Some evenings take you back to a lifetime of memories… ❤️📚

 

Meeting the celebrated Malayalam author Paul Zacharia last weekend was nothing short of déjà vu. It took me straight back to my school days, when I would eagerly look up the authors whose works we studied, often checking their introductions to see if they were still alive. That curiosity would lead me to write letters asking questions about their literature, and the greatest joy was receiving a reply in an inland letter. Imagine the excitement of hearing back from an author whose work you had read in a classroom! Those letters were little treasures.

Meeting Zacharia brought back that same feeling, except this time, I could meet the author, listen to his thoughts, and ask my questions in person.

Although I haven't read his books, largely because he writes in Malayalam, a language I can speak and read but never formally studied in school, I have found a wonderful companion in Storytel, where I can listen to Malayalam books. Sometimes, it takes a different path to find our way to literature.

What struck me most about Zacharia was his humility and clarity of thought. Watching the documentary on his life and celebrating his literary journey was an emotional trip down memory lane. It brought back fragments of my childhood, memories of my Dad playing KPSC Lalithaganangal, my travels to Delhi, my Bangalore days, and so many other moments that have quietly shaped who I am today.

Looking back, I realise that it was my Dad who sowed the seeds of my love for literature, music, and poetry. Perhaps that is where my own journey with words began. Perhaps that is why I write.

The evening, thoughtfully organised by Sargavedi, was special in so many ways. It offered us the opportunity to meet and greet the author, watch a documentary celebrating his life, and ask him questions directly, rather than wonder whether a letter would reach him and, if it did, whether a reply would ever arrive!

A heartfelt thank you to Sargavedi for creating such a beautiful literary evening, and to Geeta Chechi for opening her home and bringing everyone together for the after-party. ❤️

Some weekends give us more than pleasant memories; they reconnect us with the people, places, and little moments that made us who we are. This was one such evening—a weekend memory to cherish long after Monday arrives. ✨

~Dawn

Privileged! Feel sad!

 

Sometimes, we need to pause and reflect on the privileges we often take for granted—the freedom to speak, the right to live with dignity, access to education, and the simple comfort of feeling safe.

When we see young people across the world out on the streets, protesting, risking their safety, and raising their voices for the most basic of human rights, something within us shifts. What we consider ordinary becomes a luxury for someone else. What we take for granted is still a distant dream for millions.

It makes you feel helpless, humbled, and deeply unsettled. No young person should have to fight so hard for a future they deserve. Their voices remind us that privilege is not merely about what we possess, but also about the freedoms we enjoy without having to fight for them.

Perhaps gratitude must go beyond counting our blessings. It must also mean acknowledging the struggles of others, standing up for justice, and never becoming indifferent to the suffering around us.

Because the true measure of our privilege lies not just in how fortunate we are, but in how deeply we care when others are denied the same rights.

~Dawn

Nana Patekar: An Actor Who Spoke to the Conscience of a Nation

Some actors entertain us. Some make us think. And then there are a rare few who become a part of our lives, leaving an imprint that even time cannot erase. Nana Patekar was one such artist.

The news of his passing today leaves me with a deep sense of loss. My admiration for Nana Patekar goes back to Ankush, the film that first drew me to his extraordinary talent. There was something profoundly different about him — his intense eyes, his unmistakable voice, his unpolished honesty, and his ability to make every character feel painfully real. He never needed glamour or conventional heroism to command the screen. His presence alone was enough.

From the raw intensity of Ankush and Ardh Satya to the unforgettable performances in Parinda, Prahaar, Krantiveer, Agni Sakshi, Ab Tak Chhappan, Apaharan and Natsamrat, Nana gave Indian cinema characters that stayed with us long after the curtains fell. And then there was the delightful comic brilliance of Welcome, reminding us that the same man who could shake our conscience could also make us laugh uncontrollably.

But today, I find myself thinking about the human being beyond the actor.

His association with farmers and rural communities through the Naam Foundation, his efforts towards water conservation, and his commitment to helping people facing hardship revealed another dimension of his life. He was not merely an artist who portrayed society's struggles; he also sought to make a difference beyond the screen.

In a world increasingly consumed by appearances, celebrity culture, political divisions and the relentless pursuit of personal gain, his life reminds us that the true measure of a person lies not in fame, wealth or applause, but in what one gives back to society.

Nana was known for speaking his mind, often bluntly and without the polish of carefully crafted public statements. In today's world, where outrage often replaces understanding and words are used to divide rather than unite, that uncompromising spirit feels especially significant. We need more courage to question injustice, more compassion for those who struggle, and more willingness to turn our convictions into action.

One of the most poignant sentiments attributed to his final public appearance was his reflection on mortality — that everyone's time would come, including his, and that he hoped to do something worthwhile before then. That thought feels especially moving today. Life is fleeting, but what we do with it can outlive us.

Perhaps that is the most meaningful lesson in remembering Nana Patekar: talent can make us famous, but humanity gives our lives meaning.

For me, the boy from Ankush who grew into one of Indian cinema's most formidable performers will always remain a favourite. His characters may have belonged to the screen, but the emotions, questions and truths he awakened belonged to all of us.

Farewell, Nana Patekar. Thank you for the cinema, the courage, the laughter, and the reminders that we must never stop questioning the world around us — or our own place in it.

The screen may have gone dark, but your voice will continue to echo.

Om Shanti. श्रद्धांजलि. 🙏

~Dawn