Lessons from Barbenheimer

 The past week since 21/07/2023 has been one of high intensity debates, reviews, observations and fun activities revolving around two films - Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer and Greta Gerwig's Barbie. The word Barbenheimer, a portmanteau of the titles of the two films has been coined by by the internet to discuss and partake in the conversations around these two much anticipated films of the year! For me, these discussions triggered many points of self-realisation which were pretty unpleasant.

1. The idea of shallowness

I have never played with Barbie or any kind of dolls so in the stereotypical manner, long before I had read about the movie Barbie, I had decided not to see it because I believed that I was not shallow! Well, I was proved wrong when I read the reviews and saw how shallow I was in judging something that I did not even know of. Well, the shallowness that I had associated with Barbie was me in fact! 

2. The grand idea of 'Nolan'

Another stereotype that is cringeworthy is assuming that anything by Nolan is obviously woke! Well, it is! And Nolan is a great story-teller but to decide long before the release of the films, that I would watch Oppenheimer and not Barbie, goes to prove that my assumptions were coloured and biased. Well, I am ashamed!

But this trend is seen among many peers and fellow people! An assumption that anything associated with Barbie is shallow (pardon by repeated usage of the word!) and the colour pink is detestable but anything associated with Nolan has to be intelligent and deep!

Well, I guess a doll is shallow but an atom bomb is worth it if we go by the comparisons of the objects that these two films focus upon. At the end of the day, both cause destruction - dolls on the inside and bombs on the outside (and inside too) if you know what I mean!

I hope that many of us have decided to move on beyond our judgmental attitudes and view everything with an open and kind mind. Have you seen the films yet?

Picture credit 1: Internet

Picture credit 2 & 3: Wikipedia

An ode to Wikipedia

When we began our research, the first writing advice given by my supervisor then was that we should not quote/cite from Wikipedia. His reason was that since it was something where anyone could edit the content, the authenticity was questionable. That was impressed upon my mind and I gave the same advice to my students. I altered my stand a bit and told them that they could start off reading their basic information from Wikipedia and then follow it up with the references given on the same page towards the end. Of course they love their Wikipedia and the depth of information it offers and I cannot but accept that fact. Wikipedia is easy, basic and comprehensive and quite useful for a beginner who is seeking information on any topic. But the copyleft philosophy of the website is something that is quite impressive - free for all to edit, contribute and use.

Piqued by curiosity on being a Wikipedia editor, I signed to become an editor and voila! the process was quite an easy one. I began editing content and then realised that one cannot be frivolous about the additions and deletions. Since the content is out there for everyone to read and cite, there is a greater responsibility associated with the same, I concurred.

But this present post is a dedication of love to Wikipedia for certain pet peeves of mine. Here it goes: In the recent years, say five years or so, the availability of films on various platforms has been mushrooming at a quicker pace and these have enabled people like me to access many films which were hitherto inaccessible. While I watch these films, mid-way I pause and quickly change the tab to Wikipedia and read the entire plot of the film. I know that this dampens the thrill of watching the plot unfold but not for me. I know the plot but like to watch how it has been handled by the director. And here, Wikipedia is something that succinctly provides the content for me - Not IMDB which is limited in content but good in rating; not the reviews which are mostly one-sided and not useful to know the storyline. But Wikipedia gives out the spoilers and the other sundry stuff which is quite interesting to read and is a separate thrill altogether.

Well, so I am armed with the exact storyline possessing full knowledge of the killer, the twists and other giveaways and I watch the film - with the same intensity if I were watching without knowing the storyline. And , Wikipedia has always been my faithful ally except in some cases where the information furnished is short and just a peek into the plot.

Well, Wikipedia is definitely the go-to place for me when it comes to reading film's storylines and spoilers.

Raising a toast to the humble Wiki and here's to many more Spoiler Alerts!

All images are from Wikipedia - the copyleft website!

Of pre-adolescent gods and demi-gods!

