Those of you for whom nightly retreats mean rummaging through Netflix ( and the likes...) for few moments of escape, and shutting the world behind you for few precious hours (if you are lucky), you have arrived at the right place. As much I hate the fact that my before-sleep hours are trapped in this unending loop of online movie prowls, another part, the one that gets satiated by the good watches, cannot thank this luxury enough. I call it a luxury, because I am not bound by the rhythms of life that an average mortal is obliged to fall into. With nowhere to head first thing in the morning, or no particular rush to pack a sleepy kid to a real school( just yet), my mornings follow a rhythm of its own. And the late the nights, the longer the morning sleep.
Sadly enough, falling into this routine has me let go off my late night readings. I see my last purchase, Cynthia’s good looking, and exciting ( from what I recollect from where I left) book, ‘The Nest’, lying unattended on my bedside table, and my heart aches every single time my eyes are drawn to its beautiful egg shell blue cover. Because coax and coax I may, but I cannot even come close to lifting the book, forget reading few lines from it. Let’s just say, I need some time off from everything, some recovery time, from the onslaught of taking off to places. Packing bags, waiting in security queues, marinating my back on car seats, doing the touristy things, eating out, and wiping arse of tiny human in car seats too, if you please. Did that for a month. Non-stop. I want to say I am done, so I can get back to my normal life. Discipline myself to finish the half-done, half-baked drafts, one at a time. That demands time, and focus. But I am afraid, that would have to wait its turn. Because another bout of Marry-go-round is lurking round the corner. I am hardly complaining though. I mean who wouldn't like to be whisked away to exciting places every second or third month? But there is this searing feeling of guilt and worry that’s growing within me - a part that seems to be dissing the 'plan.' With an increasing fear of losing sight of my goal, I am flirting with the idea of a writing retreat, from where I can operate as I wish - watch life in technicolors, dream, create, and dream some more, while remaining invisible to the world - a 'hideout.' Although right at this moment, my girl’s red and white stripped tent filled with odds and ends, seems like my best bet. Then sometimes, I dream of teleporting to some faraway land, cancelling the noise with ear phones plugged deep into my eardrums, and not caring about thoughts that keep colliding with each other in my mind. But then again, I am a homebody. These four walls that surround me, make me, me! This is who I am. I love this space. I love the snug welcome it treats me with every time I am back from somewhere.
You wouldn’t believe, but this is what I had set out to do here. To talk about homes, decor, movies, things I have been treating myself to, things that transport me to a world of dreams. Netflix - the friend and the foe. I hadn’t thought of this as the title, but I was headed on that direction I must admit. So, Netflix, Lust Stories, Home decor shows. There. I listed them. This way I will remain more focused. I think.
What I had set out to say earlier (just before the digression) was that, I am again in that phase, that huge part of me that is a home decor enthusiast. Lately, with all of my writing plans thrown out of the window, I have been binging on one show on home decor after the other and like always, my head is amassed with my own decor plans for my rooms. TLC is what I have been hearing a lot lately, and DIY is music to my ear. It is almost a cuss word in my household though, with a husband who is severely allergic to anything DIY. I however, am all for throwing in your own creativity wherever I see a possibility. So there, next thing you know is, I have ordered a bunch of wall decals for a particular sore wall in my girl’s room that badly needed some...another favorite word...'treatment.’ ‘Home Doctor’ should thank me for coming up with all the right words in this post. Alright alright I won’t push it. Okay just one more, ‘I am feeling ‘emulsional’ right now!!’ Heck!
Then comes Lust Stories - four short films by four leading directors of Bollywood under one banner made for Netflix. Fortunately, I grabbed it on the very day it was released. God knows how much I hate to wake up late to anything film-related! Particularly when it becomes the talk of the town and I am yet to find out about it. This timely consumption however got me sitting on top of it. Being the selfless person that I am, I instantly spread the word around over WhatsApp groups, barring the family and 'family-like' ones for obvious reasons. These films wiped off most of my frustrations with never finding the right movie to watch over Netflix! Sounds like a familiar scenario? Well, now you know what to watch. Impressed with the great execution of the films, I took to Twitter, well, almost took to Twitter. But turned out, I was probably the last one amongst the early birds. Twitter was already rioting with ‘hashtag lust story’ so bad that after a while my mind got attuned to seeing the two words strung tightly together at all times. ‘Luststories’ is what remained of it. But the good news is, either way, these films will entertain you, engage you, tickle you, embarrass you, try you. But one thing they will never do is - waste your time.
Interestingly, the stories have incited curiosity even within the movie-novice circles ( Dear God, how do they live!). They seem to be asking funny, but relevant questions, and so am I. I read a quote by writer Arundhati Roy today in the passing that says, ‘The point of a writer is to be unpopular,’ and I didn’t have to look too far to realize what she meant. Do treat yourself with Lust Stories. They are the forerunners in the unpopular category because they ask the difficult questions. They throw flood light in places we conveniently choose to overlook. They are worth it because they urge you to think and arrive at your own conclusions.
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