Nostalgia

(This is a piece I wrote on 15th April 2012 at around 1:45 AM- the day which marked the centenary of the ill-fated voyage.)

 I am not much of a movie buff. I have a rather blasé attitude towards cinema.Cinema has never been something that fascinates me inordinately. I certainly do not wish to come across as a monastic soul who’s beyond such trivial pleasures of life, it’s just that I am not one of those who would watch a movie more than once, even if one appreciates it, or one who would hop to the cinema hall every other weekend to catch the latest flick . I am very choosy about the kind of cinema I watch. However, there are some movies which are extremely close to my heart, and the mere mention of their name evokes a surge of emotions in my mind. Titanic is one of them.

From the day I heard that the movie is about to make a comeback, that too in a 3-D avatar, I was as excited as a seven year old is about the arrival of his/her first bike. And despite having watched the movie countless times, the excitement and anticipation refused to abate.

The movie has the staple ingredients that usually entice me: romance and vintage grandeur set in the backdrop of a tragedy. But when I reflect upon my uncritical admiration for the movie I realise that it’s not always the content, the form or the technicalities of a particular movie or a song that make you go back to it over and over again, sometimes it’s the sentiments attached to it .

Titanic and I go long back. One of the reasons that it is (and will always be) close to my heart is that it makes me nostalgic about my childhood days spent in the city of Bombay. How many times have you actually had a “reason” to watch a movie or actually had an anecdote to narrate as to what compelled you to watch a movie? I have one, however puerile it may sound.

I was a sixth grader, barely ten years old. We had recently (and suddenly) relocated to Bombay, and I was admitted in one of the most posh schools of the city situated in a posh south Bombay locality.  Until then (and even now) I resided in a small east Delhi locality; I was brought up in the typical “Jamuna-paar” milieu, and was sent to a small time local school where the students and teachers thought it more apt to use our first language than the one imported from west. And all of a sudden I found myself surrounded by these snobbish English speaking kids who dwelled in the plush South Bombay apartments, and came from affluent families. Quite obviously, I was not readily assimilated.

As a child it was very difficult for me to deal with this stark transition.The teachers used English as a medium of teaching and communication; there used to be two recesses unlike my previous school where we used to have only one recess; the end of a lecture was signalled by the sound of  machine operated siren unlike my previous school where still the age-old method of manually ringing the bell  persisted; this new school was too far off from my residence; I had to practically change two buses to reach there as there was no bus route that would directly connect the place where I resided to the place where this new school was located as opposed to my previous school which  was just a stone throw away from my residence; the kids here liked and hummed the songs of Backstreet Boys and someone called Ricky Martin, who they said had become a rage at that time. The sense of getting uprooted from my familiar surroundings, having left behind my childhood friends, my school, my teachers, my neighbourhood and my city, compounded my discomfiture. This school was-the new school, interesting though, but not my school yet.

They used to hold a weekly General Knowledge quiz which was conducted by a very patronising teacher-Mrs Pawah. She was the colour of cottage cheese and must have been in her early sixties. She had small steel gray eyes, and wrinkles that parenthesized her mouth. She was a short and stout woman who wore a wig, and had a coarse voice. She had a habit of chewing aromatic pan-masaala. One could easily sniff and tell her presence. I remember being chided by her on the very first day of new school, for I entered her post-recess class late (in my defence, I could not figure out that the break was over as I was still used to the manual ringing of bell to signal the end of the break). The worst part was that I could not even figure out why she was hollering at me and what were the contents of the harangue (the medium of rebuking was English too :)). I just knew I was being scolded for some reason. I used to dread her and her class ever since.

The quiz used to be conducted every Wednesday. It was around the same time when Titanic had released and had set unprecedented records in terms of Box-Office collections. It had become the talk of the town. Everyone in the new class barring me had watched the movie and was going gaga about it.  I never cared to watch the movie because it was an ENGLISH movie, and English movies were not supposed to be watched with parents (if you know what I mean). And of course being a ten year old kid leaves you no option other than watching a movie with your parents.

It was one of those Wednesdays.

“You...yes you, third bench second row, stand up. Tell me what made the Titanic sink?” she enquired.

Until then I had no clue that Titanic was an actual historical catastrophe which had inspired the movie. So I was a little befuddled by this question being asked in a general knowledge quiz, but being awfully intimidated by her overbearing persona I could not dare to contest the pertinence of her question. 

“I don’t know, ma’am” I said meekly.

“What do you mean, I don’t know! Everyone knows it. I couldn’t have asked you a simpler question. I am disappointed in you” she said in her characteristic contemptuous voice.

“Ma’am,” I spoke mustering some courage after a few seconds of hesitation, “I have not watched the movie yet.”

There was a complete silence in the class. Everyone’s face turned towards me. I had learnt that I was not the only one who despised her; no one in the class particularly liked her. Hence no one dared to react lest she would chide them. To my surprise, after giving me a perplexed look for a couple of seconds, she burst out laughing. And the rest of class followed her lead. Her laughter was derisive. A wave of hilarity ran through the entire class. I was pretty confused as to what was happening. What was so risible about my honest confession that had every one in splits? A slightly sympathetic look on the face of the boy sitting next to me helped me figure out that I had said something stupid.

“Sit down, you!”She said dismissively.