Growing up, I used to collect posters/pictures of actors, Aamir Khan and Madhuri Dixit obsessively. I had claimed that I liked them and had a diverse assortment of pictures (sourced and cut from popular magazines, Filmfare and Women's Era, among some) of the two which had multiple poses/expressions and clothing. Thinking of those times in the present make me seem a tad foolish because a) I had never watched any film of the two, b) I could not claim why I had liked them enough to collect many pictures and c) I was/am not a fan material. No one had the courtesy to even ask me why I had gone on a steadfast mission of collecting the pictures except my mom who believed that idolising anyone except Jesus was a crime!

Well, I collected and proclaimed my love for them. Their films were released and I did not know much about them because we did not have a TV. My only knowledge of these actors were their songs which I heard while passing by the tea-shops which blared their latest top hits and my friends who had the fortune of watching TV and creating envy in the mind of the naive little girl who believed that TV was the gift reserved for only some lucky households.

My love for stars and celebrities extended to cricketers as well - Kapil Dev! I vaguely remember the wild winning of the World Cup in 1983 - I was 3 and we had no TV but I remember maybe because of the adults (my father, uncle, neighbour) discussing the matches or my father reading aloud from the newspaper - The Times of India (when it was still worth its salt and not reduced to TOIlet!). I had also developed a fondness for Vivian Richards, the charming West Indies erstwhile captain! I had followed the lives of these celebrities who I had liked and got to know of the various dalliances - all through people who discussed them!

Today when I think back, I wonder how this all could come about - Kapil Dev had huge bunny teeth and had a horrible voice - the Palmolive ka jawab nahi! effect. Then the Television entered our lives. The enchantment with these celebrities started to wane. I started discarding the picture-cuttings of Aamir Khan and Madhuri Dixit. I had grown past the pictures and started watching their films. I liked some and disliked many but never let go of the fact that I liked Aamir Khan; Madhuri had completely worn off my mind and whenever I see Kapil Dev and Vivian Richards, I cannot stop myself from exclaiming, "I used to like them. They were my favourites."

Today, while reading The Hindu's sports column, the toothy smile of Kapil Dev and him jubliantly holding the 1983 World Cup made me travel to the time when I was a three-year old who liked Kapil Dev and wanted to meet him some day!

'96 - Gender fluidity and conversation beyond words

Last evening, the husband and I watched a Tamil film '96 starring Trisha Krishnan and Vijay Sethupathi. My sister had earlier nudged me to watch the film. I quote her, "Don't have high expectations. It's a simple film. Just sit back and enjoy." She was right about the film being simple but she was wrong about the high expectations. Watching films quite often, as audience, I guess we allow ourselves to imagine cliched dialogues and familiar situations; This cliche is what was absent in C. Prem Kumar's '96 - a nostalgic walk sans the melodrama and long tear-jerked dialogues. The film's power lies in the unspoken words and quiet moments interspersed with a powerful soundtrack. It was as if the lyrics of the songs were snatched from the minds of the audience.

'96's strength lies in C. Prem Kumar's treatment of the entire plot coupled with beautiful cinematography. The visuals in the introductory song was subtle, beautiful and set the tone of the film. But what captured my mind was the way the director broke down the roles of men and women. Ram (Vijay Sethupathi) was not the macho alpha-male who tries to prove his brawn and brain all the time - he acts feminine at times and does not fail to feel shy or cry when the situation arises. Similarly, Janu (Trisha Krishnan) is not the coy and gentle character - she takes the lead in the second half of the film and comes across as someone who does not hesitate to ask questions and chide Ram as the situation demands. The presence of her thali or meti does not interfere with the bond that is shared by the erstwhile lovers.

