Thriller Night

It was the second time in three years that was in the US during Halloween. The first time it was exciting to see it as a grand masquerade ball that spilled over to the streets, a party that everyone was invited to, and a time when candy sales reached an all-time high in the US. It was like watching a thriller movie the first time. You get lost in what’s happening without trying to figure out why it is happening.
The second time however is different. You want to look into the details. You want to know how it all began. You want to know why.
And this time, that’s where Halloween took me.
Celebrated on October 31 each year, Halloween comes to America from a mix of ancient Celtic practices, Catholic and Roman religious rituals and European folk traditions. Blended over time, modernized and made fun for children it is today one of the most celebrated and enjoyable community-based children’s holiday in the US.
Straddling the line between fall and winter, plenty and paucity and life and death, Halloween is a time of celebration and superstition. Halloween has long been thought of as a day when the dead can return to the earth, and ancient Celts would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off these roaming ghosts.
Perhaps Michael Jackson's writer Rod wrote his words for Thriller after Halloween night. (I quote them below with a link in case you want to go down nostalgia lane!)
Halloween is indeed a day when good triumphs over evil. It’s a time when the wicked are laughed at and (literally) scared away. The fact that Halloween came right between Dassehra and Diwali put things in a newer perspective for me. Having just left India with the smoke from Raavan effigies still spiraling up the sky, it was a kind of repeat performance out here for Halloween.
So houses are decorated with the traditional Halloween pumpkins, black widow spiders, ghoulish mummies, skeletons and scary witches in black hats. Dark devious decorations to ward off the evil. Out there in India, lights decorate every house. A riot of light that lets in no darkness. Eventually everything is the same. New ways of tricking the devil, a different way of fighting evil, the triumph of good and the celebration of the goodness over wickedness and finally whether you scare the evil away with mummies, skeletons, witches or black cats or you welcome goodness with a riot of lights, it ends up being the same celebratory spirit east of the US or west of India.
Pics of Halloween party decorations that David Cronnin, realtor from Indiana kindly allowed me to take to represent Halloween. Thanks David.
Thriller lyrics
Songwriter: Rod Temperton
It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark
Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes
You're paralyzed

'Cause this is thriller, thriller night
And no one's gonna save you from the beast about strike
You know it's thriller, thriller night
You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight

You hear the door slam and realize there's nowhere left to run
You feel the cold hand and wonder if you'll ever see the sun
You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination, girl!
But all the while you hear the creature creeping up behind
You're out of time

'Cause this is thriller, thriller night
There ain't no second chance against the thing with forty eyes, girl
Thriller, thriller night
You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight

Night creatures calling, the dead start to walk in their masquerade
There's no escaping the jaws of the alien this time
(They're open wide)
This is the end of your life

They're out to get you, there's demons closing in on every side
They will possess you unless you change that number on your dial
Now is the time for you and I to cuddle close together, yeah
All through the night I'll save you from the terror on the screen
I'll make you see

That this is thriller, thriller night
'Cause I can thrill you more than any ghost would ever dare try
Thriller, thriller night
So let me hold you tight and share a
Killer, diller, chiller, thriller here tonight

'Cause this is thriller, thriller night
Girl, I can thrill you more than any ghost would ever dare try
Thriller, thriller night
So let me hold you tight and share a killer, thriller, ow!

(I'm gonna thrill ya tonight)
Darkness falls across the land
The midnight hour is close at hand
Creatures crawl in search of blood
To terrorize y'alls neighborhood

I'm gonna thrill ya tonight, ooh baby
I'm gonna thrill ya tonight, oh darlin'
Thriller night, baby, ooh!

The foulest stench is in the air
The funk of forty thousand years
And grizzly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom

And though you fight to stay alive
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWq1uMJOA1Q

The Old Lady with the French bread

It’s raining.
It’s cold.
And it’s windy.
She seems to be struggling with her groceries and shopping as she gets out of the butcher’s shop in the background. A passing car slows down, the driver obviously feeling sorry for the elderly lady. But as he moves closer he realizes she doesn’t really need any help. She’s fine the way she is.
She is one of the lifesize and lifelike structures that the Carmel Arts and Crafts District has, in Indiana.


The Carmel Arts and Crafts district sports a number of these sculptures. Each one equally riveting. A little girl watering flowers. A father setting his daughter off on that first bicycle ride. A policeman motioning you to stop. Then there’s one of a couple just out on the street, the man juggling an umbrella against the gusty winds so common here. A lady on a bench eschewing on what to write next.

The first one I saw was the policeman. As our car whizzed by I realized he had not moved. Later I saw the gentleman on the park bench reading the newspaper. Now I was excited. The little girl watering the plants appeared round the corner. And then the street musician, rapt in playing his violin with the case open on the floor outside a music shop. My eyes hungered for more. And I saw her. The lady with the French bread loaf sticking out of her grocery bag.

