Gone with the Wind (1939)

I’ve been writing this blog for the last eight years now, and in all that time, while I’ve reviewed some really obscure films, I’ve steered clear of reviewing many of the great classics—mostly because of a fear that I won’t have anything new to say. So much has been written (by people infinitely more qualified than I can ever hope to be) about films like Pyaasa, Citizen Kane, etc that there’s really no reason why anybody would want to read my musings.

But. A couple of weeks back, after years of putting it off, I finally finished reading Gone with the Wind. I’d seen the film when I was in my early teens, and remembered little of it besides the basic story. I decided therefore that it was high time I rewatched the film. Since the book was so fresh in my mind, I couldn’t help but compare it to the film. And since the film is so beautiful (literally; every other frame looks like a painting), I ended up with a folder full of screenshots.

Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind

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I Remember Mama (1948)

The Times of India ran an interesting little article yesterday (I tried searching for it online, but sorry – can’t find it), as part of its run-up to Mother’s Day. It was a little piece about a mother who found herself reduced to a pair of hands – “can you open this?”, “can you fix this?” and so on – often completely ignored unless her children needed something done. She was feeling a bit blue, when a friend, who knew what she was going through, gifted her a book on the cathedrals of Europe – with a little note. On how cathedrals aren’t built in a day, they take years of very hard work, and nobody knows, years later, who made them. That, said the note (and the article) is how it is with mothers.

So, on Mother’s Day, a tribute to mums across the world. But, most especially, a tribute to my mum, whom I simply adore, and who is the sweetest, kindest, most gentle person I know. I love you, Mama.

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