. How terribly I had missed this routine!

The Fault in our Stars by John Green was a small package of incredible life wrapped inside an adorable blue cover. Though just for two days, it gave me my most favorite routine back. This book is not just a reader's delight..it is an unparalleled treasure which I am glad to have found. To say the least, I cried my eyes out when I finished this amazing piece of fiction.

You know, it is probably going to be the only book ever, whose climax was known to me before I ordered my copy and yet it did not affect my experience, at all. Of course I was really angry and disturbed when the main part was disclosed to me. (People should learn when to write 'Spoiler Alert' while reviewing a book or a movie. It is NEVER written after spoiling the plot. Please..show some mercy!)

Anyway, the news is that a movie based on this novel is going to hit the cinemas in early June this year...somewhere near my birthday. I don't know whether I'm ready to handle this story on the big screen but I'm sure as hell, excited to watch it.
I know I would have to carry a big box of tissues to the theater. Gosh! What have you done to me John Green.

________

P.S: The heading of the post is from the novel.

The Lunch Box: Spoilers Alert.

While returning from the cinema hall today in the evening, my mind jostled in a haphazard stream of thoughts. One moment, I shared the experience with my friends on Whatsapp like how much I loved the movie, its story line, the characters and their unparalleled acting and in the next, I stepped into an oblivion state where I just wanted to contemplate, refusing to get distracted by the presence of a slender old man, murmuring something incessantly and begging for money at the traffic signal or by those little kids offering a stick of rose or sometimes, just their desperate needy look, or even by the light drizzle, highlighted through the head lights of numerous vehicles.
Amidst the noise of a monotonous rushing life, I sat there in an auto, stared into space, in the darkness hovering behind the street lights...in an oblivion state, wiped off irrelevant fragmented thoughts and brooded over the beautiful thing I watched. That which made me calm, relaxed even when I was stuck in the middle of Delhi traffic.

The moment I walked out of the movie hall, I knew I was going to write about it on Mirage. But what? Certainly not a review. I'm not really good at reviewing things. I have realized this lately. Moreover, I believe that this movie deserves something better than just a plain two-line review. It was moving, undoubtedly but what was that one thing, if you may ask, that made it so special for me?

The movie was real. Very real! The narration...how randomly beautiful it was. The part where the male lead writes about the reason why he spent the previous night watching his late wife's favorite TV show, right there, all I wanted was to keep listening to the remarkable narration. I felt I became was a part of the story. That small apartment with pale walls, the narrow passage where clothes hung on a string, the dining table where the mother secretly read those letters, the kitchen where she cooked delicacies...I lived there. That little girl with two pigtails, jumping carefully across the big puddle to avoid muck on her neat school dress and turning back to wave goodbye to her mother...I was her. I so was! Then, I became her mother...a simple housewife, essaying to woe her husband by making delicious lunch for him but ending up discovering the emotions she always longed for, in her friendship with an old man. The old man who devoured various dishes made by her. And it was all because of a wrongly delivered lunch box or perhaps, rightly received.

There is not a good, satisfying reason to convince that I was able to connect with the main characters but somewhere beneath the story line, realism of the movie struck me more than anything else and made the experience even more fantastic. It was warm and comforting. Yes! Comforting. There was a settling charm in the story which made me feel at ease, kept me intact and gripped till the end. Till that subtle happy end.

Honestly, I don't remember the last time I watched a movie which had such an impact on me...which made me write a long blog post. But I guess, this is the reason why I cherish watching The Lunch Box.

An excellent movie.
Indeed!
______

In other news, I am leaving for a three day holiday with my cousins to Lansdowne, Uttarakhand, this weekend. Apart from the regular holiday stuff, I shall be carrying a brand new Monopoly. Yes, that super awesome board game which consumed hundreds of hours of our adorable childhood.
:D

Pretty excited, I am. Yay!