The entire second half of the film's tension lay in the premise of whether the erstwhile lovers will profess their love and probably make love - but Prem Kumar destroys those age old cliches and gently leads us through the night. Sometimes when nothing much is conveyed through words, the facial expressions and body language take over and this is precisely what happens in the film. I must confess that I break into tears quite easily and '96 was one such film where I was reduced to tears, not once or twice but during several instances - the tears were for the powerful lyrics of the first song, the thought that something might have happened but did not, the blink-and-miss situation when K. Ramachandran went to see Janaki Devi in her college and all the What ifs which were generously spread throughout the course of the plot. The word 'perhaps' is the tagline of the film for me - The perhaps and the what ifs caused the free flowing tears and I guess that would have been the cause of the many tears that were shed by the audiences who watched the film.

The tears also flowed for the bygone years which was so familiar to me while I was in my X, XI and XII standards. I fondly remembered the long walks in my school's corridors where boyfriends/girlfriends waited for a glimpse of their beloveds; the quiet, stolen glances in classes, the sharing of tiffins, the school uniform, the absolute lack of communication when someone is absent and no means of finding the reason, the cycle sagas, the hero pen, the splashing of the ink on the last last day of school, the innocence of first love and FLAMES - Prem Kumar brought every element of those days alive for me. It comes as no surprise that my batch was the batch of '97 - not very different from the batch of '96. I could identify every single character from my own school days and perhaps that's why the film moved me and the fact that I am so away from Tamil Nadu and everything familiar pushed those extra tears to fall. 

Coming of age with the Lipstick

My Facebook newsfeed is punctuated with different articles and posts condemning the recent censorship of the film with an intriguing title, Lipstick Under My Burkha. Right from the time this film was announced, I was awaiting the release of this one and much to my and my fellow cine-goers' dismay, the news of CFBC hit us hard. It stars some of my favourite actors and of course lipstick as a metaphor for desires, secret dreams and oodles of passion.

I could immediately connect to the title of the film especially the lipstick because lipstick is not just another cosmetic application which makes one feel good and sexy (if you please. Pardon the indulgence). I remember that while growing up, lipstick was something which was used during the annual day programmes. We needed to look our best and a bright pink lipstick which of course, only one used for all, became our most awaited part of dressing up. I used to like those lipsticks and often times annual day became important because of the whole make-up. That time lipstick was reserved for that one special day. Lipsticks were also laced with a quality of the forbidden -- I have heard my relatives mention, "Only women of lose moral character wear lipstick and walk around;" "Lipstick calls for attention when you walk down the road;" "Lipstick makes you stand out in the crowd and hence you become an easy target for men." And of course, lipstick was a forbidden fruit which will ruin me if I apply it on my lips!

Then came College where lipstick was seen as a class-specific item. Rich kids wore lipsticks whereas we middle-class 'simple' students pretended that wearing lipsticks means that the girls were rich, spoilt and usually dumb. Lipstick was never seen a tool for enhancing one's beauty which in turn will make one feel 'good.' My friend who belonged to an upper middle-class family regularly wore lipsticks and as it is usual with friends of that age, I started applying lipsticks whenever I went over to her place. I started experimenting with maroons, browns and the so-called earthy colours and also found my kind of lipstick - Matte and Earthy. I never wore them to College, except when we had some special function but then I did wear them whenever we hung out together. It felt special - the whole application and how it changed the way I looked and how it made me feel within. I admit it was a bit vain keeping in mind the beauty quotient. But mind you, I did not yet own any lipsticks. Once my friend gifted me a bright red lipstick for my birthday and man, was I thrilled. When I look back, it seems so funny to think that owning a lipstick was something that gave me happiness. Since the pocket-money I received was just about sufficient for my basic needs, a lipstick was a luxury.