That day I ran to my mother as soon as I reached home, and narrated the entire incident to her. I blamed her for all the jeering and humiliation I was subjected to, since she never had me watch Titanic despite the movie being so freakishly popular.

She wiped my tears and edified me about the historical importance and authenticity of the ill-fated event. At the same time she also promised me that she would accompany me to the movies.  

I was excited. This was my first English movie ever. Even though I have faint memories of watching a few popular sci-fi flicks such as Jurassic Park and Jumanji on the VHS tapes, this was my first one on the big screen. Mother, my sister and I reached Regal Cinema for an evening show. I can still recall the excitement multiplying with each passing second as I saw Regal Cinema nearing, through the front window of a double-decker B.E.S.T bus.

We finally found ourselves settled in the luxurious chairs of the elite Regal Cinema. The movie commenced. It’s funny how kids react. I would keep on entreating mother for translations of the dialogues in the movie (I was not pro at understanding the language let alone the accented version of it). I still distinctly remember perpetually prodding her during the entire first half asking, “When the hell would the ship sink?”
I was least interested in the beautiful moments that the movie showcased; all I was interested in was-what made the ship sink?

This was my first tryst with the celebrated movie. The movie will always be close to my heart, for it will always remind me of my naiveté; it brings back the memories of those innocent moments, those humiliating moments. That moment of awkwardness when Rose expresses her desire to get sketched wearing the pendant...only the pendant; the moment of uneasiness when I shifted in my chair while Rose pulled Jack from the driving seat to the rear part of the car where they had their first and last sensual congress. My understanding of the movie was very rudimentary. As far as I can remember I had liked the movie. I think it must have been the mesmerising beauty of Rose, her wavy auburn hair or the playfulness of Jack. I can’t actually cite with certitude what I liked about the movie back then but I remember that I liked it.  The haunting theme music had definitely caught my fancy. The soulful and haunting voice of Sissel lingered on.

The second time I watched the movie was with first ever crush of my life. By then I had had a little more time to reflect on the romantic saga that was interwoven with the cataclysm. No, it was not a romantic affair at all. It was merely a social outing and we were in a group. But I still remember looking at that person’s face in the filtered light of the cinema screen from the corner of my eyes. I remember my desire to hold that person’s hands while watching Jack and Rose assuming the epic pose and locking their lips in the backdrop of limitless Atlantic Ocean and the infinite orange hued sky. It was my first crush; it happened when I was completely oblivious to carnal instincts of any sorts. I was too young to understand that the feelings I had, were suppose to be called romantic feelings. For me it was a special attraction, an inexplicable attraction. I just knew I wanted to be around that person perhaps for my entire life, and I was naive enough to believe that things might work out. It is this innocence of mine that the movie reminds me of.

Although later it turned out that the person was not least bit worth of having any kinds of feelings for, even till today that person’s face resurfaces in my dreams however hard I try to scramble my memories of that person. The theme song of the movie invariably reminds me of the time I spent with that person and my imbecile liking for that person.

I wanted to relive all those moments. Hence as soon as the rehash of the movie was announced I had made up my mind that I wanted to watch it and relive those nostalgic moments with Jack and Rose (yes you may call me mawkish). Even today after having watched the movie umpteen times I observed things that I did not observe the last time I had watched it. It occurred to me that I still find Rose as bewitching as ever. I loved her auburn locks even more. I still love the vulnerability of Jack’s character and air of artlessness about him. My heart still skips a beat when Rose’s leg slips off the ship’s stern.

 I still enjoy the clumsiness and awkwardness of Jack when he sees Rose bare bodied for the first time. I can still feel the tremble in Jack’s body and the suppleness of Rose’s moist body after their first sexual congress.The conviction with which Rose pronounces her full name, "Dawson...Rose Dawson", after being rescued, still impresses me. I still nod my head undetectably when elderly Rose claims that a woman’s heart is deeper than the ocean.

  I love the streaks of levity in the otherwise grave setting of the movie. I still smile when the elderly Rose contemplates herself in the salvaged hand-mirror of hers and remarks how it is still the same as she had seen it last, just the reflection has changed. In fact, going slightly off at a metaphysical tangent, the stark contrast between the wizened face and withered body of Gloria Stuart(elderly Rose) and the flawless beauty of Kate Winslet(young Rose) reminds me of the fact that pulchritude is transient.It reminds me that however advanced and mighty man assumes himself to be, he is always feeble in the front of nature and destiny. It reminds me of the fact that there is nothing that is not perishable; even the most beautiful things wither; even the unsinkable might sink.  It gives me a faint idea of how it feels when death tumefies and assumes monstrous proportions, and stares you right in the eye.

This time, I had thought that I would watch it someone really special to add another memory to cherish in the future but could not manage to find a suitable prospect. Some friends were kind to offer their gracious presence but I chose to avoid company and relish those moments all by myself.

It is not always the story of a movie that attracts you to it, sometimes the stories of your own life which get woven with a movie or a song make it very close to your heart. Titanic is one of such very few movies that I will always cherish.

I derive an uncanny thrill when I realise that as I write these concluding lines, the unfortunate tragedy completes its centenary. It was this very date and time exactly hundred years back when the Atlantic decided to feast on one of the most magnificent and robust man made marvel ever set afloat and over fifteen hundred lives served as accompaniments. 

Titanic Theme Music