The sculptures are fascinating in their realism and surreal in the fact that they were absolutely in the midst of daily life. The sculptor, himself is interesting. J.Seward Johnson Jr. is the grandson of the founder of Johnson & Johnson. A realist sculptor he is often known as the Norman Rockwell of sculpture. Says J. Seward Johnson, Jr. , “I use my art to convince you of something that isn’t real. You laugh at yourself because you were taken in, and in that change of your perception, you become vulnerable to the piece and intimate with it in a certain way.”

It’s positively refreshing to see art brought out on the streets like this. If there is some relief to a hectic life that all of us lead today, it’s the little joy that a ‘thing of beauty’ brings. Somewhere in the olden times, kings and subjects alike knew that it was art that would keep them going. That’s why going back to the ancient times, temples were decorated with intricate carvings, palace walls were adorned with art, churches enshrined stained glass art, even mausoleums were inlaid with delicate designs and semi-precious stones in marble. Somewhere along the way art and craft gave way to technology. Today a computer screen gives greater joy than a canvas, a joystick more excitement than a chisel. And along the way comes stress and all that modern technology brings with it.

So it’s wonderful when hurtling down the road with an errand to run, you are suddenly taken aback and you stop for a moment and think, “Wait, what was that I just saw?!”. And you realize the figure you stopped for has actually stopped for you. It’s motionless. But it puts into motion a whole new train of thought in your mind. You pass the old woman in the street with a smile and when you come to the one that really stops you: that dramatic one, a representation of the iconic photograph of a World War II soldier kissing a nurse.
There! Isn’t that another story unfolding in your mind?!

Sunset Love

DEDICATED WITH LOVE TO A DEAR DEAR FRIEND, S.
THE SUN IS STILL SHINING ON YOU, WISH YOU GREAT HAPPINESS, FOREVER AND EVER.


Sometimes love comes to you in your sunrise years. In the dawn of youth. It’s a wonderful feeling. You bask in its early morning warmth. Then the heat rises and passion takes over. You sizzle in the afternoon Sun of love with a burning desire. And fan its flames with the sultry winds of the day. And for some, the flame grows, casting its bright light on all others, blinding others as it grows to encompass all that comes within its reach. And then it’s evening and there is a cooling down, a simmering flame that now needs to be tended with care protecting it from the evening gusts that could well blow the flame out completely.
Sometimes love comes to you in your sunrise years. Sometimes it stays with you, growing, glowing in the warmth of the day and into the sunset years changing from the warmth to the heat to the sizzle to the burn to the simmering flame till your very end.
Sometimes love in your sunrise years does not last. It sets with the evening Sun. And you can see it dipping down below the horizon. You plead, you beg for it to stay but as inevitable as the setting Sun you see the last arc of it disappear down the West.
Sometime the sunrise years don’t bring any love. Or if they do, you don’t recognize it in the blazing light of the day. Perhaps you are blinded by youth. By arrogance. By beauty. By naivete. By foolishness. By intelligence. By love itself. There are so many reasons. Perhaps you are restricted by some dark spots in the Sun. Sometimes where there should be light, there are shadows. And in that fragile moment, in the glorious sunshine of youth, love passes you by, and when you realize it, it’s too late.
But sometimes love waits. Till you’re done. Waits till the day is done. And the Sun is on its way down. Dipping down into the horizon. Casting a reddish pink glow in the sky. The kind that lovers sit on embankments by the sea watching wordlessly hand in hand. The kind that brings a smile on your face. The kind that creates a kind of hush all over the world.
There it is, standing in the dark street corner that you’ve always avoided. In those shadows that you’ve not noticed. In those nooks and crannies that you’ve forgotten to dust. In those crevices of your mind that you’ve chosen to ignore. In those memories, like old photographs that are so faded you don’t even want to try and make out the shapes anymore.
From there emerges love. Not on horseback. Not with great fanfare. Not with great guns blazing. Or a triumphant trumpet call.
But a quiet, gentle stepping out of the shadows. A light tap on the shoulder. A fragrant zephyr that tenderly plays with your hair. A butterfly kiss on your cheek.
And before you know it love encompasses you like the soft rays of the evening Sun. Bathing you in the rosy light of the evening glow. Like a Sun that has lost its fury but not its passion. A Sun that does not blaze but glows. A Sun that does not burn but shines.
And it’s that glow that will take you into the twilight. Into your twilight years. A gentle flame that warms the heart, bringing you the joy that you thought your sunrise years lost out on. And you walk confidently into the darkening sunset knowing that this flame will take you into the deepest, darkest night with a light that will shine on in your heart for as long as you live.
It’s sunset love.