Switch to my post-graduation days: I wore lipstick regularly and now I had a reasonable collection of browns and maroons. It was a co-education college and all of us in the M. A. class were seen as mature and independent-thinking men and women and the lipstick became an important part of my identity. I wore it every single day until . . . One of my friends with whom I had started spending a lot of time, asked me out of the blue, "Why do you wear lipstick? Why are you so much given to being artificial?" Man, I was stumped. I did not know what to say because no one had asked something like this to me. I was ashamed and apologetic for being vain and costemised instead of being 'natural and beautiful.' Those were the days of heady idealism and questioning everything and my friend was someone who challenged every norm of the society which was taken for granted. Why was I given to artificiality? Why was I engrossed in decking myself up? My friend also remarked, "My sisters don't wear lipstick. They still look beautiful. Why do you need something extra to make you look beautiful?" That was the last straw. I gave up wearing lipstick and threw away all the lipsticks I had owned at that time. My lips were free of artificiality. Oh! My friend also mentioned how lipsticks were made of lead and fish scales and that it poisoned the human body. I was afraid of dying. The lipsticks were now history.  My friend was happy and I assumed even I was . . . I further started criticising people for applying lipstick and being artificial.

I don't remember exactly when but gradually realised that one dresses up not for anyone else or for the love of showing off but to please one's own self. I guess it was then that I embraced the love of doing something because it gives a smile when I look into the mirror. It was then that I had again started applying lipstick. It made me fee beautiful and confident - ready to take on the day. And this time I had the resources and confidence to buy lipsticks and wear the same everyday. I stopped being bothered by the poison quotient, being artificial or even being called a bourgeois. I guess age and financial independence matters when decisions such as wearing lipsticks should be made. I still get 'those' looks from people who think that wearing lipstick is an undertone for a certain independence, a brashness, a symbol of arrogance and many others. And that is precisely why the film appeals to me because I think the film uses the metaphor of the lipstick to talk about the issues which women face just because they chose to dress up in a certain way -- read as 'going against the fixed and rigid norms of the majority of the patriarchal society.' It is quite startling to think that in spite of living in the 21 C, the lipstick can be seen as a symbol of arrogance and waywardness (only prostitutes wear bright lipsticks and walk around).

The film, I gauge, will also raise questions about the whole notion of dressing up to appeal to our own selves and take control of how and what women would like to portray themselves (dressing, sexuality and others) breaking the delicate shell of the so-called notions of the society. And like many others, I await the film and Konkona Sen Sharma.

What's your lipstick story?

Image courtesy:

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

Watching Kabali in Goa

I cannot say that I am a fan of the Superstar Rajinikanth but I like to join in the excitement that surrounds him and his films. Having been in Chennai for the better part of my life, a Rajini release did not incite any excitement in me. I did have friends and acquaintances who went insane over tickets and detailed planning on first day, first show matters but I remained aloof from all of them.

Then marriage happened.

Along with marriage, change of location happened.

Then Rajinikanth became one of the synonyms for home and Chennai.

It is always said and largely believed that one starts craving for home in different ways, some of which are quite unusual and one of those was Rajini. Heaping praise for the superstar and getting a high talking about him were aspects of me that baffled me. Very easily, I could turn from a demure teacher to a crazed fan of the Superstar when my students criticised him. I was always a fan of good acting and films that were close to reality. But Rajini was beyond the circumference of my usual like of films. He is a phenomenon worth studying - a vortex that one gets pulled into willingly.

But for the first time catching a Rajini film after two days of its release was something I did not expect that I would end up doing (I guess earning and having one's one own money in addition to living out of Chennai does that!) I JUST WATCHED A RAJINI FILM YESTERDAY!

Watching Kabali was an entirely different experience in Goa. The theatre was housefull (what else!) and almost the entire hall was filled with Tamil speaking people. It was definitely a joy to behold Tamil Nadu in Goa! But alas! my joy was short-lived because many of the Tamils here were only Tamils by birth and not spirit. The children were not as fluent in the language and hardly knew the charisma and wonder of Rajini. They sat there placid and unmoved while I was jumping and hooting in glee. I was quite sad that I was not able to whistle otherwise I would have shrieked with full power. The claps and hooting were only present when Rajini first made an appearance in the film after which the spirit slowly ebbed away. I was quite excited and beside myself and could hardly contain myself whenever the superstar crossed his leg or uttered, "Magizhchi," (translated joy) but everyone around me were unmoved.

