My Publicized Life

I had the opportunity to listen to a music CD of 'The Laya Project' a few weeks ago. I had never heard of it before, but was in the mood to try something different and this was highly recommended by a friend. No sooner than I heard the music I knew I HAD to watch the film, and no sooner than the first few reels were down, I knew I HAD to attempt a review :) So here goes! Its hard to pin the Laya project down to a stereotype. Its an unconventional film, much more than a music video and not quite a regular documentary. For a film marketed as being shot on the shores of six nations affected by the tsunami, the approach it takes is surprisingly different. You naturally expect it to highlight the grim realities of life...scenes of devastation, gritty tales of hardships and survival against the odds. But what you get instead is the raw beauty of nature. Gorgeous landscapes, glorious sunsets, rolling mists and brilliantly hued skies. And music. Melodious, haunting and earthy, it seems

There are those refreshingly eye-opening pieces of writing that you chance upon from time to time. Pieces that, by dint of their sheer persuasion and clarity awaken you to points of view that you didn't know existed. That make you sit up and go "Oh! Why didn't I think of that myself" The piece that I'm referring to is not one of those ;-) The article in question is the latest by my old friend and all-round excellent individual Pushkar . One of those chaps who, apart from having humongous brains that spill out on the sidewalk each time he shakes his head, is blessed with a gifted sense of humour, and whose penchant for translating his numerous movie experiences into highly entertaining (and usually fairly accurate) blog posts is only exceeded by his newfound penchant for fatherhood. Which is why I was shocked to read his rather lukewarm take on some of the movies that I personally consider to be the Reel God's Greatest Gift To Humanity. So for the first time in

Ok, so lets first get the obvious out of the way. The blog has died. Not a pleasant state of affairs, I know. But then there are few things unpleasanter than a chance glance upon a once closely-clasped-to-your-bosom thingy revealing the last entry dated December 25, 2008. An accurate description of the state of affairs would be, I believe, forlorn and woebegone. So here then, is an attempt at resurrection. No clue, really, if it will work. Sometime in the past 373.25 days, I think I managed to lose the writing habit entirely. And in a little corner of my head lurks the fear that these things, once lost, don't really return. But I guess that's a matter beyond me. I'll do what I have to, and leave the rest in the capable hands of the Woman Upstairs. (been trying shed the male chauvinist part of the MCP image for some time now) One of the things I've been thinking about off late, is the meetings with the DAV gang. Going into flashback mode, I was one of those kids that com