The Da Vinci Code

Slow. I cerebrate, this is the most apt word to ascribe with the movie. Novel was seemingly fast paced. Nevertheless, the ambience was good. Mr. Howard did do a justice to the novel by executing it exactly as it is. Not much of digression. Ofcourse, the movie was labelled as adaptation, which allowed him to change the plot. Luckily, he managed to successfully avoid it. (I reckon, he didn't had the previledge to see the Indian adaptations of novels beau ideal being, The Guide and silver screen potrayals of legends like Mangal Pandey, Ashoka, et al).

The novel is fundamentally about a quest. A quest for searching the Truth. Being a fiction novel, the Truth is undoubtably defined at the prerogative of the author. The good thing is, Mr. Brown could provide palatable justifications to all of the premises he has made. Might be, he took them (or the idea of it, as he has won the legal litigation) from the Holy Grail.

Central Idea of the moive: Jesus Christ was mortal. He led a normal human life, affecting millions of contemporary people. He was, undoubtably, more than just an human. However, not on the account of his birth or pedigree, but his deeds. Pagan ruler Constatine; looking at the growing number of Christ followers three centuries after his death as threat to his empire; converted the Sun-Worshippings pagans follwers to members of a cult christened as Christianity, after Christ. Jesus Christ became God, from the Son of God. Conscequently, all the stints of his life that potrayed him as human needed an eraser, for the Church, to both survive, and retain power on the populace. Thus began the process of systematically erasing such information.

A pertinent question, what is so great, that it needs to be erased from the records and memory of the people to uplift the reputation of an already famous man. As said earlier, Jesus lived a normal human life. He had a family, Mary Magdalene and ... a daughter from her.

Church defamed Her so that she can't be associated with Him. However, a group of people who coined their group as Proiry of Sion, took a pledge to save the sacred feminine. Pregnant Mary was moved to a safe place, while Christ was being crusified. The daughter too survived and thus, the bloodline of the sacred couple. It's the womb of the sacred faminine that's the Holy Grail: a cup (or more apt a container) which held the seed of Christ to spawn his pedigree.

Church wants to destroy this truth. The Priory has the responsibility to save it. The Priory has been led by great people in history viz. Sir Issac Newton, Picasso and Leonardo Da Vinci. Sophie's Grand peire - the curator - is a member of Priory.

The curator has sensed that his secret identity of Grand Master of the Priory has been somehow exposed. However he fails to survive the murder. Before dying, he casts a web of codes and puzzles for his granddaughter, in and around the well known paintings of Da Vinci, to guide her to his murderer and more importantly, the cause behind it. To assist her, he ascribes Langdon's.

The quests begins.

Mind you, it is really fascinating to see the striking things in the frescos. (See the adjoing image) Lots of artifacts, lots of cerebremation on it, lots of puzzles, lots of codes. It's all so interesting. Da Vinci was cognoscenti of frescos. Dan Brown has nevertheless, done a lot of homework on the paintings to bring out the striking features.

The chase goes on. How they decode all the codes, is the film. See it. You will like it. Now you have the key for the code.

Mind Over Matter

A graduate from an inland premier education institute walked away with an atronomical salary package. The news made headline. Most awed, many grudged, while a few despised. Is counting trailing zeros in the salary package, the only criterion of judging the brilliance of a being? Is this the value of mind; Just a few green leaves?

The society is witnessing a trend. Unfortunately, a negative trend. Definition of being a careerist has narrowed down to one, who is successful raking tons of money. A student no longer aspires for a premier institute because his academic thirst will be quencehed. The institute assure a hefty pay package job in an MNC. That is the only thing that matters. A miniscule percentage of graduates opt for higher education. Of those who do, not many have inclination for research. To make the agony even more miserable, the same student - who strived hard to graduate from that premeier institute - opines with grimace, 'Uh! PG from this place? No way! It doesn't carry any worth. It's OK upto graduation. But PG, Oh Please! I can't risk my career with a PG from this crap. I need a tag from US, to highlight my resume.'

Why are we not able to cultivate a feeling of respect for our educational farmlands? No doubt, there are alumini from such premier institute who still respect, their erstwhile abode. They not only flaunt their institute, but also fund many of its researches, labs and facilities. Kudos to them. However, they are the persons who made into these institute on their own. They didn't use the cruches of pervasively mushrooming Coaching Classes. And mind you, that counts. Dropping out for a year, exclusively for studies to get into a premier institute, has become a fad. Those who get in; through their hardwork, consistent and determined efforts concentrated at their aspiration, it's a dream cme true. For those, who can not, coaching classes are always there. I have personally seen students taking two; even three years of drop, only to be successfully subsumed in a sub-premier institute. All this for one good reason. A lable from the premier institute, and your life becomes easy henceforth. Good job and loads of money. Simple as that.

Raking huge money is not bad. Having the potential and underutilising it, undoubtably, is a sin. But using a premier institute as a platform for all this is opportunism. Sounds ugly. Isn't it? No one cares.

Why one should?

We never taught them, to question, why and for what they are studying.

Should we?

Singapore

Travelling has been another regular part of my yearly routine. Travelling different parts of the country, is fun. Beholding the vivid colors of nature, culture and treasure (of that kind) is an experience of its own kind. When it comes to a phoren visit, it deserves to be classified as an eye candy.

Singapore is beauteously ravishing. I, however, recristened it as Shingnnapoor; spoonerism intended . Break-free roads, shiny cars, pedestrian pathways with lush green tropical flora in the backdrop, buildings that defy gravity and demands redefinition of word beautiful, robust public transport, disciplined people and lots of light. I love the place.

The moment we landed the Singapore International Airport, better known as Changi airport, it gave us a feeling that we have ventured into a new world. Thanks to the Chaos Unlimited, proudly sported at the eternal IGI. The luggage handling was hassle free. There were escalators - both, horizontal and vertical - for faster movement of passengers. It saves time! There was no Thulla to (mis)guide us. These people prefer signboards. Water was available free much to our ashtonishment. Emmigration was hassle free. The Officer greeted with smile and a 'Welcome'. Processed our papers and thanked. The poor fellas at IGI find it all so unnecessary and boring. One amongst them asked the motto of travel with an attitude of Why-the-hell-are-you-travelling. It was much later that I understood why he donned so. It was rather simple. He had to work for getting paid.

Drop it. We moved out of the airport. The luxury bus took us to hotel. The ride was majestic. Countless flyovers and underpasses, zillions of twinkling lights - of cars, street, buildings and of course, malls, shops and restaurants. It is a visual delight to see this city nation at night. Hotel was great. It was in front of the well known Mustafa Mall. We had a shower and then went for the first Indian supper on a phoren land. Mind you, it was tasty.

The next morning, we went for sight seeing. The India Memorial, various legislative and administrative monuments, President house, a parks, Indian temples, downtown Singapore and lots more. It may sound a bit hectic but honestly, it wasn't. The bus was cozy and AC. Roads were pot-hole-less. The kept us efficient. The beauty of the nation is that people are disciplined. Smoking is common. But none, mind you, none trikles the ash on the road. The tarmac is so clean that you can very well lie down for a siesta. Obviously, it won't be that soft as the bed. Moreover, people follow rules. A red signal mean stop. Green means Go. Amber means slow down. The last one confused you right? Unfortunately, Amber doesn't mean Go Faster, in this part of the world. The pedestrians help. If you ever get lost on the street, usually the signboards don't allow you that, people help.

To be continued...