For me Rajini is not Rajini but my years of growing up in Chennai, my memories of school, sightings of huge cutouts of superstar when any of his films were released, friends bunking classes to watch first day first show of Rajini's films - In short HOME. Home means many things to me but on this occasion, home was Rajinikanth and Chennai. This explains why I was a bit low when I did not spot any cutouts, life-size posters or any merchandise of the superstar - In Goa and for Goa, Kabali was just another film (from South India). I went to watch the film not because it was a Rajini film (I also watched Mani Rathnam's O Kadhal Kanmani on the second day of its release) but because I wanted to vicariously experience the spirit of my growing up years and memories of distant teenage.

Needless to say, I enjoyed the film - the complete package with popcorn, hooting, clapping, standing up and applauding the man and also shedding copious tears when the superstar misses his wife whom he assumes to be dead.

Thalaivar - magizhchi!

New found tastes

Taste and sensations are peculiar attributes that have a mind of its own. Recently, I was introduced to Bimli, a sour tasting fruit and Wiki tells me that the botanical name is Averrhoa bilimbi. Now, I am quite fond of the tangy flavour - tamarind, raw mangoes and the like have always held a special place in my tongue. Bimli is something like that. I realise that there are so many flavours and items that one has not tasted and perhaps will never taste! One of my colleagues had lovingly prepared Bimli pickle and asked us to sample her culinary prowess, and I being the tangy-loving entity lapped up the pickle with a zest that only tangy-lovers could comprehend. I quickly made note of the recipe and tried it at home. It wasn't as good as it had ought to be nevertheless, I could see that I was not as lazy as I had thought I might be.

Bimli happened to me quite late in life. I could not imagine that I had spent so many years without tasting this fruit. I think that sometimes it would have been growing in the vicinity of our house but we had never bothered. My husband knows this fruit well and tells me that every house in Kerala has the Bimli (Pulinchika) tree. I wonder how many such fruits, trees and tastes are unknown to us in spite of sharing living space with us. I wish I could identify these gems and die happily in the knowledge of having partaken of the many wondrous tastes of nature.

On another note, I saw a movie in my phone for the first time - The Bengali Night, a French film, set in Bengal of the 1930s. It was weird to see Hugh Grant so frail and gaunt. The film also led me to one of my favourite authors - Mircea Eliade. The film is an adaptation of his autobiographical novel, Maitreyi. The film took me on a wild journey of the years where love was a simple look, holding of hands and rapturous ecstasy. I had always liked Hugh's accent and this film was from an era where Grant was not yet idolised as he is today (a few years ago, to be precise).

Many first times today and I again realise that every day, we have an opportunity to learn and unlearn.

Well, what have you discovered today, dear reader?

Image 1: Bimli (Wikipedia)
Image 2: Wikipedia

Exploring the unexplored in Julie and Julia

While food and blogging are the most obvious and often written about matters while discussing the 2009 film Julie and Julia, I was fascinated by another story which though significant is not given much afterthought. I am referring to the friendship between Julia and Avis as long time pen pals. It touched a chord because writing letters and emails is something that I immensely enjoy and look forward to. I did have a couple of pen pals with whom I shared my everyday life stories and curious incidents. Inspite of not having met, there existed a bond that went beyond faces, touch and smiles. We connected via the medium of letters -- words, words and words. The anticipation was worth the joy received when I held the letter in my hand. A weary day in school would be transformed into bursts of happiness when the long awaited letter arrived. It was indeed undistilled pleasure.

Then email happened.

But the letters still were being exchanged along with long emails. The instant gratification of emails though praised to the high heavens still carried with it an element of anticipation and waiting. The few hours between hitting the 'send' mail icon and seeing a new mail notification is of course similar to the waiting of days in receiving a hand written note. I enjoy both the mediums and exploit them fully. 

 

 

 

When Julia casually mentions at the airport to Linda that she has never met Avis but has only corresponded with her through letters, the look of Linda's face is priceless. That was a moment that I savoured in the entire length of the movie for I know how it feels.

And today, my wait for emails is intense than the wait for snail mail for I am not expecting any snail mails in the present. This also reminds me that I have to write in order to receive and I shall soon do that.

 

 

As I grapple with teaching my students how to write formal letters, I am afraid that they will never know the joy of writing hand-written letters. I can lecture them on the pleasures and beauty of sending and receiving a letter but I can never make them understand the warmth and satisfaction of the act of writing letters.

In the meanwhile, I await an email from an interesting person.


How about you, dear reader?

Before sunrise, Before sunset and everything in between

Just imagine, two strangers in a train decide to spend time together walking the streets in Vienna and getting to know each other! The very idea sends a tingle down my spine and fills my mind with a sense of being overwhelmed. And, the same strangers, of course not strangers any more decide to meet in the Vienna train station after six months, and in the interim not exchanging any phone calls, letters or visits. Well, they don't meet but connect after nine years in France. Well, more than the films, what really interested me was the conversation that transpired between the strangers during their first walk around Vienna which lasts until the wee hours of the morning - before sunrise, to be precise. To me the film is an ode to conversation - A conversation which is genuine, frank, occasionally punctuated by the gurgle of a stream, song of a street singer and by the different sights and sounds of the city. A conversation without mobiles, facebook and other usual suspects.

The strangers, okay the actors, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy converse on an assortment of topics ranging from feminism to climate change to love, sex, popular culture, media, animals and so on. Their discourse is peppered with anecdotes and in the process of sharing thoughts and ideas, they get to know the other quite well and also by the end of the meeting are attracted to one another. The film consists of only walking and talking and there aren't any more characters in the film than the two actors. Reading up on the film, I found that most of the dialogues are written by the actors themselves and that does not come as a surprise!

I wondered at the possibilities of me doing something similar - chatting up with a stranger on a long distance train and impulsively deciding to walk the town with that stranger. The thought did seem quite thrilling to me and I guess I would have done it, perhaps some years ago when I was in my turbulent twenties! Real conversations are definitely a turn on and as the talks go on, layers of our selves start peeling off and unwittingly we reveal our personalities in the intoxication of words. The same transpires between the two on that walk. I find that I miss that sort of real conversation sometimes. Books allow oneself to travel to unknown lands, mingle with exotic cultures and imagine surreal situations but it is a process that is done alone unlike conversation, and here I mean 'real' conversation where I can see into the eyes of the listener, catch the faint smirk, observe the change in the tone of the voice and take in the gestures of the speaker. You get the drift, don't you? And, if the person on the other end has an equally arresting face, body that fits the conversation then it is imperative that sparks will fly but don't get me wrong here. Conversations don't always have to lead to physical and emotional attraction in the form of love/lust. But I don't deny that there is a higher possibility of falling for someone who can hold an exciting and meaningful conversation for hours (This trait is fast dying because of the various gadgets that vye for one's attention throughout the day/night).

If this post on 'conversation' has made you curious, you must watch the films - there are three of them -- Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight

So, are you turned on by a heady conversation sans any distraction?

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

A kiss is just a kiss

This post has been itching to escape into the blog ever since it has been stifling in the crevices of my mindscape and I wonder why I have imprisoned it for so long. So, today, I've given a solace to the itch by applying a potion in the form of writing the post! I have always longed to devote a post to THE KISS and not the kiss that every one gives everyone but the special passionate ones that are employed to many forms of expressing love and extreme fondness in the name of lust. Well, a kiss definitely gets it started and suspends time and place. And for people like me growing up in the 90s, a kiss was as scandalous as sex itself and it was one of those forbidden pleasures that made us yearn for them on TV shows.

 

 

I remember awaiting those 'kisses' in the 'foreign' (read English) films when first Metro channel came about in the 90s. And, of course, the after kiss 'scenes' would also be eagerly anticipated but alas! they were denied to keen watchers by the censor boards who chose to not corrupt the young and fiery minds of productive youngsters like me. Well, we waited patiently for those passionate kisses and were rewarded by many during our growing up years. So much so that I even thought that a kiss is fatal enough to make one pregnant! I cannot digest my naiveté and today I wonder whether innocence of that sort was actually possibly imaginable!

 

 

I remember the famous TV program of those years, Guinness Book of World Records ended with a kiss and I would wait with bated breath to just watch that brief kiss. Ah, what thrill it gave me to imagine a kiss. I even shared the vital piece of information with a friend who also waited for that 'kissey' ending.

 

 

And it is for all the above mentioned reasons and more that the film, Cinema Paradiso is a film that is very close to my heart. For those who have seen the film, you will understand the connection between kisses and the film. For those who haven't seen it yet, here you go: The small boy Toto is fascinated by films and spends a lot of time at the cinema house  with Alfredo, the projectionist. But the films have many missing scenes - kissing and embracing scenes which are cut, following the instructions of the local priest. Many years pass by and  Toto is a successful director and comes to his village after a long time to attend the funeral of Alfredo. Alfredo's wife gives Toto something that Alfredo had left behind for him and it is a reel that is a montage made of all the deleted 'kiss' scenes and as Toto watches that he cannot stop thinking of his growing up years and Alfredo. That scene from the film is something that will never ever leave my mind. It is a wonderful mash of memories, desire and nostalgia. And every time I see Cinema Paradiso, I can't stop thinking about my tryst with kisses.

 

 

 

 

P. S. I still love kisses the same way as I used to then but no longer await those passionate kiss scenes like yore!

Images 1 & 2: Shutterstock
Image 3: Internet

Hollywood's obsession with bachelor teachers' films

Out of the many teacher films that I have seen thus far, nine out of ten are about bachelor teachers who are always inspiring and encouraging teachers. I overlooked this pattern until I saw Cameron Diaz' Bad Teacher and realised that this movie had a woman teacher but she was afterall a bad teacher. The question that kept popping in my mind was: Why can't a teacher be a happily married woman or for that matter even a happily married man. While writing this, I have in mind the film, Freedom Writers where for a change, the teacher was a woman but she also undergoes a divorce because her husband could not handle the pressures that his wife carried as a teacher. Well, then the only solution that saves relationship problems is to be a bachelor teacher.

The archetype of the bachelor teacher has not found places only in films, even in many schools and Universities, we find such teachers. The teachers are always there for the students - solving problems, playing basket-ball, taking students to visit museums and other stuff. The teacher has nil personal life and is always there to give inspirational and motivating speeches to the students. This raises many questions for me: Can only a teacher with no strings attached (read family, relationship, etc.) be a 'good' teacher. Does a teacher have no right to a personal life? If at all a teacher (Hillary Swank in Freedom Writers) is happily married at the time of her employment, her marriage falls apart as her husband possesses a fragile ego. Why can't the audience digest a happily married woman teacher. Let me try to answer that question. A bachelor teacher by devoting all his time for the students sets a standard of 'being there' always for the students. But a female teacher by virtue of her being married cannot spend as much time as she has to cook, clean and wash for the family. She cannot do what the bachelor teacher does.

Hollywood, by making films which exalts the bachelor teacher tradition, sets a certain standard for teachers of both sexes. Once, I remember, after seeing the 2000 Kevin Spacey starring film, Pay it Forward, one student asked me, "Susie why don't you do things like him?" I was horrified. I was at a loss for words as I couldn't explain to him that in a film anything is possible. I was also horrifed because in spite of taking a lot of effort for the students of that particular class to which the boy belonged, I was faced with a lame question like that.

Meryl Streep's Music of the Heart is another delightful film but then she is a single woman who begins to teach music to rebuild her life. What is the equation between being single and being a teacher. Maybe it's TIME and more TIME for the students.

 So, what's your opinion of a 'good' teacher or a bachelor teacher.

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet
Image 3: Internet
Image 4: Internet
Image 5: Internet